plot bnny death place
by fanfics-for-a-blind-friend
Summary: mestly dead plot stuff, some notes and thoughts. for aud
1. prol

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	2. expl

this is not my story. I've stolen it so a good friend of mine, who is blind, can use the audio reader function on the ffn app. I only do this since this story is not uploaded here. I will delete it as soon as she is done listening to this story. I urge you to check out the original and support the real author


	3. Chapter 1

Returning

Part I – Samradh

June – August, 461 HE

Chapter One — Returning

15–18 June

"We can't go much further tonight, Kel."

Trudging beside Peachblossom in the summer dusk the grim-faced young woman in armour looked wearily round at Neal, walking beside Magewhisper. Each warhorse bore three young children, and though neither animals nor people were complaining she could see how tired all were. Behind her many children were nodding as they rode or stumbling as they walked, and the half-starved adult refugees were close to exhaustion. Looking ahead she could see Dom's squad on point were faring better, but the sparrows who had been scouting for them had begun to roost on the warhorses' manes. Uinse and the other convict soldiers were struggling, and all the dogs had lolling tongues. Kel's own legs were a burning, leaden ache, but had she been on her own she would have walked until she dropped.

"No, I know."

Neal grimaced sympathy with the frustration in her voice. Since leaving Castle Rathhausak in flames behind them four days before they had seen no sign of pursuit, but just being in enemy territory made his shoulder-blades itch. For Kel the responsibility of command made it worse, and he knew she had despite everything hoped to reach Tortallan soil today, or at least to contact the smugglers. When in mid-morning Tobe had been able to summon from the river-meadows the Scanran horses he'd persuaded to wait there a week before, on their outward journey, Neal had himself hoped that with extra mounts they might make it today. But logistics dictated otherwise. Driven as all were by fear of pursuit and hope of sanctuary, sixteen knights and soldiers, one-hundred-and-eighty-three rescued children ranging from infancy to the cusp of adulthood, three injured Tortallan civilians, and more than forty painfully thin Scanran refugees did not—could not —cover ground at more than a walk. Without the scores of horses they'd taken from the stables at Rathhausak it wouldn't have been even that.

"We need to be in better shape to cross the Vassa anyway. And Mithros knows what the smugglers will say when we show up, especially if the others crossed a few days back."

He saw Kel try to summon a grin, then simply nod.

"I've wondered about that. We're hardly what they bargained for. But the flatboats Stenmun used might be on this side of the Vassa, and I want to take all the horses across if we can. Else we'll be crawling for another week to reach Mastiff." Kel stumbled, righting herself with effort and reaching up to steady the five-year-old sitting on her shoulders. "Sorry, Meech," she murmured, but the boy hadn't woken from the doze Neal's healing of his gashed leg had induced.

"Mmm. Flatboats. Lovely." Neal's mind caught up with his mouth, and he frowned. "You think they'll refuse us help?"

"No." Without Meech's weight and her wound Kel might have shrugged. "We'd have nowhere to go, and I think that old mage would weigh in. But I don't want to be leaving a trail of IOUs. It won't help."

Neal thought about that, blinking. "Help with what?"

Kel's look tried for Yamani-blank but was tinged with emotions he couldn't identify.

"With whatever charges we face. Dom and his men are covered by Raoul's orders, but I don't know about the rest of us. And there's the Scanran refugees too—that's already a hefty bill for food and shelter."

Neal blinked again. "Kel, you can't seriously be worrying about that? We're heroes, for Mithros's sake!" His voice was indignant. "We've rescued more than four hundred people—I still can't believe it—and killed almost as many Scanrans. Even the Stump's not going to punish you for that!"

Kel sighed, again reaching up to steady Meech. "Who says the decision'll be in his hands? Neal, every one of us under arms, except Dom and his squad, is guilty of whatever mix of disobedience, mutiny, desertion, and treason General Vanget or the King chooses to charge us with." Her forehead creased. "I hope and pray you are safe, on your father's account and as a healer, and I've more-or-less persuaded myself that if they don't charge you they can't charge Merric, Esmond, or Seaver. And the other ranks and convicts can say they just did as they were ordered." She grimaced. "But I'm worried for Owen."

Neal frowned, surprised by the political flavour and not liking the implications. "And you, Kel? You really think you'll face a charge of some kind? What about your father's account? Your parents are central to the Yamani treaty."

"Maybe so, but I can't hide behind the treaty. It might compromise Cricket and Yuki. And Roald. They have a bad enough time of it already."

"What? Why does Yuki have a bad time of it?"

Kel shook her head, as much as Meech's dangling legs allowed. "Just as Yamanis, Neal— funny-faced barbarians, remember, defiling the realm. Do you really want to add association with treason?"

"Only the dimmest conservatives could think that."

This time Kel did manage a crooked grin. "Who are among the most important and vocal, Meathead." The grin faded. "Think about it, Neal. If the King knows—and I bet he does—the Council will be involved, and some of the worst conservatives are on it. What kind of golden opportunity do you think my undoubted mutiny and arguable treason offers them?" Neal scowled. "They'll be drooling for my head. And what kind of defence is rescuing commoners? Bringing extra foreign mouths to feed when we can barely feed our own?"

Neal's scowl became thunderous. "And killing the necromancer whose machines were Scanra's best weapons and whom everyone's been searching for since the war began? Not to mention burning Maggot's castle. Kel, I know you don't like Jonathan, and Mithros knows I don't blame you, but he's not stupid. You've done a great thing, and he'll see that." He paused, looking at Kel, before adding shrewdly, "He'll also know, as will the Stump and Vanget, that if he tries to

punish you as a sop to conservatives who haven't left Corus since the war began, he'll have a lot of very unhappy people to contend with."

Kel shook her head minutely again. "The Lioness can't shield me from this, Neal, nor should she. She has her own duty to discipline."

"I didn't mean my esteemed former knight mistress, Kel, or even Raoul, Buri, the Wildmage, and Master Numair—though their collective anger is … well, unimaginable, actually." He was rewarded with a ghostly grin. "I didn't even mean all the Tortallan refugees you've just rescued, though I bet they'd be pretty vocal too."

"So who did you mean?"

"The Own and the rank-and-file of the army."

Kel's eyebrows rose. "Who have what to do with the price of peas in Persopolis?"

Neal managed a tired snort. "You have no idea how they think of you, have you?" Needing no answer he pushed on. "You know the troops assigned to Haven as well as any commander can, and the refugees in your care. But you only see the rank-and-file of the army or the Own in passing or in battle, except for Dom's squad, and you think they're exceptions because you happened to be in command when you all met that first killing device. But I see them when they're injured, or visiting friends who are, or trying to scrounge herbs and balms. And I know what they say about you. Even what they feel."

They trudged on for a bit, feeling the strain as the trail rose towards a bend. Neal entertained himself watching the struggle on Kel's face. She was so tired—and, he suspected, in so much pain from her half-healed wound and morbid thoughts—that her Yamani mask was barely working, and he had long ago learned to read her blankness better than most. It wasn't until the trail flattened, narrowing as it turned into a wood, that she gave in.

"So what do they think and even feel, Wise Healer?"

The mock-title stung a little, but Mithros knew she needed all the comfort she could get, though he thought her fears exaggerated.

"They admire you." He tried for a healer's detached tone. "Love you, even, as a symbol, yes, but also as a reality. 'Protector of the Small' will just cap it." Her bewildered look was pleasing, and a rueful memory drifted into his mind of Tobe explaining with barely suppressed laughter that Peachblossom savaged him so often because 'he likes the noise you make when you're bit'. "Kel, besides the Own and the soldiers at Haven, a lot of companies have rotated through Steadfast and Mastiff since this war began. The sentries and night patrols see you waving that glaive every morning before dawn. Soldiers talk to one another, you know, and they hear from the refugees too, about the way you've trained them and how you run Haven."

Kel blinked. "They do?"

"Of course they do, Kel. More than half the Haven adults are women, many single or widowed, and those are in short supply at army forts in wartime. With all the training in self-defence you've given them, they're also pretty picky about whom they see. So word passes— along with other things—and by now I shouldn't think there's a soldier on this front who doesn't know about the Lady Knight Commander." He summoned strength to wave a hand airily. "And it's not that freak-show woman warrior thing you hate so much. It's the noble lady who backs her commoners against all comers, the green commander whose first act was to throw her predecessor's whip into the midden, the woman who rescued an orphaned horsemage from an

abusive master"—he grinned—"and the twelve-year-old page who took the mean-dog skinner Breakbone Dell squarely in the tripes."

Neal cursed himself as Kel's wide eyes darkened with painful memory of Gil Lofts, who had spread that tale and burned in the Tortallan pyre at Rathhausak, but he was saved further mistakes as they rounded another bend to emerge from trees into a small valley with a stream chuckling through its meadow. Dom's scouts had halted on the far side and the man himself waited a dozen yards ahead, eyebrows raised in silent question. Kel nodded and without breaking stride swung round to walk backwards, producing a version of her command voice that made everyone listen without stopping them in their tracks.

"People! We're entering a small valley with a stream, and we'll camp here tonight. Children, keep together, older caring for younger, and find a latrine area. Don't bother digging trenches, but make sure it's downstream of the camp. Owen's in charge. Dom and his squad on sentry duty. Uinse, you and yours on KP, and gather dry firewood." There were tired cheers, and Kel smiled. "We've seen no -one and we need hot food, but douse them as soon as cooking's done. Civilians, please help the cooks and children as you can, but stay inside the perimeter. Tobe and Zerhalm, the horses, ponies, and dogs. Any blisters, sores, or footrot to Sir Neal. All clear?"

A lone voice called back. "And what are you doing, Lady Kel?"

Kel scowled magnificently. "Writing a report with no paper and less ink, Jacut. Elsewise the army'll stop in its tracks, you know that."

A murmuring laugh went up, and Neal grinned. "See, Kel? I told you."

Kel had actually completed her report the night before, unable to sleep, and to update it with the extra horses and absence of Scanran troops throughout the day took only a moment. Then she wandered round, checking with Tobe and Zerhalm that the animals were alright and feeding sleepy sparrows berries she'd collected during the day. She also slipped Peachblossom a wrinkled apple she'd kept back from her own rations, and leaned against his warm bulk before forcing herself back to her rounds. After making sure the firewood was bone dry, and seeing the cooks start to heat soup and stew game the dogs had caught during the day, she headed over to the children, trying to radiate good cheer. Their courage amazed her, but despite the lack of complaint she knew all were suffering not only the pains of riding and walking for so long but also the lingering terrors of their abduction. Owen had been wonderful with them throughout the journey, and even now was patiently helping some five- and six-year-olds scared of the dark yards to the latrine area, but he was deeply grieved by the loss of Happy and not his usual, ebullient self at all. With Loesia and other older ones Kel cuddled and played with the littles, offering the solace of attention and her determination that they would all soon be safe.

After a while, having seen to the adults' needs, Neal joined them, checking for blisters and bruises and pulsing bursts of his Gift into small hands, thighs, and feet. After dealing with some grim saddle-sores on a mute eight-year-old he sat beside Kel as she finished a story about Daine winning a snow-fight one Midwinter by transforming herself into an ice-bear.

"I remember that. Master Numair was still shouting about her cheating when she rolled him into a snowdrift." He grinned at the avid children. "The complaints went on until Imbolc, at least! But what of you, Lady Knight? Any blisters to be healed? And how's your shoulder? I've

still some juice left."

Kel smiled wryly. Neal had half-recovered from draining his Gift at Rathhausak, saving her as well as Tobe, Saefas, and two of the convicts and trying vainly to save Gil Lofts, but thin rations, little sleep, daily slog, and the constant call for minor healings were no recipe for swift recharge.

"It's well enough, Neal." And hurt abominably. "Save yourself against need. And to get better faster"—she gathered the littles with her eye and they chorused with her—"eat your vegetables!"

Neal scowled. "Conspiracy! You have no respect! It's meat I need to be a proper meathead, not all that green stuff." The hushed giggles of the children were a kind of music, he thought, but as he cudgelled his brains for more jokes to offer Dom came to report.

"Fires lit, soup heating, rabbits and squirrels stewing nicely, and perimeter secure, Kel. No alarms, but those stormwings who've been following us have roosted nearby—again."

"The same ones? You're sure?"

"Yes. I recognise that female Yamani one who was watching us at the castle." He frowned. "They're keeping their distance. And keeping quiet." A shrug. "Do you want me to try to speak to them?"

"No." Kel shook her head. "Leave well alone, and let's hope they do the same. But make sure all the sentries know where they are, please."

"Will do. Food'll be ready soon, younglings."

They cheered quietly as he walked away and Kel marvelled again at their spirit.

"Alright, then. Everyone ready to eat? Hands and faces washed?"

By the time the children regathered, soup was ready—watered to stretch, but very welcome just the same. With so many mouths and such pressing haste food was a serious problem, and only the trail rations and cured meats they'd taken from Rathhausak had made it possible for all to have enough to keep going—but supplies for two-hundred-and-forty-six people walking more than a hundred miles over the best part of a week meant packhorses, forcing children who might have ridden to walk and slowing their progress down the Pakkai and Smiskir valleys. The dogs—and the one cat—had helped enormously with rabbits and squirrels they'd brought in, asking only for the guts and lights, but without the boarhound Shepherd, another casualty at Rathhausak, none could take larger game even if they started some. After tonight no soup-balls remained, breakfast would use the last trail rations, and Kel was horribly aware that if the smugglers—or if they were lucky, Tortallan troops—couldn't feed them tomorrow, she'd have no choice but to slaughter at least one horse. Tobe knew it too, and was grimly determined it wouldn't come to that.

The convict ladling out portions of rabbit-and-squirrel stew peered at Kel shrewdly before making sure she got some extra meat, withering her protest with a glance at the visible gauntness of her wrist as she held out her plate. She also received an oversize portion of a tasteless vegetable mass that might once have been roots, and after finishing the few mouthfuls of stew applied herself conscientiously to it with sidelong glances at Neal that drew a scowl from him and laughter from the nearest children.

"Just think of the advantages, Neal. You'll never be able to complain about regular

vegetables again."

His scowl deepened comically. "No vegetables are regular. And advantages for whom?"

"Yuki, mostly. And everyone who ever eats with you."

"Ha. My Yamani rose completely understands the horror of vegetables." He frowned. "Though why she thinks pickling everything helps is a mystery even to me."

Kel laughed. "Yuki made tsukemono? Good for her. Did she tell you there are markets in the Islands that sell nothing else? Just hundreds and hundreds of pickles."

"She said something like that, but there can't really be hundreds of pickles, can there? There aren't that many different vegetables."

"Of course there are. But it's not just what you pickle, it's what you pickle it in. There's brine and vinegar, of course—but Yamanis use sake, cider, beers, oils, and wines of all kinds, and any of those can be specially flavoured. I remember loving the smell the first time I visited a pickle-market, when I sneaked out with the palace cooks who were buying supplies. I think I was six." She smiled at the memory as she chewed her last, tasteless mouthful, wishing she had some umeboshi now; the tart sweetness of the pickled plums would help anything go down. "Will you and Yuki visit the Islands on honeymoon?"

Neal's face softened. "War permitting. After I proposed to her the Lioness helped us speak to her parents, in the fire, but she wants me to meet them properly."

"And show you off to her many cousins, I should think, as well as around the palace. You'll be toast."

"A fate I shall meet with my usual wit and dignity." "That's what I'm afraid of."

The banter was cheering, and Kel could see the children relaxing with the warmth in their bellies and the humour in adult voices, but her fears weighed on her as bitterly as a new training-harness. To have exposed herself to a justified call for her head was, she knew all too well, the stupidest thing she could possibly have done, but she also knew that in the same circumstances she'd do it again, unhesitatingly. The possibility of having to make such a decision had been a bruise in her mind ever since the Chamber had shown her its appalling vision of Blayce's workshop, and one part of her still felt a kind of relief that at least the waiting was over, come what may. But that may was fearful, and at worst might prove a bitter social and political shame for her family as well as a place on Traitor's Hill for herself. The thought of the pain she might cause those she loved made her cringe, though she hoped and believed her punishment would be kept an army matter. King Jonathan had always preferred clean hands.

Pushing down the black mood she hauled herself upright, wincing at the stiffness already gathering in her legs, and collected empty bowls from the children to rinse and return to the cooks. Uinse, Jacut, and the other convict soldiers on KP had needed no orders to feed themselves or to keep soup and stew back for Dom's squad, whom they now relieved on watch. She greeted her first true comrades-in-arms softly as they drifted in from the perimeter, and sat with them companionably as they ate. Fulcher and Lofren were the squad's first losses since Derom and Symric had been killed at Forgotten Well the year before, and the deaths had hit them hard, especially Dom. Like Owen, he'd been unflagging but without his usual cheer, and her own grief left her feeling she had nothing to offer him in comfort; not that anything anyone could offer would change the facts. The convict squads, issued inferior equipment and far less well trained

despite her efforts in the time she and Merric had had charge of them, had suffered much more seriously, losing six of fourteen at Rathhausak as well as the man they'd found hanged by the slavers at Pakkai junction—but they hadn't been together as long and had yet to develop the intense camaraderie of the Own.

Clearing his plate, Dom set it down and looked around.

"Same shifts as last night, and keep an eye on those stormwings." They all nodded. "Orders for tomorrow, Lady Kel? Straight on to the main crossing or turn off for the smugglers' den?"

"Straight on, Dom. We're too many for the narrow tracks, and it would add miles to the journey. I'm hoping there'll be flatboats this side of the Vassa, but if they're on the Tortallan side we'll have to ask the smugglers to run them across to us."

"Makes sense." He paused. "I'm half-expecting a picket at the crossing, though, if the other lot made it back with the adults. I don't know how long it would have taken them with so many on foot, but from their trail-sign they're at least three days ahead of us, so they should have reached Tortall two days ago, latest. Maybe three. And with any luck they'll have met a patrol and got messengers off. It depends who's making decisions but I'll be surprised if a lot of orders haven't already been given."

Kel nodded, having made the same calculations herself. "Let's hope so. But while I've got you all here there is one other thing, because we might not like some of those orders."

To her surprise it was Wolset who broke the tense silence.

"Worried about punishments, Lady Kel? Sir Neal said you was. But he's right—we're the heroes, this time."

"I hope so, Wolset. And I thank the gods you're all protected by my Lord's orders. But however you cut it, Owen and all the knights, including me, are likely to be in hot water. But whatever happens to us I don't want any of you getting yourselves in trouble protesting." She held up a hand to forestall retorts. "I mean it. If it is bad, and it might be, it'll be dangerous to mess with. But what I really wanted to ask you all was to look out for Tobe, if I can't. Get him to Onua Chamtong, will you? Or to Daine. He'll be safe and valued there."

"We will, Kel. I will. But for once I agree with Sir Meathead—you're not thinking straight." Dom's look was as shrewd as the convict's who'd served her food. "Almost as if you think you ought to be punished for what happened at Haven, rather than rewarded for an astonishing rescue and killing that godshat mage."

He spat aside as Kel blinked surprise at his blasphemy, a rarity despite often colourful language with his men.

"But I don't think my Lord'll see it that way, or even Sir Meathead's Stump." Dom stood, stretching. "Nor yet the King. But that's for later. For now, first shift, on your way, and let Uinse's boys get some kip. I'll bed down here until third shift—wake me at need and take no chances.

Clear?" There were nods all round. "Walk with me a moment, Kel? I haven't shown you where the stormwings are."

"Of course." She let him pull her up, feeling even in her bone-weariness a little heartflutter at his touch and the concern in his blue eyes. But nothing showed in her face: she'd realised long ago that her scarred, thickset body could offer nothing like the graceful curves Dom sought out at the Palace, and she wouldn't risk a crucial friendship over hopeless mooning. As the squad

headed back on watch or to their bedrolls, they walked slowly upstream, stopping short of the perimeter where Alden of Uinse's squad stood guard. The convict's mark on his forehead showed pale as he turned to look at them, nodding respect before looking outwards again. Their own eyes automatically scanned the meadow and the darker treeline beyond. Dom spoke quietly without turning his head.

"I've been thinking about the reports we need to make, Kel. Not just the combat report, though that's going to make good reading, but the situation report." He paused, tensing as an owl hooted in the forests, then eased again. "Real one. Of course the King needs to know about Blayce's death, if he doesn't already. But I reckon the story those villagers have to tell ought to be made known, among Scanran soldiers as well as our own." He glanced at her, then looked at his feet. "Until this week they were just the enemy to me, you know, but now I'm wondering how many of the soldiers we've been fighting knew how those killing devices were made. A liegelord who kills his own liegers' children …"

"I know, Dom, and I'll say so, believe me. Burning the castle will mean something to Scanrans too—it's a blódbeallár challenge, their blood and clan law. Besides, if the villagers are known witnesses as victims of Maggur's atrocities it'll secure their protection as well."

"Still thinking of others." His voice was wry. "And what of the commander who rescued them? No, don't answer. Just tell me if you're going to bother telling anyone the Chamber of the Ordeal was involved."

Kel waited as Wolset passed them on his way to relieve Alden and the convict headed back to camp.

"That's tricky, Dom. You saw how Merric and the others reacted to anything about the Chamber. If even my friends don't really believe me, why should anyone else?" He was silent. "I have to mention Irnai to explain why the villagers were so ready to help us, and anyone who sees her eyes will know she's one of Shakith's chosen. But if I start saying the Chamber chose me specially … well, my Lord might believe me, but gods, imagine the fuss and jeering there'd be." She strove to keep bitterness out of her voice, looking away from him. "You know Stone Mountain and his cronies already claim I've corrupted the Chamber by being allowed to enter it, and I've just handed them a giant Midsummer gift by inviting any one of three capital charges. I don't think either saying I'm a special case or admitting to nightmares and hearing voices would help."

When she looked back at Dom he was staring at her. "You do have witnesses, you know," he said gently. "Neal, Owen, and I all heard it speak through Irnai."

"And how do you know that was the Chamber?"

"You said it was …" His voice tailed away. "Oh. Mithros."

"Exactly. There's no proof at all, Dom, unless the Chamber provides some, and I can't count on that. It's got no manners anyway."

Her grumpiness provoked a short laugh but Dom's eyes were troubled. "Even so, Kel, promise me you'll tell my Lord, Lord Wyldon, and the King? They ought to know and the King can truthspell you if he wants."

Kel thought about it. "Alright, Dom, those three. But why do you think they need to know? There's nothing any of them can do about it."

It was his turn to look away.

"I'm not sure, but I feel it's so." He hunched inside his filthy tunic. "I've never been much for talking of the gods. I'm a soldier. I just get on with what needs doing. But that old mage said the hand of fate was on you, and when I heard that awful voice come out of a little girl I knew the gods were watching us and I think they still are. In any case, the King should know what the Chamber did in case it happens again."

"I suppose. And I do promise. Now, where are those stormwings?"

He accepted the change of subject and gestured up the valley. "About half-a-mile, to the west. Why do you think they're following us?"

Kel shook her head. "I don't know, Dom. They've spoken to me twice now. When I was between Haven and Giantkiller one mocked me—well, rebuked me really—for assuming they'd defile a body I found. One of the clerks, who'd bled out. But back at Haven that Yamani female said they were half-sorry to have soiled our dead because it was a refugee camp." Anger laced her voice. "She also said I was the only Tortallan commander who didn't let them have the enemy dead, and if I had they might have restrained themselves. That's partly why I left them the Scanran dead at Rathhausak."

"Partly?"

She sighed. "If anyone ever deserved to be stormwing toys it was Stenmun and his crew. And we couldn't burn or bury them, so I hoped for a profit on necessity. But I really don't think the stormwings will try to harm us, and they might even warn us of any Scanrans. This will sound odd, but I think they might be guarding us, in a way. Daine once told me they like children, and feel for them."

"They do?"

"Apparently. She said they have a hard time birthing their own young, and don't like to see anyone's mistreated. So maybe we're in their good books just now."

"Huh. You never know what'll you'll learn next." A genuine smile lit his face and her heart fluttered again. "You realise that makes them surprisingly like you? Terrors of the battlefield with soft spots for any youngling in trouble?" He laughed aloud at the indignation on her face. "Protector of the Small."

"Oy!" She punched his arm, without force. "I hate that name."

"Get used to it, Kel. It's going to stick." She made a face and he laughed again, softly. "I promise I'll make Wolset stick to 'Mother', though, so you can rest easy." He dodged a fist with more power behind it. "Hey, it's better than 'Sir Meathead', isn't it?"

"Not by much, Dom. And if you tell anyone you think I'm like a stormwing, Tortall will not be big enough to hide in. That's a promise too."

He raised his hands in mock-surrender, pleased to have lightened her mood. "Of course. But in that case we'd best shut up before we attract Wolset's attention any more. We should get our heads down anyway if we're moving at dawn."

With everyone eager to reach Tortall they were on the move before dawn. The high cloud cover of recent days had cleared overnight and the waning gibbous moon gave enough light to break camp. The children ate the remaining rations on the move, and false dawn found them all more than a mile on their way. Soon sunshine began slanting across trees and meadows soft with summer growth, lifting hearts and hopes; the sparrows flew off to scout, and Kel picked up the pace a little. Of the stormwings there was no sign.

With the sun still rising the trail topped a hill and they came to the true valley of the Vassa, catching a first glimpse of its waters sparkling to the south. Stepping up for a moment on Peachblossom's stirrup, Kel realised they were a lot closer to the crossing-point than she'd thought, then whipped her head round as she heard Dom's voice and Jump's bark raised in challenge up the trail. A man had stepped out of the trees a dozen yards in front of them, hands wide.

Calling a command to halt Kel dropped back to the ground, told Peachblossom to stay with Neal, and forced herself into a jog. Coming closer she realised it was one of the smugglers they'd met on the far bank; his gaze raked her, then flicked to the children on Peachblossom's and Magewhisper's backs.

"You got your younglings, then. All of them?" He spoke in Common.

"Yes, we got them."

"And the Kinslayer?"

"Dead, with his mage-master."

"Ah." His fist clenched. "Whose hand?"

Kel blinked. "Mine, if it matters. The castle's burned, too. And the survivors of Rathhausak village are with us."

"Ah." He spat aside and then to Kel's complete astonishment bowed to her. "Old Gella was right, Lady. Fate walked with you. And if ever a man needed killing, it was the Kinslayer."

Kel shrugged, wincing as her wound pulsed. "No argument from me. And thank you." She decided there was no point in fencing. "Have you seen the other knights and the adults?"

"Ay, we took them across three nights back. All two hundred and more." He shook his head as Kel felt a weight lift from her. "More like ferrymen than honest smugglers."

She grinned. "Come peacetime you could try it. Do you know if the flatboats are on this side of the water?"

He grinned back. "They're not. But there's a bunch of maroon soldiers guarding them on the other, and a picket on this, with the ropes strung." Kel and Dom both sighed relief and the smuggler grinned again. "You won't need us today—and a good thing if you've as many horses as I reckon you must." He glanced up at the clear sky. "Good weather, too. The Vassa's running calm as she ever does and you needn't worry about Maggur's men. They crossed to the west ten days back, and lost a battle the day after full moon. No survivors made it back this far east and there's none within ten miles now. I think luck walks with you as well as fate, Lady."

He turned back towards the trees.

"Wait." Kel closed the distance between them and stuck out her hand. "Thank you, for everything. We wouldn't have made it in time without your help, and your news now is trebly

welcome."

His eyebrows rose but he took her hand gingerly. "You made good use of our help, Lady, and many beside me will drink to the Kinslayer's death this night."

She let him go and he vanished among the trees in less than a minute. Dom shook his head, and Nari peeped apologetically from his shoulder.

"Like a ghost. Sorry, Lady Kel. We should have flushed him earlier. I'll be having words. Still, trebly welcome is right—the others all safe and help waiting at the crossing."

Kel nodded, and gave a sharp whistle to summon Peachblossom and tell Wolset, with the rearguard, to get everyone else moving again. Dom looked at her thoughtfully.

"You think he's telling the truth there's no-one to hear us, then?"

"Yes. Remember Owen's tale of a major Scanran crossing at the full moon? It explains why we've seen no-one. Go find that picket and get the flatboats brought across?"

"Will do, Kel."

It was three miles before a side-trail forked off through a wooded notch in the bluffs and snaked down to the Vassa. Dom and his squad were clustered round four men in army maroon, and behind them Kel could see three flatboats being hauled across by more soldiers on thick ropes spanning the river. As she and Peachblossom trudged up to the talking men a hard-faced sergeant she didn't recognise stood forward and saluted her, eyes straying back along the column.

"Lady Knight. Sergeant Domitan says you have the refugee children and about forty Scanrans wanting sanctuary?"

"We do, yes. Two -hundred -and-forty-six people, all told, Sergeant, including one-hundred-and-eighty-three children. Plus eleven dogs, a cat, and about one-hundred-and-eighty horses and ponies."

He whistled, but army discipline and experience held. "Well, that'll take some ferrying. We'll get started as soon as the boats get across." He glanced back at the men hauling on the river. "Five minutes, about. You're to head straight to Mastiff, my Lady. The other refugees you sent back with Sir Merric are there. There's not enough barrack-space inside, so some are in tents outside the walls, but we couldn't feed 'em anywhere else."

"Very well. And speaking of food, do you have any spare, Sergeant? The children have gone short for days."

He looked at her steadily. "You too, my Lady, by your face. We weren't issued much more than trail-rations but we've taken some small game. I'll get it heating and send word to Mastiff you need a cook-wagon to meet you tomorrow. For tonight, there's a way-point about twenty miles east with enough for a full company at least."

"Thank you, Sergeant. That all sounds good. Now, how is this going to work?"

It took the rest of the morning and half the afternoon, as well as heroic efforts by Tobe and Zerhalm in coaxing the horses and ponies onto the rocking flatboats. Kel dreaded to think what it would have been like without fresh soldiers working in relay on the ropes. She also sent silent thanks to any gods who might be listening for the sunshine and relative benignity of the fierce river. By common consent the children went first, older mixed among younger to keep them together on the far side and help with feeding them. When all were across the long process of

ferrying horses began, Scanran adults among them in fours and fives to keep them calm, until only Kel and the friends who had accompanied her north were left to clamber aboard with their warhorses and be drawn slowly back to the Tortallan bank.

By the time they disembarked most children were already remounted and within a few minutes the motley column was again underway. Five soldiers from the picket reinforced Dom's squad as point and rearguard, and in little more than an hour the trail spilled onto the main road between Northwatch and Frasrlund. The broader, well-kept pathway allowed the horses to spread out and their pace to quicken, and as the sun westered Kel realised with a tightening chest that the younger children had begun to talk and laugh as they rode. She met Neal's eyes and knew he shared her emotion.

"I hadn't realised how unnatural their silence was. Or how good it would be hear them sound carefree again."

"Me either. I'll sleep better tonight than I have for a while. They will, too, as the nightmares fade."

"Let's hope so. Are there any you're worried about?" Kel shook her head. "What a dumb question. What they lived through was giving me nightmares from five hundred miles away."

"I knew what you meant, and yes, there's some who'll need help. Maybe for a while." Neal gave a crooked smile. "We never really talk about this sort of thing, except among healers, and there isn't usually much we can do except listen to people. Just make sure their carers know, if a child starts to talk about it, don't hush them, let it spill." His face grew thoughtful. "It's like infection, I think. Talking's a way of draining the wound so it can heal."

Kel chewed on the idea, wondering what her Yamani and Tortallan selves thought. "That makes sense. I danced round this with Yuki and Cricket once, when they were having a heart-to-heart about something. But they tried to use my experience with my ma and the raiders as an example, and I loved that memory so I didn't really understand what they were saying."

Neal looked at her sidelong. "You should have told them about your dear brother dangling you off a tower."

No longer batophobic, Kel still winced at the memory. "But it was real heights that scared me, not dream ones." She frowned, searching her mind. "Come to think of it, I never really had nightmares before I met the Chamber."

"Those 'Nothing Man' visions Tobe mentioned?"

"Yes. And before that one with Lalasa and Cricket and everyone being auctioned off to Joren, or killed when he rejected them."

"What?" Neal's eye were wide. "When was this?"

"After Joren's trial. I tested myself against the Chamber door, and that was what it showed me. For months I saw it whenever I slept."

"Wait. You touched the Chamber door again?"

"Of course I did. Doesn't everyone?"

His eyebrows almost reached the unkempt hair sticking out under his helmet. "No, Kel, they don't. And I told you not to. Why did you? Because of what Joren said at the trial?"

"No. not really. I was doing it anyway, and that's what happened that time." "That time? Kel, please don't tell me you did this more than twice?"

She stared at him with genuine puzzlement. "Of course I did, about every six months. I thought you all did, but no-one said anything because you don't, about the Chamber, and because it's all too personal and horrible anyway." A thought clicked. "Are you telling me that when you entered the Chamber for your Ordeal you'd only approached it once before?"

"Too right I am. Once is plenty."

Kel stared again. "Neal, that's crazy. Don't you believe in scouting?"

"Oh, I like that. You put yourself through tortures no -one else even thinks of doing and I'm crazy?" He shook his head sorrowfully. "All I can say, Kel, is that if you were chatting on a regular basis with that, that, sessile psychopath, no wonder it picked you for a mission."

"Huh." They walked on, each digesting surprise. "What's a sessile psychopath?" "A criminal lunatic that stays in one place."

"Huh." A long pause. "It's not mad. Or criminal. It's just not human, nor mortal. Master Numair said it was an elemental, but I never really understood what that is." A shorter pause. "And you heard it talking through Irnai. That's not staying in place."

"True." He frowned. "You should tell someone about that, actually. Who knows what the mobile psychopath will do next?"

"Oh hush." They passed a berry bush and Kel grabbed a handful for the sparrows who flitted back to rest on Peachblossom's mane between scouting patterns. "Dom said I should report it as well."

"For once he's right. Joking aside, Kel, the King ought to know it happened. It might happen again. And Lord Padraig, I suppose, in case it happens to anyone else."

"I promised him I would." A very long pause. "I've been regretting it ever since." "Why?"

"Why d'you think, Neal? The Girl claims a special relationship with the Chamber of the Ordeal. Right." Her voice dropped to a mutter. "Perhaps I slept with it, somewhere between all of you and Third Company."

Despite himself Neal laughed, then sobered. "I see your point, Kel, but Dom is right. This truth matters more than those stupid conservative lies."

"Maybe."

They rode in companionable silence, listening to the children, as shadows lengthened and the long dusk began. It was almost over, the summer stars beginning to show, when they came to the way -point, a clearing on the far side of a little ford, to find Dom's squad and the army men had already started fires and set cauldrons of soup and what smelled like boar stew heating. They'd also broken out bales of hay for the horses and ponies, who pushed forward impatiently as they were relieved of their burdens and unsaddled. Kel secured some for Peachblossom before turning back to the mob of waiting children.

With extra hands available end-of-day chores seemed ridiculously easier, but the children's relaxation was great enough that despite tiredness their play became more energetic, and for the first time Kel could remember minor squabbles broke out. Picking apart two entangled six-year-olds, orphans from Goatstrack, Kel found herself helped by a strange corporal, an older man who must have had children of his own and effortlessly held one crying youngster while Kel held the other. Mindful of Neal's words she let the tears flow, rocking the boy gently, and saw the corporal doing likewise. As sobs subsided he gave a smile.

"How far've you come wiv 'em, me Lady?" His voice had the unmistakeable accent of the Corus slums.

Kel added it up. "They were taken twelve days ago, and this'll be the sixth night since we rescued them. We've come a bit over a hundred miles."

He gave her a respectful look. "Fair speed wiv such a passel o' kids. It must 'ave been 'ard for you."

"Actually, they've been as good as gold, corporal. This is the first fussing we've had, even from the littles. It's just that they're relaxing, I think."

"Ah." He set his burden down, and Kel did likewise, crouching to hug both children and gently admonish them to wash their hands and faces before eating. As they ran off, tears forgotten, he looked at her again, his eyes sad. "It was that bad, then?"

She nodded. "It was, corporal. Not our journey, so much, but their capture and what came after. They've all seen things no-one should ever have to see."

"Ah. Well, they're rescued now. I should get some wood." He half-turned away, then swung back. "Beggin' your pardon, me Lady, but what did the Scanrans want 'em for? From what the other lot said it weren't just for slaves."

Kel hesitated but decided the soldier as much as the children deserved the truth, which was no secret anyway. "They were going to make more killing devices, corporal. One from each child murdered. And from what we saw and heard at Rathhausak, probably raped first by the mage doing the death-magic."

"No!" Eyes wide he spat, making the gods'-circle on his chest. "Black God take that

mage."

"He already has."

"Ah, gods all bless you, me Lady."

"It was my pleasure, corporal." She hesitated again, but hope and curiosity won. "Tell me, do you know if anything happened to the killing devices already in the field, about six days ago?"

He nodded vigorously, eyes widening again. "They all stopped, me Lady, or so I 'eard back at Mastiff before I left. I ain't seen them meself, but command was all runnin' round squawkin' on—let me see, now—the mornin' o' the eleventh, it bein' the sixteenth today. An' what the clerks said was, it was coz the killin' devices 'ad stopped 'ere an' at Frasrlund an' the City o' the Gods." He stopped to let Kel complete her muttered prayer of thanks to Mithros, his eyes sharp with calculation. "It was you what stopped 'em, then, me Lady?"

"That's when we killed the mage, yes. I hoped it'd mean all the devices stopped, but who knows what'll happen when mages are involved."

"You got that right, me Lady." He made the sign against evil again. "Should I tell others, then? About the devices stoppin', I mean. It's no secret they did."

"Please do."

Kel went to tell Neal herself, who gave his own thanks as a healer, and hugged her quickly, as did Fanche and Saefas. Dom and his men, she discovered, had already learned the news and were elated, remembering the first device they'd fought together at Forgotten Well and feeling that Lofren's and Fulcher's deaths had helped achieve even more than the rescue of the children. Their joviality drew in Uinse and the convicts, who also cheered, having themselves faced the devices both victoriously and in the horror of Haven's fall.

With all in good heart as well as better rations and bigger portions than any of them had seen in days there was real warmth in the evening conversation, though to Kel's mild irritation Wolset coaxed Irnai into repeating for the army men her prophecy of Kel's arrival. There was murmuring about the litany of names and unsubtle questions about Tobe as the 'horse boy' and Fanche as the 'bitter mother', as well as some very sidelong looks at the Protector of the Small. Neal, she thought glumly, was probably right that the Chamber's ridiculous tag would stick, and her only comfort was that fuller bellies made for sooner and sounder sleep.

They were later starting off the next morning, but not much, and the good trail with continuing fine weather allowed them to keep a faster pace. During the morning they crossed the Greenwoods River, passing the trail to Haven, and Kel found herself wondering with more urgency how Lord Wyldon would house the refugees. Haven itself was ruined beyond easy repair, and she thought the refugees would be as superstitious about rebuilding it as the soldiers were about rebuilding Giantkiller.

By the time dusk drew down Kel reckoned they'd managed more than forty miles in the day, double their average in Scanra, but it was eighty from the Vassa crossing to Mastiff. Their last night on the road was made easier still when they were met by the promised cook-wagon and a squad of soldiers escorting three healers, to offer Neal relief with the children. The faster passage had made for uglier saddle-sores and she gave thanks for someone's foresight—Lord Raoul's, she'd bet, though to be fair she knew that despite Lord Wyldon's manner as training-master he had his own soft spot for little ones.

With a proper breakfast and wonderfully fresh bread available they started later still, and at the healers' collective insistence kept the pace down, stopping frequently to allow children to switch places and animals. A further cook-wagon with a squad to guard it provided lunch and a longer break than usual, so it was early evening before Kel and Peachblossom led the long procession up the hillside into the great clearing that housed Mastiff. Coming from Haven she'd always ridden the courier-route over the hills, entering the open land from the north, and this western approach was unfamiliar—as were the scores of tents clustered around the fort, and the guards patrolling the treeline.

The sergeant who saluted them where the trail entered the clearing gave a hand-signal, and Kel was barely past him when she heard the horn -call rising behind her into the dusk. The answer was prompt, and before its echoes died she could see people running towards them from the tents, and more emerging from the fort. By the time the whole column had entered the meadow they were surrounded by the rescued adults from Haven, full of tears and joy as they welcomed children who scrambled down from patient horses and ponies to hug and be hugged. Mindful of how many were orphans Kel dismounted herself, seeing Neal, Owen, and Dom do the same, and began lifting more children down from the bigger horses, hugging each hard before letting them run or stand blinking, and turning for the next. Tobe, summoning abandoned horses for corralling and fodder, had a broad smile on his face, and the expressions of parents and carers reunited with

children they'd seen carried off by Stenmun and his men brought a lump to her throat. When groups began clustering round her, muttering gruff thanks and praises, she didn't try to stop her tears. It wasn't sobs that would have called out her Yamani mask, even now, just a silent overflow of relief and simple happiness at duty done.

As the press eased she dried her face and led Peachblossom slowly towards the fort, Jump at her heels. Irnai skipped from among the Scanran refugees to grasp her hand, smiling. Kel smiled back, but her stomach hollowed as she realised why Irnai had sought her out, and her heart began to hammer as she caught sight of the three men standing outside the open gates of the fort, watching as the first children ran or were carried past them. Dom, carrying Meech and holding Gydo's hand, was well ahead of her, and she saw Lord Raoul clap him on his free shoulder, asking something that drew a laugh and a bantering reply she couldn't hear. Beside Raoul, the faces of Duke Baird and Lord Wyldon seemed blanker, though after a moment she saw Baird spot Neal in the group behind her and abruptly start towards him. Courteous as always he detoured to pass her and paused a moment, glancing curiously at Irnai.

"Congratulations, Keladry. I didn't think I'd ever see these children again."

His voice was warm but his attention was on Neal and she waved him on, heartened by his praise but steeling herself for what she knew must follow. The last yards before she reached her trainers and commanders seemed the longest of the whole journey. Finally she trudged to a halt before them both, let go of Irnai's hand, and was trying to bend her aching legs to go to one knee when Raoul stepped forward and swept her into a crushing hug that bought a bolt of pain to her wounded shoulder.

"Gods, Kel, don't ever scare me like that again." Easing back as he heard her grunt of pain his eyes searched hers. "You're hurt?"

"Just my shoulder, my Lord. It's still tender."

"Mmh. You've lost weight, too. Do you need a healer?"

"Not immediately, my Lord." Gently she disengaged from him, and turned to Lord Wyldon. His face was as emotionless as ever but his dark eyes were intent.

"Well, Mindelan? Report."

She drew a deep breath. "I'm very sorry for my disobedience, my Lord. But before what must happen, I do need to report, not only to you, but to my Lord of Goldenlake, General Vanget, and probably the King."

His eyes went cool. "Concerning?"

"Blayce Younger the Gallan, my Lord, and how he was doing what he was at Castle Rathhausak."

He exchanged a surprised look with Lord Raoul.

"Rathhausak? King Maggur's clan-fief?"

"Yes, sir." She rested a hand lightly on Irnai's shoulder, seeing the moment when both men caught sight of the seer's intense green eyes. "This is Irnai, lately of Rathhausak, who can witness certain things and has a story of her own. She's chosen of Shakith, I believe. And my Lord, the Scanran refugees with us are all that remains of Maggur's own liegemen. Will you ensure they're kept together, and safe? It worries me they might be targets, when he hears they've fled."

The look in Lord Wyldon's eyes was unreadable, but after a moment and another glance at Raoul he nodded, and gave orders to a waiting sergeant to make arrangements. The man loped off and his gaze came back to her.

"This report is urgent?"

Kel nodded. "Yes, my Lord. Not in the sense that lives depend on it, but … well, politically. There are things you should all know before you decide what to say about the killing devices."

Both men frowned, before Lord Raoul replied.

"You know they all collapsed? We assumed … yes, well, we had to say something, so we've put it about that a new mage has entered the war and disabled them. Should we not?"

Kel gave her limited shrug. "I'm not sure, my Lord, but there's a better story than that if you want it."

"Very well." Lord Wyldon's voice was brisk. "But in that case we should do it now, if you're up to it, Lady Knight." Turning, he sent a man to fetch Duke Baird and another to find someone whose name Kel didn't catch. "Vanget retires early when he can. Come. Let one of the men take your horse." He looked at Peachblossom. "And no nonsense out of you."

Peachblossom snorted, but let Kel reluctantly give his reins to a waiting soldier, patting his neck and wondering when—if—she'd see him again, or the sparrows perched on his mane and Jump trotting behind. Lord Wyldon had already turned and gone, and Lord Raoul had taken Irnai's hand and followed, bending absurdly to speak to the girl. With a juddering breath and a last glance after Peachblossom, Kel forced herself to follow them through the great gates of the fort.


	4. Chapter 2

Reporting

Chapter Two — Reporting

18–19 June

To Kel's surprise Lord Wyldon didn't lead them to his office but up narrow stairs to a meeting-room she'd never seen. Despite summer warmth a small, well-tended fire crackled in an oddly placed hearth with flanking baskets of kindling and trimmed logs; a polished sheet of metal hung on a nearby wall. There were also a table, pushed aside, a large-scale map of the district, studded with pins, and a semi-circle of chairs with cushions facing both hearth and metal sheet. Kel realised the King would be contacted through the fire; how the sheet of metal worked she had no idea, but presumed it must be a mage-link to General Vanget at Northwatch.

Ahead of her Raoul gestured Irnai to a chair, and turned. "Hot juice, Kel? You look done

in."

She nodded her thanks. "That sounds good, my Lord." "I'll get some. Sit, sit."

He swung back out, calling for someone, and Kel looked wearily round. A chair was tempting but besides being in armour and unlikely to do any furniture much good, she knew that once she surrendered to exhaustion she'd go out like a light. Instead she fell into the 'at ease' stance she'd learned with the Own. Lord Wyldon, seating himself, looked at her curiously.

"You prefer to stand, Mindelan?"

"Once I'm down I'll be out, my Lord. Standing's safer."

"As you will." He peered. "Are you sure you don't need a healer?"

"It's not necessary, my Lord. And would certainly send me to sleep. Healing always

does."

He grunted acknowledgement, fingers drumming on his thigh, and seemed about to speak when Raoul returned carrying a tray with a steaming pitcher and sturdy clay mugs. Behind him came Duke Baird and Harailt of Aili; Kel had always liked the powerful university mage, and nodded gratefully at his congratulations on recovering the refugees.

Raoul poured juice, introducing Irnai to Duke Baird and Harailt as he gave her a cup and passed one to Kel. She cupped her hands around the warmth and sipped, savouring the tartness and spice-flavours.

"Will you not sit, Kel?"

"I'd rather stand, my Lord."

"I did ask her, Goldenlake. Now, Harailt, Baird?"

Both nodded. Baird went to the metal sheet, summoning a handful of green magic to send flowing across the surface. Beside him Harailt knelt before the fire, murmuring words that made it

blaze up with flames the deep red of his Gift.

Vanget responded first, Baird's magic clearing with a soft chime to reveal the haMinchi army commander leaning back with a frown against an enormous desk heaped with papers.

"What's up, Wyldon?" Kel had only once heard him speak before, though she'd seen him several times at a distance. His voice was deep but crisp, with a northern burr, fitting his weathered face and close-cropped hair. "Oh, she's back, I see." Kel met shrewd brown eyes. "I've been hearing remarkable things about you, Lady Knight." His gaze went back to Wyldon. "This is her report?"

"It is, Vanget. You're here at her request and we're waiting on His Majesty. Oh, and this is Irnai of Rathhausak, here with Mindelan."

Vanget frowned. "Rathhausak? Maggur's clanseat on the Pakkai? Is that—"

He was interrupted by Harailt's deliberately loud "Your Majesty", and Kel hastily gulped juice and set her mug on the table. As the mage rose from the fire and sat, a line of his Gift still connected to the flames, she could see that within them a window had opened to show King Jonathan of Conté. This manner of mage-talking had always unnerved Kel, though its usefulness was undeniable, but she braced herself with her familiar indifference to the King's striking good looks. Beneath handsome features his face was drawn, and he seemed far more tired than when she'd last seen him, six months before at the Palace. He was looking at Harailt, but as the fire bloomed with the deep blue of his Gift, mixing with Harailt's red, the window enlarged and his eyes swiftly scanned the room before resting on Kel.

"Ah. General Vanget, my Lords. You're back then, Lady Knight. With the kidnapped children?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

He smiled satisfaction. "Good, very good. You have my thanks, and Thayet's." Kel flushed and those piercing blue eyes studied her for a moment, before flicking to Irnai. "This girl is with you?"

"Yes, sire. May I present Irnai of Rathhausak." As General Vanget had, King Jonathan frowned. "She is witness to a thing I must report that you … well, you won't want to believe it, sire.

His face hardened. "That doesn't sound good, Lady Knight. But we'd best get to it. What have you to say?"

Kel swallowed and began the pitch she'd been rehearsing in her mind for days. "Sire, my Lords, I have a full written report of my actions, and the casualty roll." She took battered scrolls from her left vambrace and gave them to Wyldon, whose eyebrows rose. "But what matters is, first and most, that Blayce Younger the Gallan is dead and his papers and workshop put to the torch."

Vanget interrupted, meaty hands smacking together. "Thank Mithros for that. Numair said he must be dead when the killing devices collapsed, but I'm delighted to have confirmation. And his workshop destroyed! Good work. What of the man Stenmun working with him, that Scanrans call the Kinslayer?"

"Dead also, my Lord."

"Better and better. He's been a nasty name on this border for twenty years and more. Who

killed him?"

Kel blinked. She didn't know any more quite what she'd envisioned but it hadn't been this affably blunt warrior curiosity. "I did, sir. I had to go through him to get to Blayce."

"Good for you. On both counts."

"Thank you, sir." She forced herself back on track, trying not to let too much hope rise at his cheerful demeanour, and shifted her gaze back to the King. "The second thing, sire, is how Blayce was doing what he did." She hesitated. "I think you know that when the devices were killed by cracking their head domes, the voices were those of children?" Jonathan grimaced, nodding. "Well, I can confirm he murdered a child to make each one."

Kel saw both mages make the sign against evil and Raoul's fists clench.

"Haven's children were the real target of Stenmun's raid. The adults who resisted were hanged, and the rest sold to slavers on the Smiskir road. But the children were kept alive, no matter what they did, and taken on to Castle Rathhausak, where Blayce waited for them." She allowed herself a moment's pause. "Sire, no language I know has words for what he did. The villagers of Rathhausak speak of him as a nicor, a child-eating monster." To Kel, Blayce would always be the Nothing Man, a mousy, pimpled contradiction to the hideous scale of his magical crimes, but the old Scanran legend fitted her need. "Though I've never heard of a child-eater that played dressing-up games with its victims or raped them before it ate." She saw the King blanch. "And the reason Stenmun needed our children, sire, is that he'd already taken all of their own. Irnai here was the only Scanran child alive in Rathhausak."

In the horrified silence Irnai slipped from her chair to stand calmly beside Kel looking at the semicircle of men. Neither flame nor mirror seemed to interest her and her voice had no tremor.

"And for two score miles around. Stenmun took them all. First the pretty boys and girls, that the Gallan wanted most, then more and more, until few of any age were left. This spring he took even the slow ones, and the lame. Then there was only me."

The King spoke first. "Forgive me, Irnai, but how did you escape him, then?" "The god warned me, and when they came I hid where they would not be." Master Harailt's voice was gentle. "Do you know which god?" "The blind one who sees the future. She shows it to me sometimes." "You mean Shakith?"

Irnai shrugged. "She has many names and many forms. She showed me where I should hide and where I should go, and she told me that when the Protector of the Small came, with her knowing animals, and the healer and the horse boy, the armed men and the marked men, the trapper and the bitter mother, then the Gallan would fall." From the looks on the men's faces Kel knew Irnai had given that smile that was far too old for any child. "She was right."

The King's eyes found Kel. "Can you explain, Lady Knight?" "The names fit the people who were with me, sire." His eyebrows rose. "They do?"

"The healer would be Sir Neal, sire, and I have a boy with horse magic. The marked men are the convict soldiers, and the others are two leaders among the Haven refugees, Fanche Miller and Saefas Ploughman. Both refused to return with the adults and came on to Rathhausak."

"So the 'knowing animals' were that dog of yours and the sparrows? And you are the Protector of the Small, eh?" He gave a slight smile, at the name or her omission of it from her explanation. "It suits you."

Kel felt herself flush. 'It's just a silly name, sire. What matters is that King Maggur gave his own liege-children over to be killed." She couldn't stop contempt lacing her voice. "And his neighbouring clans' children. And I don't believe most of his soldiers know that."

Irnai's voice was emotionless. "News passes slowly in Scanra even in peace. And Rathhausak was shut up for years. Before the Kinslayer came for us we heard nothing but rumours of slaving."

Jonathan's eyes came back to Kel, widening. "You are suggesting we let them know?"

"I am, sire. It can only cause King Maggur trouble. And in the tents here there are now all forty-three adult survivors of Rathhausak, as well as Irnai, to bear witness to his slaughters." Kel hesitated and swallowed, knowing what she was about to say could be taken in many ways.

"Your enemy's betrayed liege-families, sire, whom you delivered from his doom, and now ask for your shelter." She swallowed again. "You also burned down his castle, cleansing an evil even the gods abominate. I believe Sir Myles might do something with such a truth to save Tortallan lives. It also represents a blódbeallár challenge in Scanran bloodlaw."

Not wanting to stare at Jonathan she looked aside and saw Raoul's face waver into a grin. "You said you had a better story than the one we'd made up, Kel, and you don't disappoint."

For the first time Lord Wyldon sat forward. "How much did you burn at Rathhausak?"

"Keep, hall, and stables, my Lord. Blayce's workroom was in the keep. Sparks lit the hall roof, and we fired the stables for good measure after we'd emptied them. We had nothing to blast with, so the walls and gatehouse stand, but it'll take some fixing."

"And the dead?"

"We burned our own in the courtyard. For the rest, well, we left the stormwings beginning their feast."

"Mmmh." He sat back, eyes hooded. "Very well. Is there anything else, Lady Knight."

Kel counted in her mind, tiredness pulling at her concentration more and more heavily. "Not really, my Lord. Blayce, his methods, and the chance to hurt Maggur with the truth. The safety of the villagers, after surviving so much. Oh, and coming back we didn't meet a single Scanran soldier between Rathhausak and the Vassa, but I don't suppose that matters now."

Irnai tugged at her sleeve and she looked down at the girl. Green eyes glowed back at her, something swirling behind them.

"You promised the sergeant you'd tell."

Kel cursed silently, glowering, but it was foolish to wonder how Irnai knew things, and whether it had been Dom or some quite other being who told her made no difference now. She rested her hand on Irnai's shoulder. "I know I did."

"Tell us what, Kel?" Raoul's look was concerned.

Defeated, Kel looked back at him, then at the curious mages, an intent General Vanget, and finally the King. She didn't dare meet Lord Wyldon's eyes. "Another thing I don't think you'll want to believe, sire, and that I do not willingly speak of." She stopped to draw a deep breath and heard Irnai sigh, then speak herself.

"Your Chamber chose her and spoke through me. The god was its path."

"My Chamber?" King Jonathan's brows drew down as he looked at Irnai and then Kel. "The Chamber of the Ordeal?"

Kel nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sire. So I believe. After my ordeal, at Midwinter, while I was still inside, it showed me a vision of Blayce. Later I spoke to it again, and it showed me the same thing."

"Wait." His voice was incredulous. "You entered the Chamber a second time?"

"Yes, sire." She turned to Lord Raoul. "Do you remember, my Lord, I tried to ask your advice, but I didn't know then I was allowed to speak of the vision."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I do remember. I told you no-one ever went in a second time." He glanced at Lord Wyldon, whose face was stone. "So you went straight there, I suppose."

"No, my Lord, but I had to, in the end. It showed me the vision of Blayce again and told me I could speak of it if I thought anyone would believe me." She shrugged faintly. "I didn't. And afterwards, it sent the vision again and again, in dreams." Her voice dropped. "So many times, always the same." Forcing herself away from the jagged emotions the memories still raised, even knowing Blayce was dead, she met the King's stare. "Then in Rathhausak I heard its voice from Irnai's lips. And in the castle, after I'd killed Blayce, its face appeared in the wall." She saw raw disbelief in his blue eyes. "I'm sorry, sire. I would never claim this in public. And I know how it must seem. But Sergeant Domitan heard Irnai too and he thought you ought to know. So did Sir Neal, who also believed you should inform Lord Padraig as training master."

The King's frown deepened into a scowl and his gaze swung around the room, gauging reactions before returning to her.

"It is not easy to believe, Lady Knight." His voice was hard. "I have never heard of the Chamber operating at a distance."

"There was never a need before, Jonathan of Conté."

Kel started at the familiar thin, whispering voice that came from Irnai's mouth but her reaction was nothing to that of the men, who uniformly went white. Even Lord Wyldon paled; every man there except Master Harailt was a knight by ordeal, whatever their inherited titles, and the Chamber's was not a voice anyone ever forgot.

"This time there was. The Protector of the Small spoke true. The gods hate death magic. I acted with Shakith and Gainel to end it, and I speak here with their aid."

Kel could feel her cheeks burning and hear the breaths drawn by all. General Vanget was no longer leaning against his desk but bolt upright, and tension sang in every face.

"I showed her this."

Eyes closed, Irnai raised her hands and light flowed from them, building another window

that from their intent stares everyone could see. In it Kel's nightmare appeared yet again, workshop, devices and all, and she looked at the floor, willing herself to Yamani blankness as the Nothing Man once more added another small, broken body to the pile already there. Risking a glance around she saw every face now flushed and openly shocked, mouths twisting in horror.

"And she did this."

The thin whisper sounded satisfied, as it had at Rathhausak, and this time Kel did watch in horrified fascination as the scene changed to the keep at Rathhausak and she once more tripped Stenmun and smashed the butt of her glaive between his eyes before cutting his throat. She found she was willing herself to find the severed griffin-feather headband sooner, to take Blayce as soon as she saw him in his workroom, not to be fooled by his hypnotising magic—but everything played out just as she remembered, save that she didn't recognise her own voice and Blayce remained visible to all but her image-self as he scrambled away from her and up onto a table. She had forgotten the necromancer's sneering arguments as he tried to save himself, boasting of his power and offering to make killing devices for Jonathan instead of Maggur, and she felt fierce satisfaction as her glaive at last caught him behind the knees to bring him down, then neatly beheaded him. But watching herself sway with effort she remembered with complete clarity what she'd said to his corpse and watched her mouth begin to open with an appalled sense of the floor again moving beneath her feet.

"You're wrong about my king, I think, but better that he not have the chance to be tempted by the likes of you. And frankly? What you just got was far more merciful than you deserved."

As her image-self turned away, leaning on her glaive, the doors of the Chamber appeared as they had then, from the inside, its yellow-eyed face sculpted into the keystone. Then the picture froze, and after a second the light disappeared as Irnai's hands fell to her sides. But the Chamber still possessed the girl, and Kel knew in her fear and mortification it was again amused at her expense.

"Remember it, Jonathan of Conté. I do not judge or choose amiss. Nor do the gods." Abruptly the Chamber's tone modulated into what Kel thought of as its grumpy voice. "Shakith wants her chosen back."

Even as it spoke Irnai's body went rigid, eyes opening wide and white, her hair crackling and standing away from her head. The voice that broke from her was high and shrill, a hawk's call in the distance.

"When the stormwings play again above the Greenwoods, the war will end."

Irnai sagged as her knees buckled and would have fallen if Kel hadn't stretched to catch her, clamping her mouth against sharp pain as the sudden movement tore at her wounded shoulder. Holding Irnai she felt blood trickling onto her breast but Duke Baird was with her, easing the small body to the floor and letting his magic play over Irnai's face and torso for a long minute.

"She's alright, I think." His voice was rougher than usual, edged with unease. "Knocked out by the divine passing through her, I suppose. Numair has more experience of this sort of thing." He snagged a cushion to slip under Irnai's head, stroking her wild hair a little flatter. "Her fugue will pass into true sleep, I expect, but I've no idea when." He reached for her wrist, then laid a hand on her arm. "She's freezing. Wyldon, is there—"

"I'll get a blanket."

He rose and left swiftly, and Kel heard breaths let raggedly out around the room before the

King spoke.

"Gods! Literally." His expression was unfathomably complex and his voice very flat. "I loathe prophecies. Any guesses as to what exactly that one meant?"

Kel's eyes met General Vanget's, dark in his pale and sweating face, and he nodded her to speak. Her voice sounded harsh but at least it seemed her own, unlike the voice she'd heard from her image-self. "Haven is in the Greenwoods valley, sire. And after Stenmun's raid its dead were defiled by stormwings." She had to swallow her rage. "One of them apologised to me for it, afterwards, in a stormwing way." She ignored the startled looks and Lord Wyldon's return with a blanket that he knelt to tuck gently around Irnai, though she felt an urge to thank him. "So what it meant, sire, is that whoever next commands in that valley should expect the war's last battle to be fought there."

Seating himself again, Lord Wyldon nodded sharply. "I would agree, sire, though I note that the girl—or the god—did not say with whom or what the stormwings might play. Will you ask Master Numair?"

"I will. Not that I'll get sensible answers. Which I now require." The King's gaze pinned Kel. "Lady Knight, I do not believe I have been so astonished by anyone since I first met Daine. And she proved Godborn. Plainly, please, when you went after Blayce, were you compelled?"

Kel shook her head, feeling tiredness seep back into her limbs as the shock of hearing the prophecy wore off. "No. sire, not magically. My actions were my own to choose and I went after my people, not after Blayce. But I knew in my heart he would be waiting for them, and the children were foremost in my mind." She hesitated, trying to search her conscience. "I think knowing I obeyed the Chamber helped me ignore my doubts and fears." She swallowed, hard. "And my regrets."

"I imagine it might." His voice was very dry. "So, Lady Knight. The gods gave you no Gift but watch you as they watch their chosen. And I find myself deeply in your debt."

Kel stared, confusion crowding her mind. Her shoulder hurt horribly. "I don't understand,

sire."

"Do you not, Lady Knight? Is there nothing you would ask of me?"

He must mean her treason, and some part of her mind tried to sharpen. "Oh. That." The King frowned and she made a huge effort to marshal her thoughts. "I would ask your pardon for those who followed me, sire. Especially Owen." His frown dissolved into puzzlement and Kel hurried on. "Jesslaw, sire. And I would beg your care of the villagers from Rathhausak, and your defence of Mindelan if King Maggur learns of my part in what happened." Was there anything else? Should she ask about the convicts who had borne so much, so valiantly?

The King's voice was still bone dry. "All this for others, Lady Knight? And nothing for yourself?"

Gathering her last strength Kel straightened, ignoring her shoulder. "I cannot honourably ask pardon for myself, sire, for were my choice to make over I would do the same thing again." She felt herself sway and forced more effort into her legs.

"Wait. What has pardon …" His face became incredulous as he worked it out. "You give this report and stand there believing I would have you charged with treason? Are you mad?"

Kel felt indignation blossom. "Not in the least, Your Majesty. But after nine years of it, I

know full well what the political consequences of my disobedience must be."

King Jonathan's face froze. "The political … You think I'd throw you to Stone Mountain for this? That"—his voice again took on that controlled flatness—"that I'd have you executed to shut him up? You cannot …" His voice trailed off and Kel heard herself speak.

"I know what reality has taught me, sire." She felt herself sway again. "But I thought you'd leave it as an army matter."

"You think I want you dead?" Lord Wyldon's voice held a note she'd never heard and her head snapped round to face his pain.

"What does want have to do with anything, my Lord? It's your duty to maintain discipline, as it proved mine to break it. I regret nothing but my dead."

"Gods. Mindelan."

Kel didn't know how long the silence lasted until she heard Duke Baird's voice in the distance.

"Keladry, you're bleeding! Wyldon, can you get her—"

She felt hands unbuckling her armour, the halves of her cuirass lifted away, and her filthy gambeson unbuttoned and slipped down her arms as she was pushed into a chair. Someone hissed, and she heard Baird's voice again, coolly professional.

"I'll have to cut off the shirt. It's beyond saving anyway."

Cool metal slid against her skin, air brushed against her, and the wound above her breast shrieked as more scabs were lifted away with her shirt. Then a blessed coolth and ease surged into her, her blurred vision sparkling with green before clearing to show her a strip of floor with a blood-soaked swatch of material. Faintly she heard a voice she thought was the King's, awake? … things … saying , before she felt her hands grasped and another voice drove into her fogged mind, as once through sheer terror.

"Mindelan! Listen to me. Listen. You've lost a lot of blood. What gave this wound?" "Axe-head," she heard herself mutter in compelled response. "Stenmun."

Duke Baird's voice sounded cross and her indignation flared again. "Nealan should have done better."

She spoke as loudly as she could. "He was exhausted, your Grace." "He should know how to triage by now."

With a huge effort she pulled her good hand free and reached up to grasp Baird's wrist. "He does. He did. Three at least live who wouldn't otherwise. Including me." Her hand dropped back into her lap, where it was again held.

Baird's voice was gentler. "I understand, Keladry. Yet much was left undone, and for long." A hand cupped her neck and green fire cleared her head. "Say what you must with all speed, Wyldon."

The driving voice came again, Mindelan!, and she blinked mute protest. "I hear you, my

Lord."

"Good." His voice became as dry as the King's had been, and he sat back slightly on his heels though keeping his grip on her hands. "Your military analysis was flawed, Mindelan. My duty to discipline must be balanced with my duties to those I command, to the future of the realm, and to morale. You will face no charge, nor any who accompanied you. Now heed the King."

Obediently her gaze tracked across to the face leaning forward from the fire.

"Your political analysis was flawed for the same reason, Lady Knight. You must learn to value yourself as we have learned, not least tonight." Blue eyes seemed to grow even bluer. "Once you are healed, we must talk again. But now I will make you a political deal I believe you will accept."

Kel watched with a sense of faint puzzlement as he drew a deep breath and seemed to brace himself.

"Keladry of Mindelan, nine years ago Lord Wyldon and I did you a grave disservice. You know it, he knows it, and I know it. When we imposed that probationary year, we bent justice against you. So now we bend it in your favour and judge the great services you—and all who helped you—have done us, and the realm, without noticing the disobedience from which they grew. Are we agreed?"

Kel thought about it. Somewhere in her mind a sardonic voice she didn't like was saying that Jonathan of Conté, as usual, had got himself a good deal, paying down his own expediency with someone else's sacrifice, but the louder voice sang pure relief, for Owen and her family, Yuki and Shinko who might have been tainted by her treason, and underneath it all for herself. The girl who could, and did, and had. She would see Peachblossom again, and Jump and Nari. Head slightly wobbly, she nodded.

"I can live with that, sire."

She tried to smile at him, to convey her happiness and relief, and blackness tinged with green swirled up to claim her.

As Kel was carried out, shoulder tightly bandaged with Baird hovering beside her and a blanket-wrapped Irnai, Raoul dropped onto a chair and let out a long breath.

"Gods! I know how to pick 'em, don't I?" His eyes met Jonathan's and he shook his head ruefully. "I'm sorry I didn't realise she was talking to the Chamber, Jon. She did ask about it, but, well, who'd have thought—"

"No blame to you, Raoul. Wild horses wouldn't get me inside it again."

"Nor me." Vanget's expression mixed admiration and incredulity. "Two ordeals? What's she made of? Yamani steel?" He barked a laugh. "You must admit, Wyldon, the joke's on us this time."

Wyldon's face was drawn but his eyes sparked as he nodded. "Yes. I've never known a finer knight, nor one so blind to her own worth. And that is the mark of my failing."

"And of mine." Jonathan's voice was clear and hard. "Nor are we alone. A lot of people

are going to look rather silly when this news breaks. And Mithros knows Alanna will be impossible. But our consciences must wait. General Vanget, do you agree we should use this tale? And get Sir Myles to spread it inside Scanra?"

"Yes, sire, I do. With the devices dead Maggur must be having problems already, and the horror of this will hit his men and his authority hard. As it should."

"Mmmm. Then I think we must have our Lady Knight leading." He sighed. "It couldn't well be concealed anyway, and truth is usually best. But with apologies, Lord Wyldon, I think we have to say she went at your and my command."

Wyldon nodded. "Agreed, sire." He gave a faint shrug. "It cuts through the muddle."

"And will head off Stone Mountain or anyone else who hears some rumour and wants to make trouble for her." Jonathan's voice was shrewd. "To be fair to her fears, he probably would try it if he thought of it. He's still half-deranged by his son's death. Which brings us to the Chamber. What should we do about that, my Lords?"

"There's nothing we can do, sire, or that we should." Wyldon's voice was unyielding and there were sharp nods all round. "It does as it will, always. As do the gods. It was I who misjudged Joren and Keladry as pages, not the Chamber." He frowned. "Much as I hate to agree with him, Sir Nealan's right you should tell Lord Padraig about all this, not that there's much he can do. Though I suppose knight masters could ask those emerging from their Ordeals if they have been given any … quest is the word, I think. But Mindelan's right that this part of events should not be publicised." He glanced at Vanget and Harailt, then looked at Raoul. "I'm not endorsing them, Goldenlake, but conservatives would find it hard to swallow the Lady Knight as the Chamber's chosen."

Raoul's smile was mirthless. "So would progressives, Cavall. So do I, come to that. And Kel would hate it—you heard her." His face tightened. "But while Mithros knows I'll be delighted to see her given her due otherwise, I think she's right about the risk of Maggur's revenge. If his control is slipping he'll be desperate to regain it, and if we put the story about he'll know exactly who to blame for killing his pet mage and burning his castle." His fist banged softly on the chair leg. "We know he'll hurt whoever's in his reach, and then there's the blódbeallár thing—home fief for home fief. Pull two navy ships off piracy patrol and get them to Mindelan, Jon? If half-a-dozen wolf-ships came in there out of an autumn fog …" The King winced, nodding, and Raoul's gaze went back to Wyldon. "What are you going to do with Kel, Cavall?"

"Give her back to her refugees, I should think. There'd probably be a riot otherwise. You saw how they greeted her." Wyldon rubbed his forehead. "They'll have to go back to the Greenwoods valley, prophecy or no. With the south closed there's nowhere else to put them. So someone has to be in charge there, and she's still by far the best option I have."

"Fair enough. But that prophecy needs thinking on. If we know there's to be another battle there …"

"And where do we get the men, Goldenlake? I can find a few extra squads, but more would leave Mastiff vulnerable, and you know it."

"We can build properly, though." Vanget's voice was crisp. "I've not seen that valley for years, but if Harailt and Numair can lift enough ground we ought to be able to give the camp a proper wall and gates. Extra men won't mean much if they end up facing an attack in force with a single half-height palisade and no earthworks or abatis. When you've a site sorted I can send the eastern building team along as well. They can help out at Giantkiller too, once they're done."

Harailt, Raoul, and Wyldon were nodding and Jonathan gave a crooked grin. "Good. Something else settled. I'll let Numair know he'll be needed."

"Daine too, if she's available, Jon. Those 'knowing animals' weren't just Kel's dog and birdies, but a whole pack of dogs and cats Daine magicked a few months back."

"She did?"

"She did. Masbolle told me she thought they needed all the help they could get."

"Very well. With Blayce found and killed she should have a bit less on her spying plate. Not that that means much, gods know, with all we ask of her. Now, my Lords, anything else tonight? Raoul?"

"One thing, maybe, Jon. Those convict soldiers—might you order their magemarks cancelled? All else aside, it should help us recruit more of the condemned in the mines, and Kel's shown a real knack for getting the best out of them. Same way she's so good with the commoners and rank-and-file."

"Well enough. I'll try Turomot. They certainly deserve something."

"I can send you their names." Wyldon uncharacteristically hesitated. "Do you propose other rewards, sire?"

"Eventually, certainly." Jonathan frowned. "You think we should do something sooner?"

"Maybe. It would go with their story."

"Mmm. What, though? A purse and a promise?"

"I was thinking of some smaller, less usual purses. Those under arms were doing their duty, but the civilians—Mistress Fanche and her Saefas, perhaps. Even young Tobe, from the number of beasts they bought back."

"Who?"

"Mindelan's boy with horse magic. The one who brought us word of the attack on Haven."

"Oh, yes. Alright."

"But for Mindelan herself … I don't know."

"Then it must wait. Or you've a suggestion, Raoul?"

"Not for Kel. But I wondered, while they're rebuilding, if Roald might visit. And if it's quiet enough, the Princess too. Kel's close to both of them, and if the villagers from Rathhausak are there as well …"

Jonathan's face was very still. "Vanget?"

"Fine by me, sire, if it's quiet. And actually, it might help the Prince. You know he goes half-crazy cooped up here."

"Alright. I like it and I'll talk to Thayet. Anything more? Then I must find Sir Myles, my Lords, and for once surprise him. Goodnight, and gods all bless."

As the King's blue magic faded and Harailt let his own line to the flames drop, the blaze in the hearth vanished to show only ash and embers. Vanget grunted.

"Never did understand how those fire-links go on working when they've no fuel left. These spellmirrors are much better, never mind that the mages needn't stay. No offence, Harailt."

"None taken." Harailt's scholarly face was drawn. "What an astonishing evening. I don't like how direct the gods are being, at all. For months even good seers have been saying everything's splintered, and now this. Numair tells me Daine's parents say we're at some kind of crossroads in time, with even the gods waiting to see what happens. But something's changed, obviously, with Blayce's death."

"And the Kinslayer's, maybe." Vanget sounded thoughtful. "As best we can guess he was one of Maggur's long-time hatchet-men. Before we had reports of him as Blayce's keeper Myles reckoned he was in charge of Maggur's hostages—so his loss may be a bigger blow for the Maggot than we know."

"Your mouth to Mithros's ear." Raoul hunched, cracking his knuckles. "I should go see Masbolle and his men. He said they lost two at Rathhausak and they're a tight-knit bunch."

Vanget grunted. "What was the butcher's bill, Wyldon? I'll want copies of those reports she gave you as soon as you can, but I confess I'm curious."

"I haven't looked." Wyldon retrieved the crumpled scrolls Kel had given him, flattening them on his lap. "More credit to her. A full and legible report, written on the move. I still don't have one from Hollyrose." He shuffled papers. "This must be the … Mithros!"

"What?" Raoul and Vanget spoke in unison.

Wyldon didn't look up but slowly reflattened the papers and began to read.

"The Tortallan dead, excluding those found and buried at Haven. Before the Vassa. Hildurra Ward, clerk of Haven, bled out. Kelton of Hannaford, logger, hanged, and his wife Lerna, bled out in childbed; also her unborn.

"At Vassa Bluffs, all found hanged. Senner and Anta Forgeman of Hannaford, smiths.

Vordern of Tirrsmont, farrier. Broder Reed, convict soldier. Einur Peterson, army cook.

"At Rathhausak, in battle. Gilead Lofts, Morun Locksman, Petter Miller, Cladir Sweep, Garto Freeman, and Jorvik Rider, convict soldiers of Haven. Corporal of the Own Jerol Fulcher and Ownsman Ardis Lofren, Third Company, on detached service. Windtreader, known as Happy, warhorse. Shepherd, a boarhound, and three nameless dogs of Haven.

"In all, thirteen men, three women, one unborn, and the animals."

Vanget harrumphed. "Good detail. Good attitude, too. And lower numbers than I'd expected, Wyldon. You too surely?"

"It wasn't our casualties that made me exclaim, Vanget. It was the enemy's." Wyldon's voice cracked slightly as he continued reading. "The Scanran dead. Between the Vassa and the Smiskir. Twenty-five soldiers, twenty-three adults and two youths. Ten soldiers, all adults.

"At Pakkai Junction. Ninety-seven soldiers, eighty -one adults and sixteen youths. One-hundred-and-eleven armed slavers, ninety-nine adult men, seven youths, and five adult women.

"In the Pakkai valley. Eighteen soldiers, all adult. Three killing devices.

"At Castle Rathhausak. One-hundred-and-forty-six soldiers, all adult. Stenmun Kinslayer.

Blayce Younger the Gallan.

"In all, four-hundred-and-four, including twenty-five youths, five women, and three children already dead."

He looked up, shock plain on his face. "They killed more than twenty for one and lost less than one in three."

Vanget had been scribbling numbers as Wyldon read them and looked up, face grim. "Discounting our civilians but not the slavers, the ratio of dead is one to forty-four and some. Gods! Do you believe it?"

"Kel doesn't lie, Vanget." Raoul's voice was certain despite his own shock. "You heard her. And it makes sense, sort of—apart from the slavers, where Hollyrose said she somehow got the adult refugees free before she attacked, and the fight at Rathhausak, it sounds like whittling 'em down. She knows my line about changing the odds if you don't like 'em. So, four defeats in detail. And from what Masbolle told me, Rathhausak was a successful night assault from within and without that achieved complete surprise. The fighting odds there were … what, five-to-one? I bet all but a score of those Scanrans died without their armour on."

"Gods is still right, though, Raoul." Harailt reached to pour himself some long -cold juice. "I'm sure Keladry speaks nothing but the truth and equally sure the gods watched her fight. Even as we did."

"Maybe. But for all we were watching by magic, Harailt, there was no sign of anything but guts and skill in what we saw."

"I don't deny it, but even so." A sly look came into the mage's eyes. "By the way, my Lords, what did you make of Keladry's words to Blayce's corpse about the King? I almost thought from her expression that she felt the Chamber was teasing her when it showed us that."

Raoul grinned. "I didn't see Kel's face but the look on Jon's was priceless. And she was right on both counts. He wouldn't countenance necromancy for a second and it's far better he never be tempted." His grin faded. "As we all learned from Thom of Trebond necromancy has a way of tempting men."

"Mithros!" Wyldon snapped his fingers and the others looked at him in surprise. "Do you not see the pattern? You were there, weren't you, Goldenlake, when the Lioness killed Duke Roger?"

"Both times, Cavall, as you well know. What of it? And what pattern?"

"A Lady Knight kills a necromancer? Against all odds, twice over, in successive generations?"

Raoul sat back, surprise on his face as on Vanget's and Harailt's. "Good point." They all considered it. "No earthquake this time, though, thank Mithros and the Goddess."

Harailt nodded. "The latter, I think. Children are in her care and of all the Great Gods she and the Black God have always been said to loathe necromancy the most. It's an offence against the natural orders of birth and death. I'll mention your thought to Numair, Wyldon, if I may. It's a very interesting coincidence."

"As you will, Harailt, but it's no coincidence." His voice slowed in thought. "Though

perhaps while the gods acted through the Lioness, they have blessed us with Mindelan." He paused, seeming embarrassed at what he'd said, and went on briskly "Be that as it may, my Lords, I've had enough theology for one night. And we should all be doing."

The meeting broke up, Vanget wishing them well and repeating his requests for copies of Kel's and any other reports before disappearing from the spellmirror, while Harailt wandered out, muttering something about Numair. Wyldon followed but turned in the door to look back at Raoul, still slumped in his chair.

"Come with me to see the refugees before you see Masbolle, Goldenlake? I'd be grateful for your sense of these Scanrans, and I imagine you'd like to hear what they have to say about their rescuers."

Sighing, Raoul heaved himself upright, feeling a greater liking for the former training master than he had for a while.

"Of course."

Kel woke slowly, realising it was the kind of waking that followed deep healing. When she tried to open her eyes her blurry vision was full of tiny sparks, so she left them closed and considered. Her mouth felt foul and her limbs heavy, but warm and relaxed, and the pain in her shoulder was a fraction of what it had been. It felt bandaged but she didn't seem to be wearing much else, and presumed she must be in an infirmary until the thought brought a rush of memory.

Foremost was the profound relief of realising that the children and all their rescuers were at last safe from Scanrans and Tortallans alike, but hard on its heels came realisation that she had collapsed and been stripped to her breastband in front of her entire chain of command. Mortification jerked her eyes open and she simultaneously felt a weight stir by her leg, saw an out-of-focus sparrow peering down at her from the headboard, and heard a familiar voice.

"You're awake. Hold still a minute."

Neal felt her pulse and forehead, then nodded and helped her sit up a little, plumping a pillow behind her head before hurrying out. Jump looked on approvingly, tail thumping, and Nari hopped down to her uninjured shoulder, peeping softly as Neal returned, supporting her head to present her with one of his vile teas. How something so foul-tasting could cleanse her mouth Kel had no idea, and her reward for choking it down was both to feel her head clear and to have the tea replaced with a tall glass of a fruit twilsey she was trusted to hold for herself.

"Drink up. You need fluid." Neal shifted his chair and sat again, looking at her. His face had the pained expression she knew meant he was exasperated, blended with something she couldn't identify. Lowering the glass to her chest, which had the benefit of holding the sheet in place to preserve her modesty, she looked at him affectionately.

"What time is it?"

"Late morning. You've been out for twelve hours. But the important thing, Kel, is that you're an idiot."

She thought about it. "I am?"

"Yes, you are. Do you remember me asking you, oh, a dozen times while we were travelling, if you were alright? And you saying every single time you were fine? Yes? Well, you weren't, because I didn't do a good enough job on you at Rathhausak, for which I have been thoroughly scolded by my dear papa."

"Oh." She tried a smile. "I told him you did all you possibly could, Neal, and more. Don't be cross."

"Cross? Cross! I'm not cross with you, Kel. I'm … I'm …" "Upset?"

He stared at her. "Try baffled and worried. Kel, you must have been in serious pain from that wound."

"It was only pain. I suppressed it."

"You suppressed it." He shuddered. "Kel, you must have a brain in there somewhere so will you please use it. Pain is a warning. Serious pain is an alarm. It tells you something's wrong. Something I could have fixed."

"I couldn't risk wasting your Gift on me when we might have had to fight at any time. Suppose a child had been wounded, Neal? Suppose one had died because I thought my shoulder hurt too much? I'd never forgive myself."

"You didn't think it hurt too much, Kel. It did hurt too much. And it's not wasting the Gift when the alternative is doing yourself serious damage and fainting from blood loss!"

She tried to hide her blushes in the glass of twilsey. "No fair, Neal. That was only because I tore it open again grabbing Irnai when she fainted. I didn't realise it was bleeding so badly."

"And it was bleeding so badly because you hadn't let me treat you as you needed." He still sounded indignant but curiosity distracted him. "Why did Irnai faint, anyway? She was fine earlier and wandered off this morning as if nothing had happened, but father was fussing like a loon over her last night when he wasn't flapping his arms about you and telling me off from here to Midwinter."

The images made Kel smile but caution gripped her tongue. "What did anyone else say about what happened?"

"No-one said a gods-blessed thing to me. That's why I'm asking you."

Kel hesitated. "I think I'd better stay quiet too, I'm afraid. But the Chamber spoke through her, so that's all dealt with. Your father thought she fainted because of its power."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense." He looked disappointed. "Can you really say nothing else,

Kel?"

"Not about Irnai." The memory of the seer's prophecy made her extremely uncomfortable and she thought it unlikely it would be made public any time soon. "For the rest, I reported. General Vanget and the King asked questions, were very happy Blayce and Stenmun were dead, and pardoned our disobedience."

Neal grinned. "Told you. What did the Stump say?"

"I didn't have the chance to talk to him properly. Nor to my Lord. It was all General Vanget and the King." She turned the subject. "What were you and the others doing?"

"Getting the younglings settled and having a long, glorious wash, mostly. Until I was summoned to explain your wound and be told off, that is."

She was glad to hear a teasing note return to his voice but gladder still when Duke Baird's voice came from the doorway.

"As was proper. How else will you learn?" He came forward, dropping a hand on Neal's shoulder. "How are you feeling, Keladry? You lost a lot of blood."

"Fine, thank you, your Grace."

"I doubt it." He shifted his hand to her bandaged shoulder, sending a pulse of magic into her, then a longer stream. "You should drink as much as you can and sleep again. And no more stoicism. Your weight's down badly and you need to put it back. The gods know you'll be busy again soon enough. Neal, there's a soldier coming in with a badly crushed finger. You're still too drained to help, but you should come watch the bonework."

With a quick smile he strode out, and Neal stood with a muttered curse. "I'll be back."

Left to herself Kel stroked Nari with a gentle forefinger, then felt the healing tug at her mind and let her hand drop as her eyes closed. When she woke again the animals were gone and there was no sign of Neal, but an orderly was setting down a tray beside her bed. Seeing her eyes open he helped her to sit up, awkwardly clutching the sheet, and shifted the tray to her lap.

"You've missed lunch by a ways, my Lady, but we saved you cold cuts and fruit. When you've eaten and drunk you're cleared to rise and dress, but must keep your arm in a sling until His Grace says otherwise. There's people who want to see you, then you're to report to my Lord of Cavall."

He bustled out as Kel murmured thanks. Finding herself ravenous and thirsty she tackled the contents of the tray with gusto. Repletion and what seemed like a gallon of twilsey left her feeling sleepy again but her bladder was demanding she make it at least as far as the adjoining privy. Once there and more comfortable, simple decency and the waiting ewer of warm water required that she strip off the stained loincloth that was all she had on and cleanse herself from top to toe, working round the bandages on her shoulder. Much happier but sharply conscious of her nakedness she peered carefully round the privy door, prepared to make a dash for the sheets, but found the outer door closed and a pile of clothes folded neatly on the bed. A worn breastband and loincloth must belong to a Queen's Rider; the clean breeches, shirt, and tunic were her own, and after a moment she realised her travel bag had been left here when news of Haven's fall had sent her riding into the night.

Decent again, though unshod, she reluctantly donned the last item, a linen sling, and let her arm rest below her breasts. The ease in her shoulder was palpable, and she wondered how soon she could return to her dawn glaive practice. Healers were always fusspots but the next battle didn't wait on their caution, nor the next chore, and a warrior out of practice was a liability. Boots were all she needed to face the world and she wondered where hers had got to—and her armour, come to that. Fuelled with determination she opened the door and promptly found her waist and leg engulfed by Gydo and Meech; beyond them Tobe and Loesia rose from chairs, the former holding up her boots, cleaned and polished.

Smiling at the pair, she hugged Gydo with her free arm and crouched to transfer it to Meech. Easing his grip on her leg the boy reached out gently to stroke the hand protruding from

her sling and again buried his head against her.

"You're hurt." His voice was almost inaudible. "Will you get better?"

"Oh yes, sweeting. I'm all healed. I just have to rest my shoulder for a while." She stroked his hair. "How are you? I'm so proud of you being so brave for so long."

He peeked up at her. "I was scared."

"So was I, Meech." She eased him back so she could look straight at him. "Bravery isn't not being scared. Everyone gets scared sometimes. It's doing what you have to do even when you're scared. And you did, brilliantly. You're my hero, you know."

His smile was blinding. "And you're mine."

She hugged him hard enough to produce a faint squeak, and rose slowly so whatever blood she had left didn't drain from her head and embarrass her again. Meech held her leg and she let her good arm rest across Gydo's shoulders as she met Tobe's eyes. "How are you? And how's your side?" He'd taken an arrow at Rathhausak.

"Never better, Mother. The wound's just a scar now, and I'm fed an' washed an' everythin' but home."

"That'll take a while, Tobe." She reached to ruffle his hair affectionately. "Wherever home might turn out to be."

He nodded. "My lord said we'd be rebuildin' soon as we can." "Which my lord?"

"Lord Wyldon." Tobe never used Neal's nickname for Mastiff's commander. "You're to see him straightaway. Let me do your boots."

She let herself be persuaded to a chair, exchanging a quick handclasp with Loesia. Sitting put her eyes at Gydo's level, and while Tobe eased her boots on she asked quiet questions about the girl's welfare, and how other children were faring. Reassured, and intrigued by Meech's excited claim that 'the big, curly man' had told them the King was very pleased with them all, she accepted Loesia's hand to haul herself to her feet and they set off towards the sunshine streaming through the infirmary door.

Outside the girls skipped away, Meech happily swinging between them, and Kel walked slowly with Tobe towards the command building. Halfway across the parade ground she realised the casual conversations and background noise of a working fort had dropped away as soldiers stared at her, not only on the ground but from the gateway and alures. Her Yamani mask slipped into place but when clapping started she could not prevent herself flushing scarlet. A glance at Tobe showed him beaming boyish pride and her mortification was complete when Lord Wyldon appeared in the doorway of the command building, drawn by the noise, and stood watching too, puzzlement vanishing into his usual impassivity as he took in what was happening.

"Mindelan." She had expected his voice to be sardonic but it was simply calm as he inspected her briefly. "You're looking better. Come in."

He went back inside and Kel followed, squeezing Tobe's shoulder in silent thanks and being rewarded with a dazzling smile as he trotted off towards the stables. The door to Lord Wyldon's office stood open and he waved her to a chair, closing the door behind her before pouring her yet more twilsey and seating himself behind his neatly crowded desk.

"Baird says you need to drink."

Wishing her face would cool faster she thanked him and sipped, sitting as upright as her chair allowed. To her surprise he leaned back, one hand rising to touch his scarred cheek and rub his forehead. He seemed oddly hesitant but sat forward again, taking a breath.

"Lady Knight—Keladry—I owe you an apology. Two in fact."

She managed to catch her jaw before it dropped.

"You owe me an apology? Surely I owe one to you, my Lord, for my disobedience."

He waved a hand. "No, no. We dealt with that and one apology I owe you is for the misguided order you disobeyed. I placed the refugees in your care and had not relieved you of that responsibility. I should not have ordered you to abandon them."

Uneasily she let her gaze fall to the papers on his desk. "You had other responsibilities, my Lord, of which I knew nothing."

"Maggur's little foray, you mean? It makes no odds, and events have shown you were right to do as you did. Look at me, please."

Startled she raised her eyes and saw his expression was at once compassionate and, she would have sworn, embarrassed.

"The other apology is more complicated, I'm afraid, and more serious. Do you recall what the King and I said to you last night?"

She thought back and realised what he must mean. "You both said my analysis was flawed."

"Yes, military and political alike, for the same reason—you placed no value on yourself. Some of that is simply lack of experience of what the King, or people like myself and Duke Turomot, will and will not do to placate people like Stone Mountain and Genlith. But some is not and in large part my fault. Don't look so startled—we both know I did little to encourage you as a page and much to make it harder for you than it should have been."

Kel's surprise was compounded by his wry smile. When she'd first seen him here in the north, at Giantkiller, she'd realised that in field command he was happier than he'd ever been as training master. But she still couldn't recall seeing him smile.

"In my defence, I might say boys do not usually need their self-importance boosting, and your mask led me to believe your defiance of convention was fed by a pride that would sustain you. But I entirely misunderstood your modesty, and your clear inability last night to understand how important a figure you are becoming must be addressed, however uncomfortable we both find it."

His gaze swung away for a moment before returning to her.

"I also belatedly realise that my decision to place you in command at Haven must have seemed a further denigration of your abilities. I believed you might think, however wrongly, that I was protecting you from front-line combat. And I knew you understood my decision was nevertheless genuine, that you were—are—the best commander available to me. But I regret it did not occur to me that you might think it a political refusal to credit your worth."

Kel had never heard him speak so openly, but as she tried to absorb his words she realised she'd never had a genuine conversation with him, even reporting to him as a commander—and his demeanour towards her as training master was at the root of that. But there was no trace of that reserved disapproval today. She fumbled for words.

"I didn't, exactly, my Lord. And I soon realised how much the work mattered, and that I enjoyed it. It was just … I don't know, it was like waiting to be picked as a squire, before Lord Raoul came back to the palace and I thought with Lady Alanna forbidden from choosing me no knight would want to take The Girl."

His wry smile returned. "I can see that. And I realised last night, after the drama, that you reminded me of your attitude after rescuing your maid. You truly believed then, though nothing that happened was any fault of yours, that I would make you repeat all four years."

"That was the rule."

He snorted. "That was a threat, Keladry. What possible use would it be to the realm to make someone as capable as you kick your heels for four years repeating training you had mastered? In any case, the threat was designed to ensure punctuality, not punish someone who was criminally prevented from arriving at all."

The reference to Joren's kidnapping of Lalasa brought a look of extreme distaste to his austere face.

"Similarly, penalties for disobedience are severe for good reason. But what is necessary when a soldier is a real troublemaker, or a coward, is hardly called for when a full commander knows their senior is ignorant of something that matters, and in disregarding a misguided last-minute order saves hundreds of lives that would otherwise be lost."

Kel's eyes widened steadily as he spoke. "But you were only ignorant because I hadn't explained what I feared would happen to the children."

"And you think I would have heeded you?" He shook his head. "I should like to believe I would have listened carefully, but if the Chamber hadn't made its appearance last night I'm not sure I'd believe you now, though I know you don't lie. And that too is an aspect of the problem, Keladry, because the politics of your knighthood as a woman would have been at work." He tapped fingers on his desk, slowly, brow furrowed. "It is unjust and unwise, but also an effect of your unique position, and will ease as more women undergo their ordeals. Did you know there will be three more female pages starting in the autumn?"

Her startlement showed, to Lord Wyldon's evident amusement.

"You shouldn't be so surprised—it's largely your doing. You must have known people were watching you closely, and heard them at the tilts on that never-ending Progress."

"Well, yes, but I didn't expect …"

"Anyone but your close friends to approve your example? Including the King and Padraig haMinch?" He shook his head again. "I can't blame you. Mithros knows we've given you little reason to expect more of us." His fingers drummed again. "We cannot deal with all of that today, but I suggest you consider carefully—from a military as well as political angle—that those nobles who are called or call themselves conservative are of very different kinds. There are those for whom pride of blood is overriding, as for Stone Mountain and his son. That kind may serve in the army or the Own, but under His Majesty you will not find them commanding. Glaisdan of Haryse was the last and you know what happened to him, Black God rest his soul." He made the circle on

his chest. "Then there are traditionalists like myself and Vanget, who believe crown service is an essential discipline and dislike change for the sake of change, when we see no need. But when change proves itself or we do see a practical need we are at heart realists and accept it. Yes?"

Captivated, she nodded.

"So. Your mistake was to confuse what the first might say with what the second would do. Vanget as much as I doubted your fitness for knight training when you began, and we would both prefer a world in which women did not have to fight at all, let alone train for knighthood. But we're not likely to get it and neither of us now doubts your exceptional competence as a knight and commander. Nor do men like His Grace of Naxen and my Lord of Legann, who have followed your progress carefully and drawn their own conclusions."

It seemed to be Kel's day for blushing uncontrollably and she looked down again. Lord Wyldon sighed softly.

"Goldenlake said you'd need it spelling out. Keladry, Haven may be a refugee camp rather than a fort, but it is a full command. When you and the other pages ran into those bandits, what qualities did the others show? And what are their current appointments? Put it together. You are the only commander of your generation anywhere and if you live you'll replace Goldenlake at the Own within a decade. Come to that, next time the Scanrans decide they want a war you might well be in Vanget's shoes. Don't look at me like that—it's no more than truth."

Kel found herself beyond embarrassment, or perhaps just no longer concerned with it as she strove to digest his astonishing words. It was true Raoul had always implied she'd command but she'd never entirely believed him, thinking neither knights nor soldiers would accept a girl in authority. But enough was enough, her tongue had at last unfrozen, and she met his gaze.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but if I didn't believe command at Haven was quite the same as command at Mastiff or Steadfast, I had reason. You have eight companies. I had four squads. You have a double wall reaching thirty feet, with earthworks and abatis. I had a single palisade that struggled to reach fifteen. You have a score of battle-mages. I had one healer. And while I realised that under regulations I was technically senior to anyone in the district other than yourself or my Lord of Goldenlake, there was nothing to suggest anyone took that seriously."

He surprised her again with what she could only call a grin.

"Better, Mindelan. Much better. And you're right on all counts—we did not sufficiently consider Maggur's tactics when Haven was built and staffed, and the fact you were sent straight there prevented me from integrating you properly into the command structure, as I would had you been here. But we shan't be making the same mistakes again, and these new spellmirrors of Numair's are a great boon."

She'd thought as much when she first saw one the night before, and nodded. "I wondered if they were Master Numair's work."

"A Carthaki spell he adapted, he says. I'll make sure you get one."

As she had passed beyond embarrassment Kel found herself beyond surprise, and raised her eyebrows in query. Lord Wyldon grinned again.

"Better still. Yes, you remain in your command. Now"—he gestured to the district map on the wall—"despite that prophecy there's nowhere we can put refugees except the Greenwoods valley. Anak's Eyrie is deserted and we can't hope to get anyone back there at least until Giantkiller is rebuilt. Riversedge and Bearsford have taken in everyone they can support, and

Tirrsmont won't even take his own." He scowled. "So the Greenwoods it must be."

Kel nodded shortly. She didn't like the logic and bitterly resented the selfish arrogance of the lord of Tirrsmont, father of the knight who'd tried to kill her in a joust, whose only concern with the death and displacement of hundreds of his liegefolk was his loss of tithes. The young lord of Anak's Eyrie had died defending his exposed fief, leaving no heir, so he deserved no blame, but she knew the refugees were barred from the south only by nobles who wanted no trouble or expense. She watched as Lord Wyldon carefully steepled his fingers.

"With the death of Blayce the situation changes somewhat. We no longer have reason to fear a raid of the kind Stenmun led, but do have reason to fear attacks targeted specifically on you and your people. Giantkiller will be enlarged, and as many additional companies as we can find stationed there, to screen you. But Haven must be rebuilt with far better defences. Tell me, how much have you studied fortification and defensive works? You know some of the terms."

Kel managed a shrug with her good shoulder. "Nothing formal, my Lord, beyond page-classes, but Lord Raoul had me study anywhere the Own took us. We talked about what we saw and I read military history when I have the chance."

"Fair enough. And you did a good, job improvising at Haven with those stones, but you might look at this." He slid a small dog-eared book towards her. "Orchan of Eridui. He wasn't very original but he is clear, and he had an idea or two worth knowing about mageblasts. In any case, you've fought behind walls enough to know what works and what's only for show. And this time you'll have proper resources to work with."

"I will?"

"Yes. On Vanget's orders Haven is to be rebuilt as a true fort, and he'll be sending the eastern building team to join our own. So your first job, when you're recovered and Numair can get here, is to choose a site and get started. You'll have any refugees who are able and willing, and we'll supply guards and a commissariat until you can get kitchens running behind decent walls. In the longer run, though, there'll be limits on the soldiers I can give you, especially with Giantkiller to man as well."

"I understand, my Lord." And while she didn't like this logic any more than the other she did understand. Though a smaller country with fewer people, Scanra's fighting strength represented far more of its total population than Tortall's, and she knew from her years in the Own that recruitment to Crown forces was a constant struggle. Tortall had taken heavy casualties only a decade ago during the Immortals War, with all too many places still underpopulated and making good damage sustained. And in this war the killing devices had already taken an appalling toll. But it wasn't just soldiers as such who mattered. "About how many should I expect to have?"

She saw Wyldon review numbers in his head. "A company, in addition to Connac's squad and the convict soldiers you already have. Perhaps more, but if so they'll be convicts too. Given the likely length of your perimeter you'll still need refugees to help man the walls, but that'll give you a genuine force to put in the field at need."

Kel's eyes widened, then narrowed. "A regular company?"

"Maybe. More likely scratch."

"So no company staff."

He frowned. "Probably not. Why?"

"Mages. And clerks"

"Ah. Clerks I can manage but mages are a problem. We've been badly stretched, magically, by the killing devices. We're not sure if they actually targeted mages or if it was just that mages felt they had to try to fight them first. Either way, our mage numbers are down."

"So are the enemy's, by one at least." Kel's voice was edged and it was his turn to look surprised. "I want at least one mage, my Lord. One decent battlemage, with enough juice to blast anyone he's likely to encounter. Or we'll be nicely penned-in ducks when any Scanran party that does have a mage worth his feed turns up."

He rubbed his forehead in that characteristic gesture. "If we think you're likely to be targeted at least once, we can hardly suppose Maggur would not send such a mage against you. Very well. Haven will have first claim on any mage I can get."

Something snapped in the back of Kel's mind. "Forgive me, my Lord, but you already have dozens. So do Lord Raoul and General Vanget." Her mask was already so far off she laid it aside and locked eyes, passion pouring into her voice. "Do you know what I was thinking when you rode off and left me to bury my dead at Haven? That your Company Eight with one hundred well-armed men had mages who could hold four killing devices at once. And that my five hundred half-trained civilians had faced six or more of those nightmares with no-one but a healer and a hedgewitch. I believe you said you wouldn't be repeating your mistakes."

He stared, surprise shifting into a thin smile. "You were always a fast learner. And you're right, again. Unless some further threat like the devices enters the field—gods forfend—I can reasonably strip one mage from each company for you." He frowned. "Or, better, take the scratch company here and give you a regular one, mages and all. You'd lose Hollyrose, though. The company second would be in charge of patrols."

Kel thought hard for a moment. "I think Merric would be willing to serve as joint second. He knows he made a mistake at Haven, not believing the sparrows. There wasn't anything he could have done anyway and Goddess knows he did his best after, but that's why he insisted the others take him along, I think. They had to tie him to his horse."

He snorted. "I imagine they did, though that's rich from you."

Kel was very glad she still seemed to be beyond embarrassment. "I wonder where we learned such attitudes, my Lord." His mouth twitched. "But the point is that time as second to someone experienced would be of benefit. Goddess knows I'd prefer it myself. And I'd like to keep Merric, if I may. He's popular with the refugees, too."

"I thought his attitudes towards them were a bit stiff."

Kel did her one-shoulder shrug. "At first, a little. But he was unsure of himself, as we all were. And while he did think Neal and I were a bit soft on commoners he was never like Quinden, or that lord of Tirrsmont. And he soon learned. Everyone did at Haven."

"Very well, then. And that reminds me—you said in your report that before you crossed the Vassa a patrol led by Marti's Hill passed within yards of you and saw nothing. What were their scouts doing?"

"There were none, my Lord." She knew her voice had flattened. "Just Quinden and ten mounted soldiers behind him." She hesitated, but it had been an afternoon for truths. "I didn't really want to mention it. It feels like telling tales. But if we'd been Scanrans he and those men would all be dead, and the men deserve better."

"Quite right." Wyldon looked both annoyed and thoughtful. "And harder to say because you dislike him, I imagine. I'd find it so. But if the fool had no scouts words must be had. He knew Giantkiller had fallen and that he was very much the front line. Is it just arrogance, do you think?"

Even in this conversation Kel was surprised he would ask such a question. "Mostly. He's never thought rules apply to him. But he's also lazy and I'm not sure he's ever realised that cribbing an answer isn't the same as working it out."

Wyldon smiled. "A useful summary. Goldenlake was a good teacher."

"So were you, my Lord."

"Not so much, I think."

"You're wrong."

He stared at her flat denial, but Kel had had a chance to absorb some of the astonishing things he had said to her when this strange conversation started, what felt like hours ago. The memory of the King's words the night before was also burning in her mind—the truths she had heard Wyldon acknowledge five years before, when he resigned as training master, and there were things she wished she had said then.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it, my Lord, and the mistake you made with Joren and Vinson wasn't in what you taught them. It was what you didn't teach them. The tension between us meant it took me longer than it should to realise you credited them with the same honour you have yourself, so it never occurred to you to teach them chivalry as well as combat. But both were honourless."

She smiled crookedly. "All those times we fell down, did you ever wonder about the chivalry of three seniors fighting one junior? Or about the kind of person who bullies not to gain results but because they covet fear as greenly as any stormwing? Of course you didn't. You'd no more do such things yourself than you'd strike a servant or one of the littles. I know he annoys you but Neal has the right words for Joren and Vinson. He says they were lame in their souls as a man is halt in the leg. In the end even the Chamber couldn't fix Joren, but your mistake was one of omission, not commission."

He was still staring, a very strange expression on his face.

"As for myself, I'm not sure. You and the King are right about how I was thinking but I need time to know if I agree about why I do that." She hesitated. "I don't deny the attitudes I faced played a part. But I fear it goes deeper." Even today, in this conversation, she wasn't about to tell him she thought the open contempt of some of her sisters and in-laws for her shape and ambitions had sunk barbs in her as deeply as the bullying assault by her brother that birthed her fear of heights. "And I did not fear you would act in prejudice, my Lord, only that you would have to act in duty."

His glance was penetrating. "I am glad to know it. But you did fear the King would act in expedience, hmm?"

She faced it squarely. "Yes. I don't like him, not that that matters. But I don't trust him either. "

"Nor should you, altogether. He is a king, and does as he must."

"I know."

"And yet you will find with closer knowledge that he is as loyal as you to those he counts friends and allies." Suddenly he waved a hand. "But all this can be boiled down to something much simpler—the law of success. Had you dragged in here a failure with a casualty roll and no refugees, or been captured and given information, your fears might not have been altogether foolish though I would have preferred no charge. But success changes everything." His thin smile returned. "Which is the story of your career, so perhaps you should just keep doing it." He leaned back. "Now, I have things I must do and you should go see your refugees. They were concerned to hear you were in the infirmary and will appreciate some reassurances."

"Of course, my Lord. May I tell them about rebuilding?"

"By all means." He hesitated before continuing stiffly. "And there is one more thing. I have several times used your personal name but you have not presumed on mine. I would be honoured if in private you would do so."

Yet again Kel caught her jaw from dropping by a whisker and spoke in shock. "But you don't even call Lord Raoul anything but Goldenlake."

"We are colleagues, not friends. But you and I …" He swallowed, and looked her in the eye. "I once said I spoke to you as my daughter. That was an impertinence, however sincere. But I will say plainly I have taught no-one I more admire, and given how we have spoken together today …"

I am a lake. I am calm. Kel didn't need the second ellipsis from a man whose speech was always resoundingly crisp to know how embarrassed he was. How vulnerable. Who would have imagined that? Slowly she stood, gathering herself before offering her good hand.

"The honour is mine, Wyldon."

He took it.

A minute later Kel found herself once more standing scarlet-faced in the parade ground, holding Orchan of Eridui and aware of sentries contenting themselves glancing at her from the corners of their eyes. After depositing Orchan in her rooms, where she found her armour and travel pack, all clean, she wandered to the refugee barracks, then out to the tents below the walls, letting inner turmoil fade into the warmth of adults and excited hugs of children, answering endless questions about her sling. Jump and Nari found her there and she endured the peeps of the sparrow's scolding as she tucked herself onto Kel's good shoulder.

Sensing some signs of the haunting nightmares she knew so well, and mindful of Neal's warning, she gathered Fanche, Saefas, and Olka Valestone into quiet conversation. Neal's analogy with draining a wound met with sharp nods, and other adults were drawn in. Relieved, Kel also spread word of the rebuilding, asking for opinions about the site, and promptly gained a volley of ideas that added up to higher walls, concern about what would happen to the ruins of Haven, and the need to keep as much of the valley's arable land as possible.

Returning towards the gate, Nari on her shoulder and Jump at her heels, she met Owen, Merric, and Seaver heading the other way. Exchanging hugs she gathered Faleron had already returned to duty, Merric had at last completed his report, and Owen had not been blamed by Wyldon for the death of Happy nor (after stern words) for following Kel, and had begun to forgive himself. She also heard a mixed account of the knights' tense but uneventful return with the adults, and was delighted to realise they were on their way to check on refugees they had come to know in the peculiar intimacy of that journey. Owen, similarly, was off to see some

children he said reminded him of his little brother, killed by bandits with his mother.

"It's sad," he remarked. "Odd, but nice too. And I do think they were brave."

Smiling Kel bade them farewell and went in search of Lord Raoul. Her progress was delayed by encounters with a respectful Sergeant Connac, who managed to convey enthusiasm at remaining under her command and greeted Jump handsomely, and then with Neal, who suspiciously felt her forehead and pulse before beginning to mutter about teas. She was tempted to tell him what had passed between her and Wyldon but reserved the pleasure and made her escape by directing him to a nasty suspicion of a sniffle in one of the younglings. Finally she was able to slip behind the command building to the guest quarters for visiting officers, and knock softly on Raoul's door.

She was in luck and he contemplated her with a grin. "Come in, Kel. I was hoping to see you. I'm back to Steadfast in the morning. Dom and his lads too, I'm afraid. Juice?"

With it he bought a strip of jerky for Jump and a handful of seed for Nari, and they talked easily for a while, about the 'little army' of Maggur's that Raoul's and Wyldon's men had smashed and the fight at Rathhausak. He quizzed her hard for a moment about how she'd used the forces available to her, then blew out a breath.

"Hag's bones, Kel. You've a spine of steel as well as the luck of the gods. What you needed was blazebalm for the barracks."

"I know, but I'm actually glad we had none. Neal would have had to set it off, and I'd as soon not leave him with that kind of nightmare. It's bad enough with spidrens." She shuddered at those memories.

"Point. But it's better than being killed." He sat forward. "Kel, I know I believe in whittling down odds, and you did it magnificently. But gods! Twenty-nine to rescue two hundred children and fight one-hundred-and-fifty experienced men? It was a desperation throw."

Kel nodded. "It was that or give up and go home. And if I can't take a joke I shouldn't have joined."

He laughed at the old saw. "Right you are. And a knight's life is all cheer and glory." She laughed back, then gathered herself. "May I ask you something, my Lord?"

He scowled hugely. "Of course you may. And what's all this my-lording? If I've told you once I'm just Raoul, I've told you a hundred times. And why in Mithros's name are you blushing like that?"

Hesitantly Kel explained that she found herself on first-name terms with Wyldon, and after a moment he collapsed into his chair with a long whistle followed by a guffaw.

"Kel, that's … superb. I always knew he was a decent old stick, even when I wanted to brain him for sheer stubbornness. You join a very select band. Even Jon feels it's a liberty to omit the man's title."

Kel gathered herself. "Actually it was the king I wanted to ask about." "Oh yes? You're blushing again. Out with it."

She retreated into a fragile dignity. "I realise there's nothing to be done about appearing before his Majesty in very little except breeches and a breastband."

Raoul's eyes twinkled. "It was rather spectacular. But if you will refuse healings when you need 'em …"

"I know, and if I didn't Neal has already reminded me." "I bet he has. Baird was quite agitated."

"Yes, yes. Healers!" Raoul grinned unrepentantly. "But what I wanted to ask was if the King was angry."

"Angry? About seeing you receive treatment you needed?"

"No. About what I said."

"Which bit?"

She glared at him. "To Blayce's corpse."

"Oh, that. Gods, no. It goosed him magnificently and his face was a picture, but he won't be angry. We didn't discuss it but I'll bet you he was impressed, and devoutly glad you did spare him the temptation. As kings go Jon's really not that touchy, especially when people hand him great big surprise presents." He grinned at her. "Kel, I don't recommend you try shouting at him the way Alanna and I do. Gary too, sometimes, and Thayet often. We were all young together, and it's different. But Jon's got pretty good truthsense, and he won't punish anyone for honest words loyally spoken. All else aside, he knows it doesn't pay. And nothing you said to his face, nor in that weird vision, was anything but true and loyal." He raised his glass to her. "Nice move with Stenmun, by the way. I hadn't really thought about using a glaive like that, for all it's a move in one of your dances."

Accepted his assurance, she took the lighter gambit gratefully and they fell back into chat for a moment, before she rose and thanked him.

"Anytime, Kel."

Parting, she couldn't resist telling him that Meech had christened him 'the big curly man' and Tobe said he made a pair with the Storkman.

"The Storkman?"

"Master Numair. It's what Daine's pony calls him, apparently."

"Cloud?" He guffawed again. "That's a hoot. I wonder if Buri knows. And I'm happy to be big and curly for Meech. He's the little boy whose doll's yarn you followed?"

"That's right. I've promised to get him a new one. I thought Lalasa would have some nice red wool."

He ruffled her hair. "You're a treasure, Kel. And your report's a classic. If you don't see them I'll give Dom and the others your best. And there's the wedding at Steadfast next month, of course—you won't be missing that. Now, go find some food and then your bed."

Comforted by his simple friendship, she went.


	5. Chapter 3

Surveying

Chapter Three — Surveying

20 June – 2 July

It was four days before Kel was allowed to leave off her sling. With the distraction of Samradh ceremonies and her unmarked birthday past she tried to invent a pattern dance using only her good shoulder—an exercise watched by soldiers with caution and Baird with exasperation. When he reluctantly gave permission to work her shoulder again, he was healer-blunt.

"Keladry, the axe-point hit your shoulder-blade, and the bone really didn't like it. I've speeded healing, but it must finish on its own. Stick to slow exercises for at least a week. No push-ups or pull-ups or anything of that kind for ten days, and no tumbling. Make sure you eat well too —meat, milk, cheese—and I should check that bone again in a month or so."

She obeyed, knowing she'd be a fool to abuse the luck she'd had in both Queenscove healers but disliking the limitation intently before deciding it was a useful challenge. With her refugees in Mastiff's charge she had little to do administratively, though she spent time every day with the children and usually ate with the adults; Peachblossom and Hoshi enjoyed extended grooming and Jump was thoroughly washed, to the sparrows' amusement. Once both Kel's arms were again her own she scrounged swords and spears from the fort's armourer and restarted training sessions for the refugees, Tortallans, Scanrans, adults, and children alike, which led to another, less welcome lesson for herself.

At Haven the scorn of army regulars for her egalitarian approach had been tempered by respect for results; here soldiers seemed to expect to see her training civilians at arms; nor was a single voice raised to protest training Scanrans. Sergeants and corporals, Connac among them, went out of their way to help, demonstrating exercises to those having difficulty and cutting down spears for younger children. Connac had been her first real supporter in training them beside the adults, approving the deadly seriousness with which even under-tens practiced staff and spearwork, and she sought him out to thank him for whatever magic he'd worked on her behalf here. Smiling, he shook his head.

"Oh, when I've been asked I've said what I saw, Lady Kel, and they heard me well enough. But it's not me you've to thank. You put yourself on the line for your people, army and civilian alike, when war sold 'em down the river. That goes a long way with us." He shrugged. "It's a lot of why I came with you. Someone had to. And word's out it was you that stopped the killing devices when you rescued the children and killed that mage, so there's not a man here who hasn't thanked Mithros and the Black God both for blessing us with you."

He paused thoughtfully, sucking his teeth.

"And begging your pardon, my Lady, but you're like my Lord of Goldenlake with those lads of his. Plenty of fun with hard work but no nonsense when it counts, and never any needless temper or injustice." He shrugged. "The lads here like you, they respect you, and they're very thankful to you. I couldn't stop 'em helping you if I tried. And if you want anything else doing, you've only to say."

Back in her room, once again red-faced, she decided she was tired of such embarrassments. It struck her that the Lioness must have had a similar problem becoming famous

and she smiled at the thought of the things Sir Alanna might have said before realising she'd just compared herself with the age's greatest heroine, and blushing again. Thoroughly irritated with herself she tucked Orchan of Eridui under her arm and took herself off to a quiet corner of the kitchen garden.

After working steadily through the short treatise she decided Wyldon had been exactly right. She hadn't really learned anything new save a few words, but the principles of defensive fortification were now clear in her mind. An enemy's approach was made difficult and exhausting with slopes, ditches, and obstacles. The abatis protected the base of the outer wall and if an enemy did surmount it, using ladders, the gap between the walls was a killing field for well-armed defenders on the alure of the inner wall. Short of warmagery or siege engines, the danger was hinged ladders or planks that could span the gap from the allering of the outer wall to the parapet of the inner, but unless the alure were seriously undermanned, attackers would have to be prepared to spend blood like water. Most weren't, and successful attacks almost always breached the one inevitable weak-point in any enclosing wall.

Her memory of shattered, gaping gates at Giantkiller and Haven underlined Orchan's blunt conclusion. After describing the defences a gatehouse barbican should have, from multiple portcullises to traps and positions covering the roadway—a scale of construction even Mastiff lacked—he did devote a couple of pages to ways whereby the approach to a gate might be protected. She read that passage twice but the long and short of it stayed the same, that if a gate were to serve its whole purpose and let your own people in and out, it could be made to admit others. The only thing that struck her was the observation that it was desirable to restrict the level space before a gate, and that when the fortified position was atop a hill the gate-road should turn, narrow, and rise sharply just before reaching it. A trap in the roadway itself might be possible, she supposed, wondering how deep a pit would have to be to be effective. There had been another mention of mageblasts in an earlier chapter, about ladderwork, and she flipped back to find it.

The siege of Rostholm in 118 is famous as a successful escalade, but if the assailants were bold and well equipped, with surprise on their side, Lord Grogar had placed overmuch faith in the height of his walls and paid dearly for undermanned alures. A more interesting lesson is that the smaller castle at Graverran did not fall, though assaulted by another division of haMinch's army on the same night, using the same method. Its commander, Grogar's elder son but cut from another cloth, had filled large nets (to which mageblasts were attached) with rocks, and suspended them below every second merlon of his outer parapets. When the attempted escalade began the alert duty commander fired the mageblasts, and the resulting rockfalls smashed most ladders and inflicted considerable casualties on troops clustered around them. The fallen rocks proved awkward obstacles to any further escalade, and after desultory exchanges the surviving haMinchi forces, learning their fellows had taken Rostholm, withdrew in search of easier pickings.

Kel vaguely recalled the more enterprising younger Grogar coming to an unfortunate end of some kind, but she very much liked his rocks. At Haven she had used nets against killing devices but hadn't considered their use as passive weapons, holding something back until need arose. And such passivity, she thought with rising excitement, might be applied more widely. She and a score of men had spent a back-breaking morning making safe a pile of rocks fallen from crags on the valley's western side that had threatened the field below—but if a mage were available for heavy lifting, and rockpiles rested on cradles mined with mageblasts, she could put lethal traps in many places. Roads might be blocked as well as places to stand ladders. And much as she hated the stuff she was going to have to lay hands on blazebalm too, for one good thing about ladders was that they burned. The problem would be making sure you didn't set fire to your outer wall. Energised, she trotted back towards her room, but crossing the parade ground heard herself hailed by Owen.

"Kel, I was looking for you. Master Numair's here." Coming up to her he grinned. "I know you want to be doing but don't get too excited. He can't go to the Greenwoods until the day after tomorrow because he's making spellmirrors, but the Wildmage should be here by then, too." He leaned in confidentially. "She's at Anak's Eyrie, negotiating with a spidren. Can you believe it?"

Kel stared astonishment. Spidrens didn't negotiate or come in good and bad flavours, like so many immortals. But their babies scream when we burn them. She choked down the thought: little spidrens meant big spidrens and all spidrens were bad.

"I know. But it's interesting, I suppose. Different, anyway. Oh, and Master Numair wants to see you as soon as you like." He brightened. "There's a slap-up meal tonight, with that boar that was silly enough to charge Seaver yesterday. We're all invited."

"Who's we?"

"We heroes of the Great Rescue. Isn't it jolly?" At her horrified expression his face fell. "What's wrong?"

"Are you seriously telling me this dinner is for us, Owen?"

"Well of course it is." A light came into his eye. "Don't tell me you haven't seen it, Kel? You wrote it."

"I wrote what? Owen, if you don't explain yourself very clearly right now, I shall feed you to Peachblossom."

"The King has published your report, Kel." His enthusiasm returned full-bore. "You write beautifully, you know. My Lord had me post a copy on the general noticeboard. He says it's being proclaimed in Corus and right along the border."

"Oh." Kel felt hollow. She was impressed that the tactic she'd suggested had been put into effect so soon, but it hadn't occurred to her that King Jonathan would not write his own version of events but simply publish hers. She swallowed.

"Don't you want to be a hero, Kel? Heroine, I mean." "Not really."

"Too late." He patted her shoulder. "You'll get used to it." He frowned. "Actually, you should be already because you've always been one. It's the rest of us who ought to be surprised. And we are!"

His logic baffled her and she looked at him warily. "You are?"

"Yes. I mean, I knew we'd all done a good thing, and that was jolly. But I didn't expect you'd say such nice things about us all, or that they'd be proclaimed like this. And you mentioned Happy! He's famous too. I wanted to thank you for that."

She'd written her report hoping to protect her friends and cringed at the thought of Neal— and Dom—reading her praises of them. But her mind's eye offered a vision of Lord Raoul laughingly calling her report a classic and she heard his bad-man's voice observing to a dubious squire that reports were meant to be read, and you never did know what might be done with them. Uncertainly she smiled at Owen.

"I just said what was true, you know."

"No you didn't, Mother. You left out everything bad and polished up the good till we all gleamed like armour. The only person you didn't mention besides the smugglers was yourself, but I think the King's taken care of that because the whole thing's headed, now let me get this right, The report of Lady Knight Commander Keladry of Mindelan on her successful mission to rescue Tortallan civilians and children abducted by the Scanran Kinslayer and to end the evil work of Maggur's necromancer. I think that's it. And your signature's at the bottom— Keladry of Mindelan, Lady Knight Commander. The casualty roll's been posted too, just as you recorded it."

Appalled, she stalked across the parade ground to the offending noticeboard only to find Owen had been word perfect, though she saw with relief that her mention of Quinden's idiocy had been deleted. Owen stood grinning when she finally turned from the absurd display, and a circle of solemn soldiers stood watching them both. Their clapping the other day had been for rescuing the children, but now the demand they represented was palpable and she couldn't pretend she didn't understand why they hungered for the success and safety she'd been made to represent. Mama and Papa will read that report. And Anders, Inness, Conal. Actually, that thought left her feeling rather warm. Meeting her sisters-in-law again would also find her with a new advantage: not many cows were heroines, after all; nor lumps. And if she was honest, once she'd had the chance to think about the astonishing things Wyldon had said about her command abilities, she'd been far more gratified then embarrassed. Suddenly confident, she raised an eyebrow at the soldiers.

"You do realise that thing's been polished like your parade kit? In the doing it was all mud and luck."

After some glances a grizzled veteran made himself spokesman. "We knows that, Lady Knight Commander sir. But you still got the littles back, and you got the mage what was killin' us."

She found herself thinking rapidly and clearly. "Lady Kel's fine, soldier, unless some stickler's around. Lord Raoul trained me and I don't stand on ceremony." The lord of Goldenlake's dislike of noble pomp was widely known and grins flickered. "But yes, we got the littles back, and by the gods' grace we got the mage and the Kinslayer. A nightmare and his dog, sent where they belonged. But I'll tell you something."

They leaned in, intent on her.

"That mage was a pimply mouse of a man. He killed hundreds and hurt us all, but to me he was the Nothing Man. Stenmun Kinslayer was evil right through. He liked to have men skinned and stole children for gold, but he wasn't a coward. The mage was and I've been hoping the Black God's judges have been thinking about that. But what matters is that he was more an illusion than anything else."

The soldier frowned. "Them killin' devices was real , Lady Kel."

"Yes, they were. But though they scared the wits out of us all and could chop up anyone in range, one good crossbow -bolt in the dome and they were done. You can't do that to a giant or the kraken. What I'm saying is their weapon was more their terror than their knives. When all's said and done they were dead children who just wanted to stop hurting. And once you got through that, there was only a greasy fool with bad breath and spots who got his head cut off by a girl."

There was a second's silence followed by a roar of laughter and when Kel walked straight at them they parted easily, grinning among themselves. Owen fell in behind, chortling admiringly and reminding her Master Numair wanted to talk before he peeled off for the command building and left Kel to make her way to the guest quarters. She found Numair reading, long legs stretched

out and half-unpacked saddlebags piled on the bed. Seeing he was oblivious she rapped gently on the door.

"You wanted to see me, Master Numair?"

"Keladry, come in." He folded away papers and stood, inspecting her gravely. "I heard you were wounded. How are you now?"

"Much improved, thank you."

"Good. And my heartfelt thanks for killing Blayce. Jonathan described what he'd seen in your vision—that sounds so odd—and it was everything I'd feared. Gods! What a horror necromancy is. Please, sit."

When she had settled he regarded her curiously. "It's the behaviour of the Chamber that has the King exercised, of course, and this girl Irnai. I must meet her, but for now would you just tell me, please, about everything you've experienced with that elemental. Oh, except your Ordeal, of course."

"Alright." She hesitated, delaying. "I don't really understand what elementals are."

He thought for a moment. "I think the best description is that they're organised wild magic. But how organised is … variable. Some are older than most gods and very complex beings indeed, like Chitral, who made the Dominion Jewel and chose to give it to Alanna. Others aren't much more than emergent patterns." He frowned. "I had believed our Chamber was somewhere in the middle but given what it's been up to I begin to think it's of the older, more complex kind. And plainly in contact with the Great Gods, as Chitral must have been, which complicates everything, always. But tell me your story, please."

Reluctantly she began. Despite knowing they'd been only nightmare visions she found it shockingly hard to expose the deep fears the Chamber always found to trade on, but she trusted Master Numair and tried conscientiously to include all her experiences of touching the chamber-door. He was interested in the first occasion she'd thought it had spoken to her, breathing amusement at her repeated self-testing, and seemed especially struck by her haunting experience after Joren's trial, and how the Chamber had worked her feelings about Lalasa's legal vulnerability into a scenario whose terror was as much political as visceral. She ended with her repeated dreams of Blayce's workshop and what she'd seen and heard at Rathhausak, including the Chamber's grumpiness over her dislike of the name it had given her and her belief it had been teasing her in choosing where it stopped its spectacular display during her debriefing. Numair grinned.

"You're probably right. Alanna certainly thinks Chitral has a warped sense of humour. I tend to find that more reassuring than upsetting, though many wouldn't. Still, that's some story of yours." He pondered. "Do other squires touch its door as you did?"

"I always thought so. There was a lot of joshing among pages about the tradition that says it's bad luck if they do, and what I thought was an unspoken expectation that once one became a squire, one should. But when I told Neal he said I was mad and no-one else did."

"Mmm. So probably some do, but if the experiences are typically as they were for you, deep fears forcibly played out, those people would not say anything much afterwards."

She nodded, pleased that he understood. "That's what I decided. It must be the same sort of thing for everyone—friends and family being killed, being helpless to stop it—and I certainly didn't want to talk about it to anyone."

"I'm sure you didn't. But it sounds as if your, um, persistence is unusual and the Chamber did, perhaps as a result, take special notice. So I'm afraid I must ask why you kept having it subject you to nightmares?"

She stared at him, then shrugged. "Don't you want to have a feel for a mage you're going to have to fight?"

"Fair enough. Was it only that?"

"Well, no." She thought about it, and amid new things crowding her head realised something. "You have to understand, Master Numair, I faced a lot of disapproval. Even before I started as a page, in my own family, harsh things were said. Once I was at the palace there was Lord Wyldon's probation and open dislike, as well as Joren and his gang. And when we started serving at banquets there were court ladies, and guests who refused to have me serve them, or sniffed and said I should be ashamed of myself, not for doing anything wrong but just because I was a girl." The memories were vivid. "The only thing I had to set against all that was that the Chamber alone bestows knighthood and it passed women until a century back, as well as Sir Alanna." She took a deep breath. "I wanted to touch the door as soon as I became a page but I knew of the tradition from my brothers and respected it. But once I was a squire nothing would have stopped me. If the Chamber thought I wasn't worthy I had to know."

The mage was regarding her with a compassionate look that made her want to cry, and she stilled herself.

"That makes good sense, Keladry. And I'm sorry you had such a miserable time with bigots. Believe me, I understand that." Thin fingers tapped. "But it's clear the Chamber chose you for exactly the reasons you've done so astoundingly well. The problem is that it's still not clear when it chose you and Jon seems to feel he needs to know."

"Then why doesn't he ask?"

"Eh? Ask what?"

"The Chamber." Numair gaped and a thought crystallised. "I just realised that when I was reporting to him and the others, they thought re-entering the Chamber was like undergoing another Ordeal. When it spoke through Irnai they all went white, as if they were being tested."

Numair had caught up and was nodding. "Because they've only ever had contact with the elemental during their Ordeals."

"Yes. But talking to it isn't like that at all and its whole purpose is to serve Tortall. If the King's truly worried about what it's doing I can't believe it wouldn't speak to him about it. And there'd be no point in it giving him another Ordeal anyway—he passed its test years ago. So he should just go inside it and ask."

Slowly Numair smiled. "I shall tell him so, Keladry. His reply should be entertaining. And perhaps I'll ask it myself about Shakith."

"And Lord Gainel, it said."

He grinned. "Yes, but I've met Gainel myself at my in-laws'." Kel was well repaid for leaving him nonplussed a minute before and he chuckled at her expression. "I know. I still don't always believe it myself but it comes with my Godborn magelet, bless her. She should be here tomorrow, by the way."

"So Owen said. I was hoping to see her. She's always been so kind to me." Numair beamed. She wondered if Owen shouldn't have mentioned it, but curiosity won. "Is she really negotiating with a spidren?"

He didn't seem surprised she knew and nodded. "She is. It contacted her father at Samradh, when the barriers are thin, and he sent the Badger to convey its message." Kel looked a query. "The male badger god. He's a friend of Daine's and Weiryn's."

"Oh." She blinked away surprise at how intimate he seemed with all manner of gods. "I meant, what was the message?"

"So far as we can tell, that it wants to make a treaty, as we do with other immortals, and have someplace safe to live. Otherwise we know only that its name is Quenuresh, that it leads a small family group and must be a mage of some degree, and that Weiryn says it's very old for its kind, though as it's an immortal what that means is itself a mystery."

"There are spidren mages?" Kel was horrified.

"A few. Their webs are intrinsically magical and that's usually it, thank Mithros, but not always."

"Are you worried it's a trap?"

He shook his head. "No more than usual. Daine can defend herself against most things, she has an army escort, and the Badger promised to be there. It's more than she often has." He sighed and stood, bringing Kel to her feet. "Can you take me to meet Irnai now?"

"Of course."

Passing her own room Kel stopped in to leave Orchan of Eridui, and found Tobe feeding sparrows. On his advice she and Master Numair then headed for the cookhouse, where as promised Irnai was helping to peel vegetables and listening to cooks' gossip. Besides the innate attraction of food for a child who'd gone hungry for months, Kel had noticed on their journey that Irnai sought out mundane tasks, and thought it was probably a combination of repeatedly having to win acceptance from strangers and needing something more regular in her life than splinters of divine vision. She cheerfully came and sat with them at an empty table, holding Kel's hand and answering questions straightforwardly, but to Kel's mind there was nothing useful they didn't already know. The only surprising thing was that while Irnai remembered all the Chamber had said, and even with eyes closed had seen the visions it projected through her, she had no memory of the words she'd spoken as Shakith gripped her and refused to hear what they were.

"The god told me if I don't remember what I've said it's best I don't know. It won't affect me, and it's for others to worry about."

Accepting this, Numair asked a few more questions about reactions to her prophecies, and let her return to the vegetables. Back outside he complimented Kel warmly on her care of the girl and all the children, before remarking with a frown that the stronger seers were the harder it was to tell anything, but he thought Irnai's connection with Shakith unusually direct and suspected the goddess was actually trying to be helpful, which might or might not be a good thing. By the end his voice had sunk to a murmur and abruptly bidding Kel farewell until the feast in her honour he stalked off, still muttering. Kel was left to contemplate the further embarrassment in store and the need to dress for it.

In the event it wasn't as nerve-racking as she'd feared. She had no gown (and wasn't sure, after Haven's destruction, what if any clothes she had left) so a thorough wash and clean tunic had

to serve. To her pleasure Fanche and Saefas were seated at the high table too, with a beaming Tobe; the messhall below was packed to the rafters with refugees, including children and Scanran villagers, as well as hundreds of soldiers. Seaver's boar proved tender, the vegetables fresh, and the sweets an indulgence leaving her delightfully sated. The only bad moment came when Wyldon ended his remarks following the royal toast by proposing a further toast to their collective valour and she realised she was expected to reply—but even that proved easier than her first address at Haven as commander, and once on her feet she knew what she wanted to say. Carefully smoothing her Mindelan tunic she let her gaze circle, collecting fierce attention.

"My Lord of Cavall is right to say all of us singled out for honour here depended on one another, and I would express my deep gratitude to my friends, and to Sergeants Domitan and Connac and all the soldiers with us, without whom none of it would have been possible. But we all depended also on the men and women of Haven, who did much to rescue themselves, on the villagers of Rathhausak, and in full measure on the children, who endured without complaint more than anyone should ever have to suffer, and showed the greatest courage you can imagine. There were others I cannot name, too, who helped along our way. So my first toast is to all who helped, not just we who are praised."

They drank, cheering, and when she remained standing quieted.

"And there are our dead, at Haven and beyond." The mood sobered. "I think of the captive adults who did all they could to slow the enemy's progress and paid with their lives. Of our comrades and animals who fell at Rathhausak, giving their lives that others might live. And of the many children and adults who died at Blayce's hands, given by their liegelord to a human monster. So in the names of Lord Mithros, and the Goddess, and the Black God, I give you our dead, in honoured memory." She gestured and they stood. "May our lives be worthy of them, in winning this war and in the peace to follow."

"So mote it be."

The unison was thunderous, and she sat to murmurs of approval from her friends and a look from Wyldon that made her feel distinctly strange. Since their peculiar conversation they'd met only in public and their boundaries of friendship remained uncertain, but Kel had found a happiness she couldn't recall growing in her as she absorbed the fact of his admiration for her as knight and commander. As the weight of his disapproval had haunted her training, so the glow of his regard warmed her as she struggled to come to terms with success and burgeoning fame. It was a vast improvement. Aided by the glass of wine she had to drink with the toasts she slept that night more deeply and dreamlessly than at any time since her Ordeal and first vision of pimpled slaughter.

Two days later a beautiful June morning found Kel riding a lively Peachblossom on the familiar courier track towards Haven, Jump in his carry-box and sparrows flitting to-and-fro. Numair rode behind her on the long-suffering Spots, as badly as ever, with Daine on a borrowed horse and behind them the young but assured leader of the western building team, sent from Steadfast to advise. More surprisingly, Daine had Kitten with her, the dragonet having become so bored with her parents' repeated absence from Corus, and so advanced in magic for her age, that Daine felt it riskier to leave her behind than to expose her to hazard in the north. She perched on Daine's horse's withers, peering alertly and occasionally trilling excitement. Soldiers had point and rearguard and a screen surrounded them, but the mages were their defence should they meet any

genuine force that had escaped detection.

Starting at dawn and riding hard despite Numair's complaints they came by late morning to the last ridge before the Greenwoods valley. Here towards its southern end the western hills were rounded and well wooded, criss-crossed with animal trails. The track bent sharply before curling into a gulley and running through trees down to the river, which it accompanied north to Haven; approaching that bend Kel pulled up.

"If no-one objects I'd like to get a view over the whole valley before anything else."

No-one did and the building officer, Geraint of Legann, nodded approval. After letting horses breathe and scouts re-orient themselves Kel led them onto a deertrack angling up the hill. Steady climbing and a scramble where the slope steepened brought them to the crown of the hill, where they dismounted. Then she led them cautiously through the trees, sparrows scouting ahead, and after a few minutes came to the position she remembered, above crags with the sunlit valley spread out below them. As the others emerged from the trees to stand beside her, exclaiming at the view, Kel folded herself to sit cross-legged, back against warm tree-bark and one hand absently tugging Jump's ears in the way he loved. Daine sat beside her, Kitten scrambling into her lap, and the others followed suit, Master Numair letting long legs dangle over the crags and Geraint producing a notebook in which he began to sketch.

To their left the broadening valley descended north-east towards the distant Vassa, until the Greenwoods bent north to skirt intruding, higher hills beyond which lay Tirrsmont, the ruins of Goatstrack, and ill-fated Giantkiller. About three miles from their lookout the blackened rectangle of Haven perched on its artificial knoll above the river, bare flagpole and air of desertion a stark reminder of why they were here. Surrounding it was the best cropland, in the rich valley bottom and on the lower slopes; more good growing and grazing lay immediately below, limited by sheer cliffs on the eastern side, culminating in an outlying root the Grimhold Mountains thrust through the lower hills.

It was this Kel had really wanted to see, and after a general survey though the splendid spyglass Alanna had given her she settled to a careful quartering of the ground. Why the limestone steepened so much on the east she had no idea, but the great fin of darker rock that all but cut off the southernmost third of the valley was another matter altogether. It ended well out on the valley floor in a ragged cliff thirty foot high, leaving a half-mile of open ground bisected by the river foaming down a stretch of rapids, but where the fin cut the eastern cliffs, themselves rising more than four hundred feet, it towered above them. Compared to its base and even to the limestone cliffs, which for nearly a mile to the north rose like a wall from the rich soil, the slope up to the angle of fin and cliffs seemed oddly shallow—because, as Kel half-remembered and her spyglass confirmed, it was filled with an immense screepile. Straggling shrubs made it hard to be sure but she thought the loose stone extended onto the valley floor for a hundred-and-fifty yards or more, and rose at least two hundred feet before tapering to meet the intersecting cliffs. A wide, ragged chimney in the paler limestone and a deep notch in the clifftop above showed where the debris had come from. More importantly, denser vegetation with damp ground below told of a spring beneath the scree and from this height Kel could see a line of greener growth tracing a course towards the Greenwoods. Thoughtfully she let the spyglass drop from her eye and took in the wider view again, letting her hand drift back to Jump's head.

May I look though it, please?

Startled, she turned her head to meet Kitten's slit-pupilled eyes. Behind the dragonet Daine seemed amused.

"Did she talk to you? I expect she wants to use the spyglass."

Swallowing surprise, Kel offered Kitten the brass tube. "Of course you can, ah—"

Skysong is my true name, but I don't mind if you call me Kitten, as Mama does.

"Skysong. Right, I knew that. I'm sorry I forgot. Please be careful with the glass."

I will. Thank you. What should I call you?

"Um, Keladry. Or Kel's fine."

Thank you, Kel.

The dragonet set the spyglass gently to her eye, whistling pleasure, and seeing that she clearly knew how to twist the eyepiece to focus Kel let her eyes meet Daine's, alight with laughter.

"When did this happen? She couldn't talk before, could she?"

"Well, she could, actually, but not to us two-leggers. She was too young, so far as we knew, to mindspeak between the kinds as adult dragons do, and fair frustrating we all found it." The Wildmage grinned at the memory. "But when we were in Carthak for Kalassin's wedding she found Kawit, who gave her one of her scales to eat, and Kit's been chattering non-stop ever since, making up for lost time. She still finds it hard to speak to more than one two-legger at once, though, so others won't necessarily hear what you do. It can make conversations a bit awkward." A chirp told them the dragonet was listening and Daine reached to stroke her flank. "I know, Kit, but you're doing very well." Her smoky blue-grey eyes came back to Kel's. "She's cautious with strangers, having discovered the hard way that not everyone likes a talking and very inquisitive dragon, so she must trust you."

"Oh." Kel felt absurdly pleased. "Perhaps she remembers me from the palace. I did meet her once, when I first brought you Jump." Hearing his name the dog thumped his tail.

Yes, I remember. You knelt to greet me. I always remember kindness. Kitten took the spyglass from her eye and swivelled her snout to look up at Kel. What were you looking at so carefully?

"I was wondering if we might be able to use the angle of the cliffs and that great fin. It would mean we'd only have two walls to defend."

The fallen rocks are in the way.

"They could be moved." Kel shrugged. "I don't really know what's possible, but I've seen Master Numair shift tons of boulders at once, and I was wondering what's under those rocks. Do you see the greener vegetation leading to the river? There's a spring in there, and above the scree the cliffs rise sheer, so perhaps they're like that right along."

Kitten chirped and took up the spyglass, peering at screeslope and the cliffs to either side before again looking at Kel.

The black cliff is very strong rock, so that is probably right. She sounded thoughtful. There is a dragonspell that would tell me what is hidden under the fall, but I could not cast it powerfully enough for a pile of rocks that big.

Daine heard this and looked at Kitten consideringly. "You're always good with rocks, Kit. Numair might be able to boost you. Tell him about the spell you mean?"

With a cluck of agreement the dragonet carefully handed the spyglass back to Kel and trotted over to Numair, whistling and tugging at his sleeve. He listened carefully before glancing across at Kel.

"She says you want to know what's under all that scree?"

Kel nodded. "I wondered if the cliffs were sheer all the way down, Master Numair. I may be dreaming the impossible, but if they are, and that scree pile could be shifted forward and levelled out …"

"Mmm." His eyes lost focus for a minute. "There's no problem moving the rocks, but I don't think they'd be stable enough to build on."

"Can we look anyway? I realise you could raise another knoll, as before, but I want to keep as much good land as possible for planting. So do the refugees. We need all the food we can grow. And if we were backed against the cliffs we'd only have two sides to defend."

Beyond Numair Geraint nodded. "I like your thinking, my Lady, but Master Numair is right. Loose scree like that can be used as filler, or for a glacis, say, but it won't take post-holes or foundations."

Kitten again tugged at Numair's sleeve, and a look of surprise crossed his face.

"That's true, Kit. Good thinking." He glanced at Geraint, then looked round at Kel. "She reminds me basilisks can do all sorts of things with stone—it's their native element—and as it happens Tkaa isn't far away."

"He isn't?" The basilisk courtier-diplomat had taught Kel as a page, and if having a seven-foot-tall beaded lizard as a teacher had been unnerving at first she'd grown very fond of him. His lessons about the many kinds of immortal had always been interesting and often valuable, but she'd loved his complete indifference to her gender.

"He's visiting a basilisk mother-and-son living south of here, near Wolfwood, who've been finding some locals suspicious and hostile."

"Oh." She felt a pang for the unknown mother-and-son—or perhaps not unknown. "I might have met those basilisks, once, when I was riding with the Own. Did they use to live in the Royal Forest?"

"Yes, that's them. They've been all over northern Tortall since then. The mother's St'aara and her son is Amiir'aan." Kitten chirped what sounded like a correction and Numair smiled. "Of course Kitten can pronounce their full names properly and delights in doing so at great length, but even knowing Old Thak I can never get the gutturals of the spoken form right, so I stick to the short versions." He pulled himself back from the crag edge and stood. "I've no idea if your idea is practical, Keladry, but we can certainly look."

It didn't take them long to descend back to the courier trail and canter down to the valley floor. A mile below the rapids the river shallowed and broadened as it ran over a shelf of rock covered in sand, making a perfect ford. From his snorts Kel knew Peachblossom was enjoying the rush of cool mountain water against cannonbones and knees, and the valley looked beautiful in the sunlight, but the shell of Haven to the north prevented her relaxing. Reaching the further bank she let Peachblossom stretch his legs in a brief gallop that brought her to the foot of the scree, and dismounted.

Before trying any spellwork they broke out food and Geraint built a small fire, setting

water to boil. The Mastiff cooks had provided rolls, cheese, and cold meat, and despite dark Haven in the distance Kel felt her spirits rise. She pulled herself onto a small boulder at the edge of the scree, looking down-valley and letting legs dangle while she shared a roll with the sparrows and meat with Jump. This would be a good corner of the valley to dwell if her strange idea worked out; the towering fin would limit direct light, especially when the northern sun made only winter arches, but now, Samradh a week past, the shadow was pleasantly cool and the Greenwoods sparkled.

Bringing a cup of strong soldiers' tea Geraint sat beside her, smiling when a sparrow landed on his shoulder. His voice was soft.

"Lady Knight, wherever we build we're going to need to use as much timber from Haven as we can. I'm sorry." She nodded bleakly, having known the remains of her first command would have to be dismantled. "With your permission I'll take a couple of men and survey it. The fire-damage doesn't look as bad as I'd feared."

There was a question in his voice and Kel nodded again, eyes on Haven. "Master Numair had strong fire-protections on everything except the infirmary. And the Scanrans wanted to capture, not kill." She shifted to face him, drawing one leg up. "Master Geraint, the dead who fell there are buried in a mass-grave by the flagpole. There was no time for more, and I will not move them. Rather, we will make Haven our burial-ground. I know we need the timber, but please make sure everyone knows to respect that ground."

"Of course, my Lady. We will honour them."

A thought struck her forcibly. "I don't know what if anything survived inside any of the barracks—not much, from what I saw—but though the headquarters building was ransacked it wasn't torched in the same way." She flushed slightly. "My own room was there …"

"And you need your things. I understand, my Lady."

"Most of it can wait, Geraint, but I am going to need some clothing. Perhaps I should come with you."

"Please don't. I can get what's needed and it won't affect me the same way." Gently dislodging the sparrow he slid to his feet, turned, and to her surprise offered a salute. "Permission to go, my Lady?"

"Yes, carry on, Geraint. You'll have a good view from the knoll, so make sure someone keeps watch and has a horn."

"Right."

He walked off, calling soldiers, and Kel slid off the boulder, looking round. Kitten had scrambled almost to the top of the scree pile, followed more cautiously by Master Numair, obviously concerned about its stability; black fire glittered at his fingertips in case he found the ground moving under his feet. As Kel gazed at them Daine came to stand beside her.

"If Kitten's going to do what I think this might be very pretty." "Pretty?" Kel quirked an eyebrow. "What happens?"

"The rocks light up. She learned the basic spell years ago, when we first met Tkaa in Dunlath, and she's always loved it." A smile warmed her face. "At the siege of Port Legann she was showing off to Diamondflame and made the battlement light up, all in different colours. It's— what's that word Numair uses—all up and down, like rotten teeth." Her hand traced a pattern in

the air.

"Crenellated?"

"That's the one. Kitten made the teeth-bits light up. The ones that stick up."

"Merlons."

"If you say so." She grinned. "It was fair wonderful, but Lord Imrah was already having to walk round an invisible eighty-foot dragon on his keep roof and I don't think he wanted colourful merlons just then."

Kel's smile tipped into a laugh. She suspected she might have shared Lord Imrah's misgivings, but still. "An eighty-foot dragon?"

"About that." Daine's glance was amused. "Diamondflame's the strongest dragon, magically, but not the biggest. At the Dragonmeet there was one at least one-hundred-and-twenty feet, nose to rump."

Kel stared. "You went to a dragonmeet?"

"The Dragonmeet." Daine's eyes were on Numair and Kitten, crouched in conference. "It's a … well, legal body, I suppose, like a court. Someone didn't like mortals in the Dragonlands and tried to get us kicked out but Diamondflame and Rainbow put a stop to that." Her voice was absent. "Here we go."

Kel swallowed curiosity and looked up. Balancing carefully on a boulder thirty feet below the top of the scree, Numair hoisted Kitten to stand on his shoulders, one long arm reaching up to rest on the back of her head, where black-and-silver magic sparkled as Kitten gave a piercing whistle. As Daine had predicted the scree above them blazed in response and Kitten chortled. She whistled again, a lower note, and the dark rock of the fin glowed a strange blue; a third note made the limestone cliffs glow a lighter greeny-blue that reminded Kel of water. Then mage and dragonet began a more systematic lightshow, probing the scree and slowly descending in sweeps, colours flaring before them.

Tearing her eyes away Kel saw the soldiers who hadn't gone with Geraint edging back, faces strained. Even Jump and the horses were keeping their distance, though sparrows fluttered about the scree, peeping excitedly. She considered offering the soldiers a reassuring word, but it would make no difference to their fear of the black-robe mage. She'd seen it in poor Einur the cook at Haven, and even in the Riders and Own, where Daine was always welcome, Master Numair was treated with wary caution. The man had, after all, once turned an enemy mage into a tree—a story she'd barely believed when Neal first told it, but had since heard confirmed though she'd never seen the tree itself, somewhere at Dunlath. That name sparked an idea but before she could pursue it she realised that even in her mind she always called Master Numair by his title, though she thought of the Godborn Wildmage at her side just as Daine. Wasn't that her own way of keeping him at a safe distance, even after all he'd done for Haven? And he always called her Keladry, never the diminutive. A resolution formed.

"Daine, why does Numair never call me Kel?"

Daine glanced at her, eyebrows raised. "You always call him by his title. Etiquette bores him but he likes you so he offers respect. Why?"

"I've had cause to think about things like that recently. But I just realised I always call him 'Master Numair' for the same reason those soldiers are looking so wary. It's not fair on him."

The Wildmage's smile was warm. "No, it isn't. He's philosophical about it and says he can't expect anything else. But I remember at the siege of Pirate's Swoop, when I'd just come to Tortall, how the stable-hands and servants who'd seemed to like me went all stiff-legged after I healed Kit's ma and summoned the Kraken, though it saved us all. It still happens, if villagers see me change." She shrugged. "I don't blame them but it's hard." Smokey eyes gave Kel a shrewd look. "Are you finding the same, as Protector of the Small?"

"You've heard that silly name?"

"Kel, everyone's heard it, up here anyway, and I don't suppose Corus missed out." Daine grinned. "I'd get used to it. And anyway, it suits you."

"So the King said." Kel knew she sounded grumpy, and Daine grinned again. "But no, it's not really the same. The men aren't afraid of me, and they know I haven't a drop of magic. But they look at me differently and I can feel the weight of expectation, as if I'm going to do something extraordinary any moment."

"Yes, that's it." Daine's eyes were back on Numair and Kitten, working round the dampness by the limestone cliff. "As if I might suddenly turn wolf just to scare them. One reason I like Dunlath is no-one much cares anymore what I do. They see ogres and wolves and eagles in the castle whenever Maura's Council meets so what's a shapeshifter more or less?"

Kel's elusive thought returned and she grabbed it, exploring it as it unfolded. A dozen ideas popped into her head, some making her wonder if she were mad after all, but Numair was now climbing back down towards them, Kitten still riding his shoulders.

"Daine, there's no time now but when we've a chance there's something complicated I want to ask you."

Daine looked at her curiously. "About what?"

"Dunlath, sort of."

"Alright."

Numair came off the scree, face sheened with sweat, and swung Kitten down. Sparrows fluttered before perching where they could.

"There you are, monster. Happy now?"

Kit chortled, hugging Numair's leg, then chirped at Daine, who smiled. "He spoils you rotten, Kit. You could perfectly well have climbed down yourself. But yes, that was all very pretty and I do think your grandsire would be impressed. The sparrows certainly were and say thank you. What did you learn? Can you tell Kel at the same time?"

I can. There was a strain in the dragonet's happy mindvoice, but it was clear. The rocks are tightly packed and there are lots of them but I felt the cliffs behind. Both drop straight down to the ground, and in the white rock, where it meets the black rock, there is a cave. It is partly filled with rocks that have tumbled in, but I think it is big. And the water all comes from one place in the white rock, about forty feet above the ground. The flow is quite strong but much seeps straight down and disappears again. Only what the rocks divert forms the underground flow you saw from the crags where we stopped.

Kel's fist clenched. "Excellent. Thank you, Skysong, that's very helpful. I don't know about your grandsire, never having met him, but I'm impressed."

Kitten preened and Kel grabbed a stick and scuffed some ground clear. They leaned in to see as she squatted and drew crude lines to represent limestone and fin, then two enclosing walls.

"I'm no artist, but what I'm thinking is that we move all the scree, so the base of the angle is clear, and pile it up further out." She switched to a profile view, dragging the stick quickly through the soft dirt. "So around the base and this cavemouth you'd have a space at ground level, then a slope up to a much bigger level area. I'm not sure how high that slope could be, but I've tried to calculate the volume of this scree-pile, and my first guess is thirty feet or so. That would be the main level, with the barracks, stables, infirmary and so on. And around that, a raised rim, as sheer as you can make it outside. I'm guessing again, but I think if we did it like that, and you can magically revet it so it's stable, we might be able to get an outside face of fifty foot, all hard climbing at best—and there'd be the palisade on top of that. Plus from what Kitten says about that spring, we could have an internal water-source and channel what we don't need along the cliff to the outer wall, down, and back along below it before heading for the river." She looked up at them triumphantly. "A moat, then a fifty -foot scramble with traps and obstacles, and then fifteen-and thirty-foot double walls enclosing a killing field. Let the Scanrans try to climb that."

Kitten chortled, nodding, and Daine smiled, but Numair had a bemused look.

"You don't think small, do you, Keladry? You're describing a better fortress than Northwatch."

"Just Kel, please." She stood, dusting her hands as he gave her a sharp look. "And no, not any more. I realise it's not being made public, but you know what Irnai prophesied, so I'm expecting to have to defend whatever we build here. Mithros knows against what sort of force, but I have to assume the worst. So I'd want a gatehouse there"—she pointed with her foot—"hard against the fin, and the only approach a road sloping up across the west face of the glacis, right under the walls."

She looked Numair in the eye. "You have to understand that while Wyldon's giving me a regular company as well as the squads from Haven, I'll still be relying on refugees to man the walls. Giantkiller will screen us, but if Maggur puts together a real force—and he's been dealing in armies of several thousand this year—he can besiege Giantkiller and Mastiff with five hundred men apiece and send everything else at us. And if that happens there will be no way I can fight them in the field, whatever Wyldon thinks. So I shall have to fort up and defy them, for however long it takes for relief to arrive, which might be a week or more. And that means that to stand any chance I have to repel repeated assaults, and bleed the enemy hard. I'm sorry to be blunt, but that's the logic. And I'm not letting my people be hung out to dry again."

She gestured towards the shell of Haven, noticing as she did so distant figures—Geraint and soldiers—trotting back towards them.

"You know it. All those refugees, all those children, left in harm's way while lords bickered, and harm came calling. And here we are again, facing exactly the same problem, for all that Blayce is dead. So I want a fort that cannot fall while its defenders stay true."

Numair nodded sharply. "Right on all counts. I spoke again to Jonathan about these risks but he can't overrule the lords on their own lands without risking real trouble for the realm." He sighed. "It depends on stabilising the scree, Kel." She noted she hadn't had to ask him twice.

"Harailt and I can move and shape it, but fixing it to give the kind of slopes you want and support those walls and buildings for, what? a thousand people or more—that's another matter."

But Tkaa can make any stones stick together.

Numair frowned. "Using heat, you mean, Kit?"

No, they just stuck. And if you packed the stones with mud he could use the rock-spell. Would that not hold everything together?

"The rock-spell? What's that?"

Numair's eyes were losing focus and Daine answered Kel's question.

"It turns things to stone—a basilisk's main hunting and defence spell." Her voice was wry. "Sounds like an avalanche with a lot of shrieking thrown in, but it works. Tkaa used it to save me from a coldfang once, and against attacking hurroks at Port Legann."

"Oh." Kel thought furiously. "Is it a blasting spell, or can it be used … I don't know, more delicately?"

"Surely. Last time I met St'aara she said she'd had some luck turning wooden bowls and jars into stone, for villagers over by the Drell somewhere who'd lost their stonecarver. What are you thinking?"

"I'm not sure." But her visions now included fireproof roofs, and neither the palisades above a formidable glacis nor the spikes lining pits below magetraps were still made of vulnerable wood.

Numair's focus returned. "I don't know if Kitten's right, but I can contact Tkaa tonight and ask what's possible." He smiled with a certain grimness. "I don't think it's what the army had in mind, nor yet Jonathan, but it makes sense to me, Kel, and we'll do our best."

"Thank you, Numair." She met his eyes again. "For everything." She let her gaze drop to Kitten and remembering the dragonet's words went to one knee. "Thank you too, Skysong. You've been a well of ideas today. If it all works out we should give you the freedom of—well, I don't know what we're going to call it. New Haven, maybe. Or New Hope."

The dragonet went pink. I like New Hope. That is always good.

"It is. The refugees have a say but I think they'll like it too."

Kitten chirped agreement and behind her Kel heard Geraint arrive. Rising, she steeled herself to hear his assessment of what could be salvaged from Haven. It would always be a nightmare memory but her raw determination to prevent another such fall had become laced with optimism. The implications of Irnai's prophecy frightened her badly, but if New Hope could shelter behind the walls she envisaged it would not be her people with whom stormwings would play. Let whoever brought the war to them pay that price.

Wyldon took some convincing that Kel's idea was feasible, but Geraint had been willing, if bemused, and after talking to Tkaa Numair was firm there was a good enough chance to warrant trying.

"Both basilisks say sticking loose stone is simple," he reported, "and they can make the bond as strong as they want. Tkaa's intrigued, I think. St'aara said she'd offered help with stonework before, trying to earn a place to stay, but villagers have always been too frightened and

quarrymen hostile. This could be an opportunity in more ways than one."

Wyldon didn't seem much happier but Kel was definite on that point. On their ride back to Mastiff she'd been able to ask Daine about Dunlath, and how agreement had been reached with ogres to live peacefully with people and animals. War had taught Kel vividly how much trouble a single giant could make on a battlefield, how deadly centaurs were with arrows and how profoundly intimidating adult griffins, and that most immortals who made treaties kept them honourably. But she also knew that though the army made no provision to house or feed them, some of those living under treaty had been displaced by the war, while others had found nowhere to settle or preferred wandering. And if the most the realm could find to defend her refugees was a scant company of men she needed to make whatever allies she could.

That was the point she made to Wyldon, less bluntly and with subtle stress on the genuine difficulties in staffing she knew he faced—winning a wry nod. To Daine on the trail she'd emphasised her determination to be honest with all comers, telling them frankly she expected New Hope to have to fight against hard odds before the war was done but also her belief that if immortals would try to fit in, she thought they could .

"We've an advantage in that everyone's a refugee and used to getting along with whoever's there. We've also been shown the hard way what can happen in war, how vulnerable we are. We're taking Scanrans from Rathhausak and if anyone's objected Fanche and Saefas have set them right so fast I've not heard of it. The Haven refugees have actually been helping them get acquainted with the dogs and cats and birds you magicked before, though a couple of the older ones still mutter about wine besten duguth being unnatural."

Daine had laughed. "Yes, I've heard that from other Scanrans. 'Friendly animal retainers', I suppose you'd say. But they don't mind the People's help when they need it."

"No. And the Rathhausakers are used to Zerhalm. He's got animal healing magic, thank the Goddess, or we'd have lost that marmalade cat who was so helpful." She told Daine about the cat's bravery and concussion fighting Stenmun. "She's taken up residence with Fanche and Saefas since Dom left, and behaves like a queen, of course. Well, how you'd think a queen would behave, not like Thayet." Daine had laughed at that. "But getting back to the point, though frankly I don't like this side of it at all, with Irnai's tale circulating and the idea the gods were with us against death magic, they've also got the idea we have a special blessing. And like it or not, I can use that if anyone objects to a basilisk or an ogre. I've also been wondering about that griffin kit, and if his parents might be willing to take up residence."

Then she'd taken a deep breath and made an offer she hoped she wouldn't regret. "I'm not sure about that spidren, Quenuresh, and her kin, though. I'm sorry, Daine—I don't know if I could stick a spidren at close quarters. I've fought them so often and seen what they do to people they capture. But there's a patch of dense old woodland north of Haven, that spidrens have used before, and if you're sure Quenuresh means what she says and will honour a treaty, I think we could co-exist. For me it's enough if they'll leave people alone and defend their territory against any hostiles." Her fighting brain prompted an addition. "And if they want more, I don't mind trading though I'm not sure what. Meat for webbing, or whatever Quenuresh's magecraft lets her do."

Daine had ridden in silence for a while. Kel suspected she was talking to Kitten, who'd listened carefully and was now twisted round to look at Daine, but if so their conversation was strictly between themselves until the Wildmage suddenly nodded and looked at her.

"Alright, Kel, I'll try. There's not a lot of people I'd trust to say they'll protect peaceful immortals against upset two-leggers and actually deliver, but you're surely one. Kit thinks so too. And I've been feeling wretched about immortal refugees. Maggur probably makes the same offer

to ogres and centaurs he makes to giants, but giants like fighting. Most ogres in the mortal realms don't. They're miners or farmers, and you need both. And male centaurs just want to pasture their herds in peace and do well enough to keep females happy, so I think some will consider it. The griffins might too. They're not big on gratitude but they know they owe you a lot more than that sack of feathers, and the Vassa has big enough fish to interest them. I'm also grateful for the offer about Quenuresh. I think she's sincere, and she said several times she knew it'd be hard to win mortals' trust but she was sick of running and hiding and having no choice but to kill to defend herself and her kin."

She'd smiled wryly.

"It's odd, you know. They're immortals right enough, but most spidrens die young. They probably breed and grow the fastest of any immortal, but the fight for food means the younglings kill one another as often as not, and those who do make it to adulthood end up taking too many risks and getting killed anyway. Quenuresh came north in the hope of finding space and avoiding contact with two -leggers, but ran into the war and wasn't sure what to do. Then going south again she happened to skirt Dunlath, met an ogre who explained their treaty and how I'd been able to establish it, and came up with the idea of contacting my Da."

He was very surprised. Kitten's chortle had been rich and Daine had laughed, patting the dragonet.

"Yes, he was. So was I, come to that. But none of us could think of anywhere except Dunlath where it might work and Brokefang wouldn't like it—he's getting grumpier with age every time I see him. So your offer's very welcome, and I'll spread word as widely as I can among friendly immortals. The Badger'll help too."

That had led to explanations of how Daine came to know a Badger god that left Kel wondering why anyone thought her adventures strange, but to her surprise it was that detail that convinced Wyldon to support the whole thing. He had, he said dryly, had occasion to see the Badger in action before, delivering darkings to Thayet during the Immortals War, and in any case knew better than to argue with a god of any stripe. So calculations had been made, messages sent, and plans laid, and three days after she'd got back to Mastiff Kel led out a large column, with Harailt to help Numair, Daine and Kitten, and the western building team as well as a regular company to provide guards and commissariat. To Neal's disappointment he and the other knights had to fill gaps left in Mastiff's rosters, with Connac's men and Uinse's convicts. Nor would they have any of the refugees who'd volunteered help until there were walls to sleep behind, but Tkaa and no less than three other basilisks, including St'aara and Amiir'aan, were to meet them there.

The building team had a wagon-train loaded with tools, piping, and all manner of materials; there were also tents and food, so they had to take the longer, easier way, using the Frasrlund road and angling back to Haven from the north. Even on the wide trail the column travelled slowly and it took two days to reach the Greenwoods valley. Kel spent time getting to know the building team, a cheerful bunch, and the regulars who would be her permanent company at New Hope. She'd hesitated to ask Wyldon to make his choice so soon, but she wanted her men to see New Hope created, not least because if they knew they'd be defending its walls they'd have a commitment from the first. But he'd anticipated her, following the same logic, and she'd been surprised (if delighted) to discover there'd actually been competition among Mastiff companies to be chosen. The men selected, Company Eight under Brodhelm of Frasrlund, were proud of their assignment, and though she laced her words to them with cautions her descriptions of what she hoped to build with their help fired their enthusiasm.

It was too late when they came to the valley to consider starting anything that night, but the basilisks were waiting as promised, and while the builders made camp in the meadow north of the

fin and Brodhelm organised corralling, sentry-points, and patrol routes, Kel collected Geraint and went to make the immortals' acquaintances. Tkaa turned from his conversation with Harailt, Daine, Numair, and Kitten to greet her in that familiar, fluting whisper, and offered congratulations on her exploit. St'aara and Amiir'aan—as endearingly shy as she remembered— seemed pleased she knew their names and recalled their brief meeting five years before; the other basilisk was a male who said his name among mortals was Var'istaan, and that he'd been living near Northwatch but had headed south when the killing devices started appearing and been wandering ever since. The tale of her actions to end the necromancy had reached him via Tkaa and made him think very well of her, so here he was. Offering polite thanks, Kel half-suspected there might be some basilisk courting going on and made a mental note to ask Tkaa about it as soon as she had an opportunity to do so discreetly.

Then they got down to business. Kel again described what she envisaged, producing drawings that if still sketchy offered more detail than lines in earth, before Numair explained in magical terms and Geraint in engineering ones what the mortals could and couldn't do. A whispery exchange followed in a language that sounded as if stones popped into gravel in its depths. Then Tkaa fetched five small rocks from the bottom of the scree and set them in a row, tail and one forepaw ensuring they were hard against one another. Motioning the others back he leaned forward, tail outstretched, and cocked his head above the stones before making a noise the like of which Kel had never heard in her life—low and rumbling but with something almost inaudible threading through it that made her think of a vixen's scream, or the noises men made in the madness of battle. It lasted only a few seconds before Tkaa reached down to grasp the rock nearest him and picked up all five, extending them to a gaping Geraint.

"They are fused, and the bonds are stronger than the rocks themselves. Limestone is too porous for real resilience but I believe this would suffice for any stress mortals might generate."

Speechlessly the building officer took the assemblage, peering at the joins and trying to break the rocks apart. Numair and Harailt examined it magically before grinning at one another, then at Kel.

"Forgive me, Tkaa, but can you all do this?"

"We can, Keladry. It is only a variant of the rock-spell."

"And you can do it on the scale we need here?"

"Certainly. Numair may have to boost us if a very large area needs to be stabilised fast, and in that case another mage would have to shield all mortals from the spell, but it is not intrinsically difficult, nor exhausting to perform. You had a question, Geraint?"

"Two, my Lord. How deeply your spell can penetrate the pile when it's been rearranged, and how we should best sink foundations into it."

"I am no mortal's lord, Geraint of Legann, nor may any basilisk be such. But to answer, as deeply as we wish, and with the same spell applied differently. When you know where you wish to sink a post or foundation, we will loosen the stone, and when the post is in place, re-set it. Also, if mud is packed around it, to fill any gaps, we can turn that to stone also. With that work even young Amiir'aan will be able to assist."

The visions this conjured left Geraint and Kel rubbing their hands in glee, and she left builder, basilisks, and mages deep in half-magical, half-mathematical argument about how best to set about things. Daine turned to come with her, looking round for Kit, and saw the dragonet nose to nose with the young basilisk, scales pink. Checking with St'aara, who gravely consented, Daine collected both immortals, giving a hand to each, and caught up with Kel, who had watched

in fascination.

"Start as we mean to go on, Kel? I think Amiir'aan's a bit shy, but he's got good magic and Kit's dying to show off her light-spell to anyone she can get to watch. Introduce them to your men?"

Kel couldn't have asked for more and spent a cheerful, amusing hour seeing the extrovert Kitten cajole Amiir'aan into turning various sticks, small carvings, and copper bits into stone she could light up with all the colours of the rainbow. Initially wary but not unwilling, and increasingly charmed both by free entertainment and a sense of the young immortals as more of the children their Protector of the Small was properly given to rescuing, the soldiers were soon relaxed and laughing, proffering new things to be petrified. After a while Daine called a maternal halt to the magic, and sat to tell stories of Kitten lighting up battlements to impress her grandsire, Tkaa petrifying hurroks, and St'aara's and Amiir'aan's wanderings around Tortall. When she sat Kitten scrambled into her lap and Amiir'aan quietly tucked himself between her and Kel, tail draped over his arm; by the time she was done the young basilisk had made contributions of his own to explain why he and his mama had always ended up moving on. The men were silent when he spoke in his whisper, craning to catch every word and (Kel sensed with fierce pleasure) becoming indignant on his behalf at fearful villagers who thought they might be turned to stone, hostile quarrymen, and masons so sure they needed no immortal competition they wouldn't stop to consider advantages they might reap. Tkaa always said basilisks were by nature observer-diplomats, and watching Amiir'aan win the affections of her men Kel understood in a new way what he meant.

After the grinding logistics of her journey with the children Kel found having a commissariat made field command so much easier that her sense of lightness was almost palpable. A force of well-trained and experienced professionals made all the difference in the world, and while Brodhelm was punctilious in reporting to her she wouldn't dream of interfering in Company Eight's well-oiled routine. Raoul had taught her long ago that the first rule of giving orders was not to do so whenever it could be avoided, for once you started they'd be expected every time. "It breeds inertia in men and makes martinets of officers who should be doing something useful," he'd said. "Make sure they all know what needs doing, and leave 'em to it while you do your own work." So she did, though she took care to go over patrol routes and sentry-points with Brodhelm, telling him of problems presented by dead ground and dense trees. She sensed approval of her detailed knowledge and returned the respect—he was careful and thorough, and though his manner with his sergeants and men was easy they were swift to obey. Merric could learn a lot from him.

Everyone was up with dawn, and after breakfast the mages prepared. Kel had wondered if Numair would use the Sorcerer's Dance, as he had to bring boulders to Haven, and when she saw him and Harailt holding recorders she knew she'd been right. They positioned themselves on either side of the scree-pile, stared hard at one another for a moment, then simultaneously drew breath and began to play. The first eerie notes seemed to stir only the hair on Kel's neck but a lilting tune emerged as lines of melody entwined and after a moment she saw—and heard—rock begin to move, not from the top of the scree but about half-way down. Other rocks slipped as their haphazard balance was disturbed and soon the whole surface of the scree was in motion, scrub wavering and disappearing into a rocktide that rumbled and banged to the foot of the pile and kept going, flowing outwards across the valley floor for a thousand feet to pile up again in a broad arc. By then everyone had retreated; only Numair and Harailt remained within the moving stone, fingers flying as boulders swerved around their feet.

Seeing it would be hours before the level of the scree would sink enough to expose the spring and cave Kitten had mentioned, Kel took herself off to see what else might need doing. The unhappy truth was that until the mages were done there wasn't a great deal anyone could do

except make their own preparations. Geraint and the building team had headed off for Haven but Kel had no heart for that job, and was only glad the rumble of magework drowned out the distant rasp of saws and creaking timber that would otherwise be making her miserable. Nor would it help to put herself on patrol or watch, and as yet New Hope had no paperwork to be outstanding. She had hoped for a chance to ask Tkaa about the other basilisks, but all four were watching the magical dance of rock as raptly as if it were a show by players or a fine piece of music. Perhaps to them it was, but she noticed after a while that Kitten was growing bored, so with a wave of approval from Daine, intent on Numair, she collected the dragonet and took Peachblossom for a ride.

The big gelding, white-eyed at the ground-shaking rumble and audible notes, was delighted to get further away and made no objection to Kitten's weight on his withers, nor to her claws carefully gripping his mane. The dragonet was an experienced rider but Kel didn't risk a gallop; seeing the river had dropped a little she did canter Peachblossom across the ford and back, to his snorting and Kitten's whistling delight. Then she took them up valley, passing between the rapids and the jagged end of the fin into its southernmost third.

It had been in her mind for a while that from Haven, three miles north, they had underused this part of their resources. It had been on patrol routes, of course, and nuts and berries had been harvested, as the trees had been combed for deadwood, but they'd had no manpower to plough the bottomland nor protect any crops. But with New Hope—a name refugees and soldiers alike had approvingly adopted—at better than company strength and in all probability receiving more refugees as the war went on, that would no longer be true and Kel wanted to see what else there might be beyond the fin that she had neglected.

With the limestone cliffs rising sheer for a mile, though dropping in height, and the western hills closing in steadily to force the Greenwoods ever closer to them, the upper valley was narrower but there were still hundreds of acres of good cropland. And for all it narrowed it was long, stretching another ten miles to where the Great North Road crossed it and beyond towards the peak where the river had its source among the snows. Kel had no wish to extend cultivation that far, but there were good meadows immediately beyond the fin that would be only a couple of miles from the gates of New Hope. When she explained her thoughts to Kitten the dragonet agreed politely that the soil looked rich but to Kel's amusement obviously felt much as Neal did about vegetables. The seamed limestone cliffs were a better attraction, and after trotting south for a mile or so along the river Kel cut across the meadow and returned north sticking close to them, studying the southern face of the fin from this new angle with growing satisfaction; the rock wasn't entirely sheer but not even mountain goats were going to be climbing into New Hope that way. The angle of fin and limestone was again softened by scree but on this side there was less and lacking a spring it had no plant cover. Reaching it Kel dismounted, lifting Kitten down, and watched with interest as the dragonet scrambled up to a largish boulder and began whistling it into flares of white and yellow. The lightshow really was pretty, but Kel's more useful thought was that a second Sorcerer's Dance might with basilisk help make of this angle a simple enclosure to serve as a corral and handy defensive position, closer than New Hope and far better than open fields for anyone working beyond the fin when Scanran raiders tried their luck.

Calling a reluctant but obedient Kitten down and remounting, she cantered Peachblossom along the base of the fin, noting with surprise a slight sparkle in its dark hues. Pointing it out she was informed that the dark rock was made of different things stuck together, which made it strong, and among them were crystals and another kind that formed sharp edges. Fascinated by the dragonet's odd knowledge and view of the world, it occurred to Kel that she made the rock sound like the kind of community New Hope would have to become, finding its strength and resilience not in sameness but in difference bound together. It was the kind of analogy Neal mangled in his attempts at poetry, not something she'd usually think, and she wondered if she'd been overexposed to his pining for Yuki or if the revolution in her mind since getting back to Mastiff

was prompting a different kind of imagination.

Rounding the end of the fin she saw the arc of scree had grown to thirty feet, blocking any view of the mages though notes sounded intermittently through the bass rumble of the rocktide. The top of the screepile had vanished though its outline remained in the lightness of newly exposed limestone, but from the sound it would be a while before there was anything to inspect. Kitten stayed while she unsaddled and rubbed Peachblossom down, then made a circuit of sentries, but when she settled to discussion of company matters with Brodhelm the dragonet offered farewells, startling and pleasing the officer, and went to see if the basilisks were being any more interesting. Kel shared her thoughts about the valley beyond the fin and was glad to find Brodhelm receptive, promising to look for himself. He asked in turn how she and Sir Merric had managed with so few troops at Haven and seemed struck by what she told him about the capacities refugees had shown, ending in their annihilation of a raiding party without calling for help at all.

"It was a small party, mind—eleven irregulars, not organised troops, but they did well. And Haven fell to the killing devices as much as troops. Saefas Ploughman and Uinse, who leads the convict soldiers, told me they'd got everyone inside and were holding out until three devices came over the eastern wall together. They got one there, with nets and a pickaxe, and another inside, but not before they all wreaked havoc and dragged too many soldiers off the gate. And that was that."

Brodhelm nodded grimly. "I've seen them training, my Lady, and was surprised how good they were, even the children. You've done a fine job. And I've heard what Sergeant Connac said to my sergeants. But I didn't know they'd killed two devices here. That's impressive."

"I know. Sir Merric didn't have them patrolling, of course—they were needed for ploughing and the rest of the work—but he did have the best archers and spearmen worked into watch rosters so no-one had to do nights for more than a week at a time. I realise you've enough men to do that anyway, but when the time comes I'd be glad if you'd consider it. Like the training, it helped them to know they were contributing to their own defence, not depending on others."

"Mmm, I see that. And I've no objections in principle, once I've a sense of who I'm trusting." He hesitated. "Did the convict soldiers stand watches and patrol?"

"They did. And every one came on to Rathhausak voluntarily." The one benefit Kel had discovered to having her report become everyone's favourite reading was that she could assume any Mastiff soldier understood in fair detail how things had unfolded.

Brodhelm nodded. "I hear you, my Lady. Those lads have proven themselves, right enough. I was asking because my Lord of Cavall said he thought any extra troops we'd get would be convicts, and I've heard there are some due in a week or two, from the mines over by Seabeth."

"Let's hope so. I'll say frankly that my predecessor at Haven, Captain Elbridge"— Brodhelm nodded that he knew the name—"told me as he handed me his whip that convicts were scum who understood nothing else. He seems to have made sure their rations were short and their care from healers non-existent. My own experience, and Sir Neal's, is that being properly cared for and fed soon turns sullen resentment and foot-dragging into pride, with hard work and loyalty fast following." She shrugged. "I know they did wrong but they were thieves and brawlers, not men like Blayce or Stenmun, driven more by poverty than greed. In any case, the King gives them the choice to volunteer, by way of a fresh start, and I'll not have anyone treated the way Elbridge thought fitting."

"Fair enough, my Lady. I'd not expect that of you and I've heard Captain Elbridge is a

deal too fond of his whip." His tone became curious. "Tell me, though, what punishments do you use when need arises?"

Kel grinned. "Scouring armour and latrine duty, mostly. A solid week of it works wonders, I find." Brodhelm chuckled. "The stocks if someone has to be restrained but that's only happened once. We've had problems when new refugees arrive, but just squabbles from upset for the most part. Nothing worse than fisticuffs and no military problems that made it to me." She thought for a moment. "It'll depend if they already have squad sergeants, but if we get more convicts I'd be inclined to put Uinse in charge under you of all those squads, with Jacut as senior corporal. I can promote that far on my own authority and Uinse's a natural."

He nodded. "Yes, they sound good men. If convict numbers go beyond a squad or two having one of their own over them makes sense." He looked over her shoulder. "I think you're wanted, my Lady."

Kel turned to see Daine waving at her, and jogged over.

"They've uncovered the spring, Kel, and the top of a cavemouth. It looks big, and there's a lot of rock spilled inside it. I've made Numair and Harailt stop for a bit to eat and drink, just, and it'll be hours before they can clear it to the ground."

It was well into the afternoon before Kel could pick her way over a low pass left in what had become a hummocky scree-field to see the spring, a steady gush of water pattering onto the lowered stone slope beneath it, a white streak in shadow; more startlingly the dark outline of a cavemouth showed in the angle of the cliffs, a half-arch leaning against the darker rock of the fin. About thirty feet of ground around it had been cleared, and she followed Daine down the last few feet of stone to join the mages and Kitten with a childhood sense of exploring the unknown and finding a natural den. Numair, bathed in sweat and coated in dust, was chugging water from a bottle Daine had brought, but after a moment passed it to an equally wet and dusty Harailt.

"It's big, Kel, and the air smells fresh so there must be other openings. Good storage, though you'll need to watch for damp." He grinned. "Kitten wants to try her lightshow, though we might try magelight first."

"By all means, but only when you're ready."

"Oh I'm not that tired magically. Just hot and dusty."

Harailt raised eyebrows, wiping his forehead, but if without Numair's reserves didn't have the pinched look mages got when they'd drained themselves and followed readily as Numair led them to the cavemouth. Enough daylight spilled in for Kel to see the floor was flat for some yards, but the entranceway angled away from the fin and she could see little beyond that. Numair called a ball of light into his hand, picking his way forward, then stepped to one side.

"Come on in—it really opens up."

He let the spill of light from his hand play on the floor until they were all level with him, then cast it into the air. It floated upwards for what seemed a long way, before flaring dazzlingly to illuminate a wonderland that drew them all forward. The cave was enormous, deep and high with rounded walls white enough to gleam in the light; on the far side spears of rippled rock hung from the roof while others stood up from the floor, surrounding a pool. Its dark surface was still and Kel knew it would be deep and bone-cold. Closer to the fin the cave seemed dry, and thought the floor was uneven there was certainly space for storage and at need people. Nor could she see any end, and from the feel of air moving knew the cave must extend for some distance and would have to be explored, if only to be certain it offered no way in from elsewhere. But that was for another

day.

"Well, now, that's useful." Harailt spoke with a smile. "You've got a water reserve, Keladry. And it's cool enough to keep provender fresh."

"You're also going to have some happy basilisks, Kel. They'll be glad to explore it for you." Daine grinned. "All sorts of crunchy treats to find, though I don't think you get gemstones in this kind of rock."

"You get fossils though, and Tkaa's been known to say how tasty they are." Numair sounded dubious. "I think he was teasing Bonedancer. But Daine's right they'll like a cave this big. Oh my, that's fine."

The exclamation was prompted by Kitten, sitting by the rock spears thrusting from the floor by the pool and happily making them glow with beads of emerald and blue iridescence that chased one another up and down the stone in whirling spirals.

"She's refining that spell every day, I swear. Soon enough, Harailt, we'll be able to improve that Carthaki light-spell we got from Lindhall."

"Don't start on theory, love." Daine laid a hand on Numair's arm and he smiled at her ruefully. "Just be glad Kitten's found something to keep herself amused while you go back to rock dancing."

"Slavedriver." Leaving his light-ball glowing above he headed back toward the daylight of the cavemouth, holding Daine's hand. "Kel, we need to know what to do so far as that spring is concerned. There's no point moving the scree under it if we're only going to have to put it back later. If we get the basilisks in, can you show us exactly what you want?"


	6. Chapter 4

Allying

Chapter Four — Allying

July – August

It took ten days of hard labour punctuated by the rumbling shrieks, and left mages and basilisks looking the worse for wear, but when it was done Kel's satisfaction was immense, and shared. From the circle of clear ground in front of the cavemouth a broad path rose across a gentle, curved thirty-foot slope of bonded scree smoothly faced with petrified mud, reaching the top about two-thirds of the way round. Beyond its end the scree nearest the limestone cliffs rose again more sharply before flattening to meet them in a broad terrace five feet below the level of the spring, splashing into a large stone cistern; the overflow was carried away in an open trough along the cliff wall. Below the terrace the main level spread like a plain for a thousand feet along cliffs and fin, rising steeply at its outer edge another eighteen feet into a shelf sixty wide, along the outside of which the walls would stand. And beyond that the stone plunged a full fifty feet at better than seventy degrees: the work of facing the glacis remained, but even with footholds among bonded rocks and free hands it was an awkward climb.

Where the trough from the spring met the outer shelf it fed into a copper pipe laid through the rock, the water arching out to fall into a newly dug and lined pool that would connect to the moat. At the other end of the girdling shelf, where it met the fin, the roadway cut across the western face of the glacis turned, narrowed, and rose sharply (as Orchan advised) before reaching the top. Wide enough for a single cart, the roadway had a low inner side, exposing it to fire from above, but a near-vertical drop on the outer; at the bottom it curved sharply away, crossing the only part of the moat that had been dug out on a single fifteen -foot wooden span the building team had put together, complete with mageblasts to drop it at need, in less time than Kel would have believed possible. Beyond that there was only a beaten track across the valley bottom but paving would follow, and a bridge of basilisk-quarried limestone blocks was being built by the ford over the Greenwoods, against the annual snowmelt.

Gatehouse, headquarters, infirmary, cookhouse and messhall, military and civilian barracks, stables, smithy, storage buildings, barns, latrines, and woodsheds had corner posts sunk, enabling teams spreading and smoothing mud Amiir'aan then petrified to concentrate on areas of immediate use. Kel was wary of making too much smooth stone too soon; they would want greenspace and trees besides a kitchen garden, but pathways were in place to save turned ankles, and work had started on the shelf. She won a mild argument with Geraint about a schoolhouse, agreeing cheerfully it came after essentials and reserving ammunition for a more serious dispute.

Unexpected fifty-foot glacis or no, Geraint's orders were to build double walls, of fifteen and thirty feet with a twenty-foot killing field between them, and that he would do. Kel had no objections, but after considerable thought decided she wanted the outer walls to have proper alures, which meant access from the inner wall—a bridge over the killing field, to Geraint an abomination. Access one way meant access the other, but after contentious discussions including Brodhelm Kel still felt that while there should only be one bridge, at the junction of western and eastern walls, with mageblasts all over it, the advantage of giving her archers better views, sharper, plunging angles of fire, and closer range unless and until anyone took the outer wall was too great to forgo. From the inner wall the outer would provide cover for anyone who made it any distance up the glacis, and though the increase in range to the ground was not that great it would degrade accuracy. And at bottom Kel wasn't prepared to sit and let an attack happen; she'd meant what

she said about the need to bleed an enemy, and that meant giving her people every chance to do so she could manufacture. Geraint hadn't been happy but Brodhelm cautiously supported her, and the outer wall starting to rise along the eastern side of the glacis, using timbers from Haven, had a full alure, with inner stairways to give access to the killing field.

In consequence, one further structure had been added to the plans, a square tower at the junction of the inner walls to house a permanent guard on the bridge; backup mageblast keys would be held elsewhere but if attackers got so far the tower captain would be in the best position to blow the bridge as late as possible and no later. Its elevated roof would also command clear views of the killing field, with more angles of fire than the inner wall would allow.

The work had so absorbed Kel that when Numair observed one morning that she'd need to leave with him and Daine tomorrow to make Steadfast in time for the weddings, she was shocked to realise it was already the third week of July. Part of her was loath to go but she couldn't let down Neal or Raoul, let alone Yuki and Buri. Dom would also be there, a bittersweet attraction, and anyway she'd promised. Numair, Harailt, and Tkaa would not be returning, and she persuaded them to spend the day shifting scree on the far side of the fin into a circular heap enclosing a four-hundred foot quarter-circle, twenty -five foot high and steep enough to require real climbing. A gap wide enough for one horse but not two was left hard against the fin, and Kel climbed the roadway back to New Hope with renewed satisfaction.

What she could wear to the weddings was a sore puzzle. Geraint had recovered her things from Haven and she'd been absurdly happy to see her Yamani cats and paintings, as well as the bag of griffin feathers and spare weaponry, though she presently had nowhere to put them. But if the headquarters building hadn't burned it had been smoke-filled, and her clothes were soot-speckled and reeking. None of the finery cleaned easily, and she feared the dresses were ruined, but had reluctantly taken her best Mindelan tunic and breeches to the cistern trough and rinsed them thoroughly, thinking Yuki would kill her for attending her wedding in such gear. Nor was she altogether relieved on the courier trail to Mastiff the next day, when she mentioned the problem to Daine only to be informed it was taken care of.

"Neal realised you'd probably lost everything when you wore a tunic to that feast they gave for you, and came belting round to get Numair to open a firelink to the Palace. Yuki was always going to be bringing his new finery and now she's bringing something for you too."

Kel imagined her Yamani friend was. Visions of flowery pink kimonos floated in her mind but Daine was looking thoughtful.

"And actually, Kel, I think there'll be more guests than we know about. If Thayet lets Buri get married without her I'll be very surprised, so we may find more court dresses at Steadfast than the north's seen since the Great Progress."

Kel wasn't any happier for that but thought Daine might be right about the Queen, who was after all Buri's oldest friend. If she'd thought about it in time she could have sent to Lalasa for something that wouldn't make her look like a decorated treestump, but events had driven it from her mind despite Neal's constant paeans to Yuki's eyebrows, toes, and golden Yamani complexion. And while Thayet always seemed sensible she wasn't called the Peerless for nothing, and her presence would mean an entourage of elegant court beauties who made Kel feel most acutely the price paid for her training in thickened ankles, column waist, and scars. At least her monthly had finished a few days before, with the bloated feeling that had accompanied her first courses since returning from Rathhausak, but it was cold comfort.

Shortly after noon they stopped at Mastiff to eat and allow Kel to report to Wyldon. He heard her enthusiastic description of the defences already achieved with interest, informed her the eastern building team were due shortly, and when she lingered sent her on her way with

instructions to enjoy herself and a request to convey formal letters of congratulation to Queenscove and Goldenlake. Neal, Seaver, Faleron, and Owen had left two days before with Duke Baird, but Wyldon and Harailt were staying.

"Someone has to hold the fort while you're all disporting yourselves." His face was stern but Kel could see through his demeanour to a dignified amusement. "Go on with you, Keladry. The whole front's been quiet since your return and Sir Myles says Maggur's back in Hamrkeng trying to hold his army together, so I expect we'll be safe enough in your absence, this time."

Feeling emotion surge as she realised he'd seen to the core of her reluctance, she turned back from the door and before she could persuade herself out of it gave him a quick hug.

"Thank you, Wyldon. You're a good man."

Then she fled, for once leaving him pink-cheeked, and within minutes was waving to children as she rode past the tents with Daine and Numair, heading down to the Northwatch road and west for Steadfast. After a quiet night at a waypoint, marked only by a conversation between Daine and a bear they found hopefully snuffling at the mage-locked storage bins and delighted with a small gift of honey, they rode through the fort's imposing gates in time for lunch, and found social bedlam winning a struggle against army order. Queen Thayet was there, an Ownsman on the gate informed her gloomily, as were Prince Roald and Princess Shinkokami with a half-dozen Queen's ladies, three groups of Queen's Riders, and five squads of the Own's Second. Moreover, he added with a sniff, half Corus had taken advantage to ride along and seemed surprised to find a frontline fort in wartime did not have every comfort they thought essential. Passing to the stables Kel got no further than dismounting before being tackled fiercely by Tobe and Jump, who'd ridden with Neal and the others, then by the groom-to-be, hair in wilder disorder than usual and jittering as if his breeches were full of ants.

"There you are at last, Kel. You've cut it very fine. The weddings are tomorrow, you realise? You delight in torturing my last hours as a bachelor. Yuki's been beside herself since her brother arrived and whacking me with her fan every other minute. Even Raoul's growling."

"Keiichi's here?"

"With more swords than any man needs. You're looking after him tomorrow, seeing as you speak Yamani and he doesn't speak much Tortallan or Common. Now come on, for pity's sake, or there won't be a wedding because Yuki will have killed me."

Abandoning Peachblossom and the sparrows to Tobe and Jump with a promise to see them properly as soon as she could, Kel let herself be dragged to the barracks serving as female quarters and thrust through the door as Neal rushed off on some other errand, still jabbering like a madman. She had no time to ponder Keiichi's presence, though, or that he spoke very good Tortallan, Common, and two other languages because an unusually demonstrative Yuki fell on her with a rush of words and a string of orders to a company of seamstresses and maids. Sorting through the chatter Kel decided Neal had not been exaggerating as much as she'd suspected: her friend was bright-eyed and her shukusen did look as if it had received hard usage lately, but there was that purpose in the apparent confusion that told her Yuki was running everything smoothly, and the panic was Neal's. Amid the bustle she found herself stripped to breastband and loincloth and measured in all directions by an efficient woman who consulted Yuki and rushed off. She was reaching self-consciously for her shirt when Yuki stopped her.

"No, Kel, we can do the fitting straight away." She frowned, looking her friend up and down. "You've lost weight but Lalasa's measurements are still good, so there's not much to adjust —some tucking for the bust of the underdress, and perhaps the hips." Coming forward she grasped Kel's hands, searching her eyes with a serious look. "It is very good to see you alive and

well. We're all so proud of you. Was it very bad?"

Kel smiled, ignoring polite Yamani blankness and her undress, and leaned forward to hug Yuki. "It wasn't pretty but it's over and everyone's safe. What about you? All set for tomorrow? And who's this we? You and Cricket?"

"Oh yes, all is ready except your dress and the flowers, but they won't be done until tomorrow morning. Lord Sakuyo knows how the food will be—we brought delicacies from Corus but we're having to rely on the Own's cooks—and yes, Shinko's proud of you, of course, but there are other people who want to see you too." A sly smile lit her eyes. "Including one I doubt you're expecting."

"That sounds ominous. Who—"

Kel's curiosity had to be stifled as the seamstress returned with what appeared to be an entire wardrobe and set about investing Kel with more layers than one of Numair's explanations. There was a fine lawn shift that made her very conscious of shabby small clothes, then an underdress the woman ruthlessly adjusted and pinned beneath her breasts and at her hips, indifferent to Kel's embarrassment at being rather intimately handled and her squeak when a pin went astray. Once that was completed with a brusque promise to have bust and waist properly sewn for the morning, the next layer was a gorgeous cream silk under-kimono decorated with a leaf pattern, and finally a magnificent over-kimono in a deep forest green with Mindelan owls and its own creamy distaff border and obi—beyond question Lalasa's handiwork and repeated on a pair of fine slippers. Speechless, Kel stared at the elegant stranger in the metal mirror the seamstress held up, then at Yuki who dimpled pleasure, smiling so much she had to hide behind her fan.

"That's better."

"It's amazing, Yuki. You can't have had this done in a month!"

"No. I was always going to bring you a proper dress kimono or I knew I'd have a bridesmaid in breeches."

"A bridesmaid?"

"Yes, Keladry. You're my oldest friend. Did you think you'd be standing idly about?"

Kel spluttered and Yuki grinned. "Cricket insisted on being matron of honour, as the Queen did for Buri, so you're in good company."

"What do I have to do? I've never been a bridesmaid, Yuki." "You haven't? But all your sisters are married."

"I missed Oranie's and Adalia's weddings. And Demadria's." She wasn't going to tell even Yuki that despite her mother's efforts her fashion-conscious, very feminine sisters would sooner have had a stormwing attend them than the Cow. "Just give me clear orders, Yuki."

"It's not complicated. You and Cricket walk behind me holding flowers as we go in and follow us out afterwards, pairing with Neal's best man and supporter. Then you help me change, we go to the second ceremony, and you're off duty."

"I can do that, though why you think I can help you change is beyond me." Yuki grinned. "There'll be maids, don't worry."

"Good. Who are Neal's best man and supporter?" "His cousin Domitan and Roald."

"Oh." Kel's heart bounced. "Right. Flowers, behind you in and beside Dom out, defer to the maids. Anything else?"

"Face paint, Yamani-style. I'll do you when I do myself."

Kel scowled. "Must I?"

"Of course you must. Do you want Keiichi to report that I was attended by a barbarian?"

"As if he'd care. How is he, anyway? I didn't think he could make it. And why does Neal think he can't speak Tortallan?"

Yuki's eyes crinkled and she whipped her fan up again. "He's well, and the emperor overruled his mother-in-law. Very publicly."

"Oh my. That must have been fun all round."

"So he says. I think he adopted the dumb act for the fun of teasing Neal, the dubious pleasure of hearing him mangle Yamani half to death, and to win time to see me and Cricket by ensuring no-one else is thought competent to entertain him."

Kel laughed. "Sensible man. I'd forgotten how wicked he can be. From Neal's babbling about swords I take it he's in full samurai fig?"

"Certainly. He is representing the emperor as well as my parents." "Really? He's doing very well."

"Yes. My parents are exceedingly happy with both of us. Let Sabila take the kimonos and the rest until tomorrow, and come to see Cricket."

Beautiful and flattering as the outfit was, Kel was glad to get back to her comfortable breeches, shirt, and tunic. Her relaxation was short-lived, though, for when Yuki showed her to the room where Shinko was waiting she found not only Thayet and Buri with the Queen's Ladies, Uline haMinch among them, but to her astonishment her mother.

"Kel, sweeting." Ilane of Mindelan grasped her youngest daughter's hands fiercely before enfolding her in a tight hug. "By the time we heard about it all you were safe, thank the Goddess, but I don't think I've ever seen your father have so many kittens as he did when the King showed him your report. Or be so proud. We both are."

"Oh Mama." Kel felt herself tearing up and swallowed hard, clinging to the practical. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't not."

Ilane gave her a searching look. "Sorry? Whatever for?"

"Risking so much. Our honour. If Lord Wyldon and the King hadn't been so generous—"

"Nonsense, Keladry." Thayet's voice was firm but kind. "You did nothing of which you shouldn't be very proud. And that deal Jonathan made with you shamelessly took advantage of your confusion and injury. He can't pay off one debt with another, as he knows perfectly well. If I'd had my fan when he told me I'd have whacked him, as Yuki does Neal. No, don't look at me

like that—it's no more than the truth. And I'm bothered if you'll apologise for saving all those people from that putrid mage. But I'm afraid we do want a first-hand account, so come tell us."

Kel wasn't sure if that was the royal we but despite the confusions roiling inside her there was clearly no getting out of it, so she let herself be seated and plied with tea before answering questions as best she could. Though the Queen's Ladies were graceful, courtly women they were also trained to arms, if not as knights were; their questions were practical and if tinged with admiration that made Kel increasingly uneasy showed a grasp of logistics as well as sharp appreciation of the assistance her animals had given. Buri's and Thayet's questions were more searching; Cricket and her mother listened intently with a stillness that told Kel they were holding in strong emotions. Eventually Thayet and Buri exchanged a long glance and sat back, faces thoughtful.

"Raoul said you'd taken a deathly risk at Rathhausak, Kel, and he wasn't wrong. But what else were you to do?" Buri smiled dryly. "And I have nothing but admiration for you getting those children back to Tortall. Thayet and I once had the dubious pleasure of escorting a tenth that many through a war-zone, and what we'd have done with two hundred I cannot begin to think."

"Gods, that's true." Thayet shook her head. "We didn't have any men-at-arms, mind, but until we met Alanna and Liam we didn't have any idea what to do. Sarain was a nightmare in those days."

This story was new to Kel and from their looks to most of the Queen's Ladies, and as Thayet and Buri were coaxed into telling it Kel gratefully withdrew from attention. Shifting to sit between her mother and Cricket she quietly caught up with both, finding Cricket eager for her own, long postponed wedding to Roald and wistful that Yuki would precede her into the mysteries and pleasures of marriage. A similar thought had crossed Kel's mind but this was hardly the place for intimate talk and she let conversation slide to preparations Cricket was making, and the Yamani delegation that would attend. A month's leave for the round trip to the capital was out of the question, unless Maggur were to drop dead and end the war, and though they both hoped for it she knew in her heart that wasn't how events would play out.

Ilane had assorted news of family and brought Kel shocked congratulations from Anders and Inness with welcome news of two royal warships stationed at Mindelan against possible reprisals. Perhaps mercifully, she hadn't seen Conal since Kel's report had been published, or tactfully wasn't saying. Later, when they slipped out to find the lunch Kel had missed and tucked themselves into Ilane's guest-room, she also wormed out of her daughter some explanations of her apology and what Thayet had meant about a deal, eyes darkening.

"Thayet was right, Kel. That stinks."

"I didn't think so, Mama."

"You wouldn't. But if it makes you happier, that's good." She sat in thought for a minute. "The King's right you were grossly underestimating yourself, though. I didn't bring you up to …" Her gaze sharpened. "It's because you weren't there, isn't it? You were trying to punish yourself."

Kel flushed. "That's what Dom thought."

"Masbolle? Wise man."

"I don't know, Mama. Maybe. It's hard." Truth broke through. "It's not that I wasn't there for the attack. I know I can't be everywhere I should—no commander can. But I didn't do enough before. I knew the defences weren't up to any real attack. Gods, I even knew why we were being attacked so often, that the children were the target. I should have got more men out of Wyldon and

Raoul somehow. I knew I should. And if I had many people would be alive, and the children wouldn't have had to survive a nightmare."

"Wait, Kel. How could you know all that?"

The King's explanations had not extended to the Chamber nor the involvement of Irnai and at least two gods, and Ilane's eyebrows moved steadily skywards as she listened. But whatever curses she wanted to heap on the Chamber, she was impatient with her daughter's guilt.

"Whatever you thought you knew, Kel, the vulnerability of the refugees was political maths, nothing you or Lord Wyldon could have done anything about. I agree it's wrong but it's how it is. And war's never logical close to. You did all you could. Actually, you did a great deal more. Venting at command wouldn't have got you anywhere but everyone's black books, and when it did all happen as you feared you did something truly amazing to save your people. I doubt they're complaining or calling for your head, so why are you?"

"I'm not any more, Mama. I accepted the King's deal gratefully. And I'm putting the energy into fixing that political maths another way." Kel wasn't going to report Irnai's prophecy and worry her parents when there was nothing they could do, but she could describe New Hope and its improbable construction, winning riveted attention. Ilane was too observant not to realise something driving her daughter was going unspoken, but the building capacity of mage–basilisk teams given loose stone to work with was news for anyone to ponder, and when one or two questions shaved close to the bone Kel shyly proffered the tale of her conversation with Wyldon. Just like Raoul, Ilane first stared and then collapsed in her chair with a whoop. Kel glared at her.

"What's so funny about it? Raoul's reaction was the same, as if Wyldon really were like the stump Neal calls him. He's just a person."

Ilane whooped again. "This from you? Sweeting, he's the stiffest man I've ever met who can still move and he treated you appallingly."

"Not really. He just didn't treat me well. But he let me stay and cured my fear of heights. I couldn't be what I am without him."

"I know, sweeting. And it's not really funny, you're right. Actually, it's rather touching. But it is the best irony I've heard in a while, that after all his bile about the unfitness of women in arms you and he should become better friends than he is with most people in his own political circle." Ilane wiped her eyes. "I take it this isn't public news?"

"Certainly not. It's no-one's business but our own." Kel smiled. "And I'm keeping the pleasure of telling Neal in reserve for when I really want to shock him.

Ilane grinned. "That makes sense, though I shall have to tell your papa. And Anders, if I may—he'll enjoy the irony too, when he's picked himself up off the floor."

Their conversation drifted into domesticities about Mindelan, and after a while Kel went to discharge her promise to Tobe and hear what he'd been up to with the fine warhorses Wyldon kept, and Jump with the equally fine wardogs. Afterwards she ate supper with Neal and the other knights of her year, hearing news of quiet patrols and when they were briefly joined by Roald and Owen describing New Hope to some amazement, but declined their invitation to help get Neal drunk. Before taking herself off to bed, though, she did manage a quiet chat with Merric, telling him about Brodhelm and how Company Eight were working patrols and defence. He nodded and met her gaze.

"Lord Wyldon told me that you wanted me as Brodhelm's second, if I was willing. And I

am, Kel, never doubt it. I'm just glad you still trust me after—"

"Hush." She laid a hand on his arm. "There were a lot of mistakes made, Merric. Command screwed up, not us—we were left holding the babies, literally. I want you at New Hope because I can trust you, not just as a knight and captain. You know our people and they like you. I think Brodhelm can teach us both a lot, but you can keep him up to the mark if he steps astray. Thank you for agreeing to come back."

It had been a more emotional afternoon and evening than Kel had been expecting, but Merric's strength and commitment was a good place to end it, and she found her small bed in a barracks-room shared with a Queen's Rider with a sense of another step taken.

She rose before dawn, fed Jump and the sparrows, and fitted in an hour of exercise and pattern dances as well as delivering Wyldon's letters to Neal's and Raoul's rooms before eating breakfast and dutifully reporting to Yuki to be painted. It had been years since she'd worn the full white mask with bright lips and shadowed eyes high etiquette required, and while she disliked the sense of constriction all that was needed was her familiar mask, as expressionless as the white paint. Yuki turned her brushes on Cricket, who returned the favour, and all three were assisted into their layers of clothing. The adjustments to Kel's underdress were a marvel, and the fabric now lifted her bust into near-respectability and flared at her hips, making her waist seem thinner. The changes enabled the thin ties of her under-kimono and obi to be drawn tighter, extending the benefits outwards.

Yuki's kimonos were the pure white traditional for wedding, in Yaman as in Tortall, with the most delicate white-on-white embroidery showing the arms of Daiomoru and Queenscove; to Kel's impressed amusement there was also a proper tsunokakushi headpiece in the design that always reminded her of a broad-beamed riverboat. Cricket's outfit, by contrast, was a deep red as dark as Kel's forest green, embroidered in gold with the Conté sword and imperial Yamani dragon, and bound with a black obi. When they presented themselves for inspection to Thayet, green and red framing Yuki's bridal white, the Queen sighed pleasure and congratulations, as did Ilane, in fine grey kimonos but without face-paint. To Kel's delight and envy Thayet, Buri, and Onua Chamtong, Buri's bridesmaid, had broken out their best K'miri outfits, loose, embroidered white leggings and long, richly coloured, elaborately decorated tunics. Buri said she wasn't about to start married life by abandoning trousers and giving Raoul strange notions of domesticity, and there were a few improper remarks that made Kel grateful for paint that hid all blushes.

The ceremonies were not until afternoon but time seemed to fly. At one point Kel answered a brisk rap on the door of the women's quarters to find Dom, magnificent in silk trousers and a Masbolle tunic, bearing the groom's gift to the bride and elaborately sealed letters patent approved by King and Emperor that made Yuki heir to Queenscove until she and Neal had children, established her style as Lady Yukimi noh Daiomoru of Queenscove, and symbolically granted a parcel of land in a corner of the second largest Yamani Isle. Bowing in almost correct style, Dom proffered her a long, thin box and bundled scrolls.

"My lady, these are for …" His voice trailed away as he saw the Mindelan owl on her kimono and searched her face. "Kel? Is that really you in there?"

"I can't smile in all this paint, Dom, but yes, it's really me. You're well? It's good to see

you."

"Oh, I'm good. You look splendid, though."

Was she imagining that his eyes lingered longer than was polite on her boosted curves? Her heart thudded, and she found herself again grateful for concealing paint, but they talked easily for a few moments. Raoul had filled Dom in on the essentials of her meeting with General Vanget

and King Jonathan, and he twitted her gently about her fears beforehand and offered amused congratulations on the fate of her written report. She in turn gave him an outline of the startling building of New Hope, which he promised to see as soon as he could, but both had other duties calling and after hastily fetching the bride's gift to the groom, a magnificent Yamani sword, they ended with mutual promises of a proper chat later.

Neal's gift turned out to be a finely worked shukusen, in finest Yamani steel with the Queenscove arms, which made Yuki quite tearful and necessitated careful dabbing by Cricket to save her face-paint. The mutual exchange of weaponry by two of the least warlike people Kel knew struck her as far more ironic than her understanding with Wyldon, but in Yamani terms the coincidence of gifts was a good sign—one of the occasions when they said Lord Sakuyo was favouring you with a benign joke. Moved by an impulse she didn't entirely understand but felt it wise to honour, Kel slipped away to Cricket's rooms—in so far as her outfit allowed her to slip anywhere—and lit an incense-stick at the portable shrine the Princess maintained in thanks for delivery from the marriage arranged for her before the emperor decided she must replace the late Princess Chisokami in binding the Yamani–Tortallan treaty. In the islands Kel had loved stories of Sakuyo's jokes, and lighting the incense after murmuring a short prayer for Neal's and Yuki's happiness felt a welling peace that left her breathless. She peered suspiciously at the shrine with its smiling figure of the god amid shide and braided shimenawa, but a sharp call from Yuki recalled her to duty and she set the puzzle aside.

The wedding went without a hitch, and indrawn breaths from the packed assembly as Yuki walked into the fort's Mithran temple, Kel and Shinko bearing flowers behind her, were very satisfactory. Keiichi, an impressive figure in dress samurai kimonos, unarmoured but wearing both swords, waited to claim Yuki's hand and pass it to Neal, proclaiming their parents' consent and the emperor's blessings in the high imperial mode Kel hadn't heard in years. Vows were spoken in Yamani and Tortallan, and if Neal's accent was execrable he did get words and grammar correct. Catching Keiichi's eye as the intent groom just avoided swearing stability rather than fidelity she had to bite her cheek, and from Keiichi's stillness thought he too was having difficulty maintaining decorum. Then it was done, marigold necklaces exchanged, fire lit, and a demonstrative Tortallan kiss exchanged. She fell in with Dom behind Roald and Shinko, accepting his arm and feeling hot flesh beneath his fine broadcloth tunic.

As soon as they were outside she had to trot after Yuki to watch a flock of maids help her friend exchange white kimonos for others in Queenscove colours, befitting her new status and avoiding the ill fortune of wearing white to another's wedding. Despite the mock-protests of her friends and its use in concealing blushes, Kel took the chance to remove her face-paint and the enhancements to eyes and lips that made her feel fraudulent. Then it was back to the temple to see Raoul in best Goldenlake finery and Buri in her splendid K'miri outfit claim one another as if no-one else existed in the world, which Kel thought an achievement with Thayet ten feet away, radiant with joy for her friend. And finally there was food by the bushel and drink by the gallon, the Own's cooks showing themselves more than equal to Corus delicacies and clearly possessed of excellent contacts among locals who fished the Vassa for its large and succulent bream.

Kel was indeed seated next to Keiichi, who greeted her solemnly but with twinkling eyes in that high imperial mode.

"Keladry-sama. It is my honour to meet again the valiant daughter of your most honourable mother. My Imperial Master commands me to convey to you his personal congratulations on your achievement of knighthood." Slipping into the familiar mode between friends he added, "And had He known of it, I am sure He would have added His admiration for your more recent exploit, which I shall report to Him."

Surprised by Keiichi's high honorific and touched the emperor would bother himself with

pleasantries, though she knew it was a tribute more to her mother than herself, Kel summoned her memory of the proper reply in such a matter to a ranking samurai scholar-diplomat.

"Keiichi-sensei, this fortunate person is overwhelmed by the honour of His Imperial Majesty's most gracious notice and begs you will forgive her deficiencies in responding." With relief she let herself follow him into the familiar. "Which you'll have to do anyway, Keiichi-san, as while I don't in the least mind keeping up your pretence of such dreadful ignorance I haven't used the high mode for more than ten years."

He let a smile show. "Am I not a most shameful brother-in-law? It was just that Nealan greeted me in such fine Yamani I hadn't the heart to tell him he need not torture himself with our absurd language."

"Oh, was that it? Yuki-chan thought you merely wished to avoid all the dull people with whom you would otherwise have had to make polite small talk in a barbarian tongue."

"That too, of course. Though you may find it of use yourself given the portly gentleman on your other side. He is some relation of Lord Raoul's, I believe, who does not entirely approve of foreigners."

Kel had no idea who the man was, and as he omitted to introduce himself when she sat she was happy to return the favour and stay in Yamani for a pleasant conversation with Keiichi. He knew she'd known Neal for a long time and discreetly sought impressions, moved, Kel thought, by genuine concern for his sister's happiness; he also quizzed her about her sudden fame, and in return gave news of all kinds from the Islands. Although he was eight years older than Yuki he'd been very protective of her as a child, and Kel had always liked him for that as well as himself, so her evening was enjoyable. Even the speeches weren't bad, especially as she was mercifully spared any such duties herself—though she was mentioned by both Neal, who looked dazed with happiness and relief, as the person who first made him appreciate Yamani culture and warned him of how their poetry differed from Tortallan romanticism, and a beaming Raoul as the finest, not to say only, matchmaking squire he'd ever had. Both regretted the absence of the Lioness, as knight master and best friend, but she hadn't been able to leave Frasrlund.

Quite how people managed it after such a meal Kel wasn't sure, but speeches were followed by hours of dancing before the retirement of the newlyweds to their bridebeds, accompanied by raucous and indecent encouragements. Having endured stiff or simpering congratulations on her heroism from assorted people she didn't know, who seemed far more curious about the oddity of a Lady Knight than interested in what she'd actually done, she cornered Dom and despite the difficulties of moving in kimonos managed one dance with him, enjoying his scent and the hand resting at her waist as they rounded the floor. But she saw his attention stray to an hourglass blonde flirting indiscriminately and let him go with a pang, slipping out of the messhall in the hope of finding a seamstress or someone else competent to help her shed and fold the kimonos.

She was in luck, and touched to discover Yuki had provided rigid panniers in which her new best clothing could be properly packed. After reverting to shirt and breeches Kel took the panniers to her room and considered going to bed, but decided her full stomach called for a turn along the walls. The night was as balmy as the north ever became, and though the moon was only a sliver the stars were bright and light spilled from many windows with sounds of good cheer. Softly greeting the sentries she climbed to the alure and had worked her way round two walls when she found Daine with a bird whose rippled plumage made Kel think of treebark. Uncertain she hesitated, but Daine glanced up and beckoned her on.

"It's alright, Kel. He doesn't mind."

She went forward. "What is he?"

"Nighthawk. He was out after moths and stopped to say hello."

Tentatively Kel extended a hand to stroke the bird's head, finding the feathers softer than those of sparrows. "He's very handsome."

"Flatterer. You'll give him ideas."

The bird flew off, revealing surprisingly long wings, and Daine turned amused eyes on

Kel.

"Given your arms, there's someone else you should meet, if you can wait a moment. I sensed him a little while back."

She took a thick cloth from her waist, wrapping it around her forearm, and closed her eyes, extending her arm. Kel could hear nothing beyond familiar insect noises and the faint murmur of the Vassa but after a moment a tremendous white shape ghosted soundlessly from the darkness to perch on Daine's improvised guard with thickly feathered feet, talons flexing. Great yellow eyes considered Kel from amid pure white plumage before turning to the Wildmage, who raised her hand to stroke the owl's face softly. Kel found she was holding her breath.

"Hello, wing-brother. How goes your hunting?"

The reply must have been satisfactory, for Daine went on to explain that Kel's arms included an owl. The puzzle of what understanding even this magnificent a bird might have of heraldry seemed unimportant when the owl again regarded her unblinkingly.

"He approves. You should stroke his cheek. He likes that."

Hesitantly, not so much for the hooked bill as in delighted wonder, Kel did and the owl leaned into her caress before Daine launched him into darkness. Eyes shining, Kel laid her hand on the Wildmage's arm.

"Thank you. That was … special."

"The pleasure's mine. I've always liked owls. They have clear minds."

They leaned together companionably in a crenel, looking out to the forest. There was a pensive expression on Daine's face.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

"Oh, just marriages. Since Numair and I were wed three years back we've both wanted children, but there was that trip to Carthak with Kally, and by the time we were back this war was beginning. It's frustrating, and today's made me fret on it. My Ma's getting impatient too. She gave me one of those looks when I told her at Samradh I'd be here today and asked her blessing." Daine grinned wickedly. "She's supposed to be a goddess of pregnancy and childbed but she seems to reckon that includes what comes first. She always liked a good gossip."

Kel shook her head, smiling, though inwardly she was embarrassed. "And I thought it was strange when Numair said he'd met Lord Gainel at his in-laws."

Daine grinned again. "Only once, when we were godknapped during the Immortals War. He's been using that line ever since." She gurgled a laugh. "He's more cautious these days, though. He tried it during that eternal Progress on some old biddy who was boring him and got

treated to an account of every dream she'd ever had before he could escape. I passed that story on to Da and he said Gainel thought it was funny too. What is it, Kel?"

"Sorry, I'm just thinking about gods and how you and Numair are so familiar with them." Kel waved a hand. "I've never had any magic and though I always honour Lord Mithros and the Goddess, and Lord Sakuyo, I never felt or experienced anything strange." She turned, taking a deep breath and letting her eyes wander over the familiar order of the fort. "And it was important that I didn't. Everyone knew the Lioness was god-touched and I wasn't. And that was fine, a kind of honesty—what I achieved was through my own sweat. Even the Chamber didn't seem strange, really—it was supposed to give you visions, and when the Nothing Man became a recurring dream it was just more of the same. But then I met Irnai and found out it wasn't just the Chamber but Lord Gainel and Shakith. And today when I lit a stick of incense to Lord Sakuyo for Yuki's and Neal's happiness, I felt … I don't know, a sudden peacefulness that wasn't quite me."

Daine's voice was wry. "Gods are unsettling, right enough, never mind having your Ma turn into one. They're nothing like as perfect as they think either, even the Great Gods. At least my Ma remembers what hunger's like, and living with folk who scorn you. The Great Gods have never been mortal and they've no more humanity than your Chamber. Shakith I've only seen once, not to speak to, but Gainel … well, he's the best of them like that. It's the foot he has in Chaos, I suppose, and the time he spends in mortal heads. Still"—she took Kel's hand, squeezing —"you're probably right you've caught their attention now, if you hadn't before, and that's uncomfortable. I won't say you should trust them—they'll do what they think needs done and mortals get hurt in the process. So do the People. But I think just now they're … on your side. And that you should keep on just as you are." She sighed, letting Kel's hand go. "Da says even they don't know what's going to happen but something is, connected with the war that changes what comes after, and until it does everything's in what he calls flux. But the Badger said he was pleased about you killing Blayce, and others too, so while gods are no better at gratitude than griffins I guess you have favours owing. Just be careful what you pray for."

Kel blinked. "Huh. Honours in Corus and favours from gods. I was just looking out for my people, Daine, not looking for rewards."

Daine smiled. "I know, but there's no more refusing gods' generosity than their anger. And they can do things no-one else can. It's fair useful sometimes."

And with that disturbing but hopeful thought Kel had to be content.

She had the next day to see Cricket, Keiichi, her mother, and Raoul. Her former knight master might have used noble privilege to marry but couldn't leave the fort without a commander, so Buri would stay at Steadfast in his enlarged quarters and, though she'd resigned command of the Queen's Riders, act as co -ordinator for Rider groups sent north. Kel had hoped to spend time with Dom also, but he and his squad, with Balim's, had headed out shortly after dawn, with throbbing heads, to investigate a frantic report of a tauros attack further west. Disturbed by the news, Kel managed to lunch with Yuki and Neal, who had a week's leave before he was due to return to New Hope, while Yuki would go to Corus for Roald's and Shinko's marriage. What came after was moot, but to Kel's pleased surprise she found Yuki wanted to join Neal at New Hope. Giving Kel a newly knowing look she said she found marriage agreed with her and hadn't wedded Neal only to live apart from him.

Not for the first time Kel thought she really didn't want to imagine her best friends in that way, especially with news of a tauros in her mind, but also felt the familiar ache of her own frustrations and growing regret for the possibilities she had sacrificed for knighthood. The sense of being isolated in chastity had never bothered her as page or squire, even when Cleon made clumsy jokes before her jousts about dying a virgin, and she'd expected to sleep with him sooner or later; but it hadn't happened, she'd lost her feelings for him as those for Dom grew stronger, and his arranged marriage to Ermelian of Aminar in April had separated them permanently. Now, as she saw her friends' happiness, hands lingering in touches as strangely intimate as they were public, and thought about the marriages of her yearmates that were sure to follow, she began to understand more clearly the kind of sorrow lonely nights would become. There was, she couldn't help feeling, too much truth in the old verse her father liked quoting in difficult negotiations: The toad beneath the harrow knows / where every separate tooth-point goes; / the butterfly upon the road / preaches contentment to that toad. As a dreaming ten-year-old she hadn't known what she was surrendering but today knowledge pressed. Annoyed with self-pity she took herself off to find Tobe and pack, thinking that while she might not have had the fun of conceiving him—whatever it was like—or the burden of carrying him, she already had, to all intents and purposes, a ten-year-old son.

On the following day, having made farewells and wondering how long it might be before she saw Keiichi again, the ride to Mastiff with Owen, Esmond, Seaver, and Faleron as well as Tobe, Jump, and her sparrows was peaceful. Arriving as dusk faded into night she was concerned to see considerable bustle around the refugees' tents and within the fort, but when she strode to his office, abandoning Peachblossom and the animals to Tobe, Wyldon was talking calmly to a burly, fair-haired man of about thirty whom she didn't know.

"Ah, Mindelan, you're back." Punctilious as ever he rose to greet her, as did the other. "I don't believe you've met Sir Rannac of Greendale. He's come in as my second and patrol captain here, replacing poor Sir Berrinol." Wyldon's former second had died in the battle on the day after Kel's attack at Rathhausak. "Greendale, this is Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, commanding at New Hope and ranking officer of the district after myself and Goldenlake."

The man offered a heelclick with a bow, and a calloused hand. "Lady Knight. I'm honoured to meet you. Your report made the best reading I've had in a while, and I offer my sincere congratulations and thanks for killing that mage. I was at Northwatch before being posted here and we lost a lot of good men to those gods-cursed killing devices."

Wyldon's eyes flickered disapproval of the profanity but Kel could detect nothing but professional courtesy and genuine gratitude and took the hand willingly. Greendale was east of Goldenlake, on the Drell, and while its politics were conservative she didn't recall any of its knights or nobles among her challengers during the Progress.

"Sit, sit." Wyldon waved her to a chair. "All went well at Steadfast? And all quiet there

now?"

"It did, my Lord—a fine occasion—and I delivered your letters. The Queen was there, supporting Commander Turiakom, as well as the Prince and Princess, and much to my surprise my mother, so I had a good time. And yes, all was quiet when I left, militarily, but yesterday there was a report of a tauros attack further west. They're investigating."

"A tauros attack? Mithros. Where did one of those horrors spring from?" Wyldon frowned distaste for the compulsively and violently libidinous immortals. "Let's hope it proves a false alarm. We haven't had a tauros this far north for a while. But I'll draw up a warning notice for our civilians, Greendale, and we'd best get women and girls behind the walls as soon as we can. Post additional sentries at the treeline tonight and make sure all company captains are aware of this

news." His brow furrowed. "Tauros hoofprints are distinctive but few men will have seen one. We must make sure everyone brushes up on immortal fieldsign."

Sir Rannac nodded and Wyldon turned to Kel.

"Please do the same with Frasrlund and Company Eight, Mindelan, and both building teams. The eastern team reached New Hope the day after you left and the startled report their leader sent me bore out all you said about what you'd managed there. I'd already been considering letting the volunteer refugees go—a fellow called Adner's been rightly insistent about recovering as much crop as possible—and that report decided me. Civilians will be at least as safe behind that glacis you've got as outside the walls here, so I told Fanche and Saefas yesterday the adults who wanted to help build and farm could go as soon as you were back. That's the bustle I expect you saw."

Kel had been prepared to make exactly those arguments about crops and safety, and was delighted to find herself anticipated.

"Thank you, my Lord. The eastern team and a hundred plus civilians will make a big difference." She didn't doubt more would volunteer but there were children to care for.

Wyldon nodded. "Yes. And we'll be able to get all remaining here inside the walls. There's no sign of Scanrans but I've never been happy to have so many in tents. And with even a hint of a tauros, that doubles."

Appreciating Wyldon's priorities and lack of complaint about having his well-ordered military command set about with hordes of children for weeks on end, Kel met his eyes as she nodded, conveying her thanks.

"I couldn't agree more, my Lord. As soon as the walls and gatehouse are done, I'll make the cookhouse, barracks, and stables priorities. Then we can take the children back and relieve you of their care. But we will need food, I'm afraid. A lot of crops were trampled and though we should get a second lot in, we'll not have half what I was hoping for."

"Fair enough, Mindelan. The quartermasters know that and the livestock recovered from Haven is doing well enough, so you'll have that as well as whatever game you bring in."

"And kitchen-garden stuff, my Lord. We've already planted one at New Hope. It's bulk foods and staples we'll lack, though Geraint did manage to recover some grain and rice from Haven."

"Understood." He frowned suddenly. "We'll need to think about your immortals, though. The basilisks can find stone enough, I dare say, but Vanget said he'd had enquiries from ogres and centaurs who've had problems with Maggur's men. You look pleased."

"I am, my Lord. I've spoken at length with the Wildmage about the set-up at Dunlath, and I don't see why we can't make it work too. I'm hoping anyone—any being—who comes will be willing to fight, if only to protect themselves. But immortal refugees are still refugees, and the treaties mean we owe them protection, so I believe it's my job as well as our advantage to recruit all I can."

"Hmmph. Well said. I only hope you feel that way when, what's her name, Quenuresh turns up."

"It's agreed?" Kel nearly kept her voice level.

"She has. Food for thought, eh? General Vanget and the King will be wanting regular

reports on how that works out or doesn't, gods forfend. Which reminds me I have your spellmirror. It's set for Northwatch and here, and Vanget or I can bring in His Majesty by fire if needed."

Kel digested this. "Sir Neal's not back for another week. Can one of Company Eight's mages activate it for me?"

"Yes, anyone with the Gift can and needn't stay." His fingers drummed on his desk. "I shall come with you to New Hope tomorrow. I'm meeting Vanget at Giantkiller the evening after to decide what we do there and I want to see that glacis for myself."

Kel nodded, surprised. "Very well, my Lord."

"Mmm." Wyldon seemed to reach a decision. "Greendale, would you excuse us? Get started on the tauros warnings and post those extra sentries. I'll join you shortly."

"At once, my Lord."

As the door closed behind him Wyldon gazed at her with a wry smile. "The thing is, Keladry, you've set us by the ears again. No, no, it's nothing bad. The opposite, really. Giantkiller's supposed to screen New Hope, as well as defending the Brown River valley, but from descriptions of your glacis they're more likely to find themselves falling back on you if things go badly." He shook his head admiringly. "It's Goldenlake's rule about changing odds you don't like, isn't it? And you didn't like the best odds we could offer you and your people. Astonishing. But having a fortification that strong in the Greenwoods valley changes the balance that made us build Giantkiller in the first place."

Thoroughly alarmed Kel sat very straight. "Wyldon, I'll still be relying on civilians to man my parapets. Are you proposing to transfer all the companies earmarked for Giantkiller to New Hope?"

"Mithros, no." His face went thoughtful. "Not yet, anyway. Could you take them?"

Kel thought about space. "Yes, just. But that many extra barracks and stables would double the buildings we'd need."

"Mmm. I'm not sure it's an option. Covering Riversedge and Tirrsmont from there would be a problem and we need a central fort closer to the Vassa. But if Giantkiller faces attack in force you'll be the nearest refuge. And ours from here, come to that, so I have to see the place for myself."

That Kel understood: no commander could rely on the unknown. "Will General Vanget come on to New Hope from Giantkiller?"

"I suspect so. He's been wanting to meet you properly and doesn't often get away from Northwatch." Wyldon gave a slight smile. "If things stay reasonably quiet and we don't get early snow you'll have other visitors in September as well. The King's agreed the Prince and Princess will visit New Hope after their wedding."

Kel's eyes widened. "Really? Cricket didn't say anything. Nor Roald."

"Cricket?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Princess Shinkokami. It was her childhood nickname and Yuki and I still

use it."

"I didn't realise you knew her that well. Interesting. And I doubt she or the Prince yet know themselves. It won't be announced until the last minute." He regarded her curiously. "It's a political decision, of course. Your report was very well received by the whole of Corus, I understand. Do you object?"

Kel thought about it. "No, not at all. I rather like it, actually. And I think the refugees will too." She hesitated, but they'd touched on this ground before. "I'm not sure His Majesty would get such a warm reception. The Tirrsmonters don't feel too good about the nobility in general and the King's the only authority that could overrule their liege-lord, but hasn't."

"That's understandable." Wyldon's hand clenched. "That man's a disgrace to all of us and if I'd been burned or raided out I don't think I'd be interested in explanations of why we can't do anything about his bl—his incompetence. I'm sorry—Greendale's setting me a bad example."

Kel looked at him affectionately. "I've heard worse, Wyldon. Even said worse myself, occasionally. And Mithros knows I've nothing but hard words for Tirrsmont." She raised an eyebrow. "Was it going to be 'bloody' or 'blasted'?"

He huffed a little, then smiled, at himself as much as her. "The latter. It's not because you're a woman, you know. I dislike all profanity. Always have. My knight master was too often a foul-mouthed man and I vowed I would not follow his example in that regard."

If Kel remembered rightly Squire Wyldon's master had been Sir Everhart of Haryse, whose prose was certainly choleric.

"That must have been miserable for you."

He shrugged. "Done and dusted long ago. You should eat and sleep if we're off at the crack tomorrow. Was there anything else?"

She thought. "One thing, maybe. I wasn't going to say anything yet, but I've been trying to absorb the, um, divine interest there seems to be in events here. And one conclusion I reached was that I want a temple at New Hope, or at least proper shrines."

"That seems wise. To Mithros and the Goddess?"

"Yes, but perhaps others as well. Shakith and Lord Gainel don't usually have shrines but I wondered if it might be wise to honour them somehow." She hesitated, then pushed resolutely on. Wyldon would not laugh at anything divine. "And Daine was telling me about her parents.

Apparently Lords Weiryn and Gainel are friends." His mouth quirked with her own. "I know. But I was thinking shrines to Weiryn and the Green Lady might be, um, a good investment. We're in hunting country, needing game, and with the number of young women among the refugees we're bound to have midwifery problems."

"Mmm. Yes, that sounds wise too, Keladry. But forgive me, how does it concern us

now?"

"Well, I was wondering if the Prince and Princess might bring a senior divine for a dedication." She gave him back a wry smile. "If we can stage the ceremony at Mabon and Daine's there, who knows what other guests might come?"

He stared. "Setting the gods as well as us by the ears. Huh. I'll pass the idea along. And it's hardly a request the Archdivines of Mithros and the Goddess could refuse." To her surprise he sat back, smiling as widely as she'd ever seen. "You really are a remarkable young woman, Keladry, and I'm most impressed with how you quickly you're learning to think politically on top

of everything else. The royal visit was Goldenlake's idea, a good one, but you've refined it." He looked at her consideringly. "You realise it will compound your personal fame considerably?"

She flushed. "That's not my intent."

"Oh I realise that, or I'd not have asked. But a first visit by the heir after his marriage, with our future queen, in acknowledgement of heroism by a personal friend of both in saving children and ending the killing devices, as well as properly thanking the gods—who are already known to have blessed you as Protector of the Small? People want good news from this war, and that's going to qualify in spades."

Kel sat speechless, and when she did speak her voice was subdued. "I hadn't thought of it like that at all. I just want my people to survive whatever it is that's coming, and not thanking the gods when we know they're watching doesn't seem right."

"Just so. And the more celebrated you and your people are, the more the Crown will feel obliged to ensure you have the resources you need. It's a virtuous circle, Keladry, and you seem to be learning it instinctively, in the best way." Wyldon paused, seeming to debate with himself, then shrugged. "Frankly, for better or worse you've been a symbol for many people ever since you started as a page. And you've handled it exceptionally well, mostly by not realising your own potency. But you were always going to have to come to terms with your political status, and that you've proven yourself a first-rate commander at a time when we need such people desperately only makes that more urgent. If you want advice, don't fret about it and do keep on just as you were."

She glared. "Easier said than done."

He chuckled. "I know. But I've learned to have faith in you, and everything's easier on a full stomach and a good night's sleep. I imagine King's Reach and the others will have found the food I told the cooks to keep back. Jesslaw certainly will have, and you should too. I'll walk you over and greet them before I go to Greendale. Come."

The horses and ponies from Rathhausak meant all adult refugees coming to New Hope—nearly one-hundred-and-fifty, including most of the Scanrans—could be mounted, and they took the courier trail in a half-mile column, armed squads at point and rearguard but no scouts save for sparrows. Kel rode behind Wyldon in the van, admiring his warhorse, but though she was pleased to lead the refugees back to a new, safer home her mind was chewing Wyldon's words and the bizarre dance of politics her straightforward actions seemed to generate.

She couldn't pretend unfamiliarity with the phenomenon. Her dream had been to be a knight, adventurously helping people, not to set the realm ablaze with extremities of praise and censure; but it happened anyway before she had the slightest awareness of it. Joren and Vinson had come to loathe her personally but they'd hated her before they'd ever seen her, as The Girl and, absurdly, a symbol of everything their fathers disliked about events older than she was—as had all the tedious, mostly third-rate knights who'd challenged her during the Progress. Her only response had been to be herself, letting hostility bounce off her Yamani mask and never complaining. It had served her well as Raoul's squire, riding with the Own, and she'd hoped when she finally passed her Ordeal to return to the relative anonymity of muddy, happy service among Third Company's ranks. A part of her been cautious, remembering Raoul's intimations of

command, girls who'd watched her joust, and the Lioness's flattering words on the night after her Ordeal about the example she'd set, but she hadn't begun to imagine the situation she found herself in. Still worse was divine attention and she couldn't wholly suppress resentful indignation at the turnaround it represented. The Lioness had walked with the Goddess to marvellous purpose, and within Kel the girl who'd dreamed of emulating her rejoiced at the idea of truly doing so—but Alanna had had a divine guide and her formidable Gifts as warmage and healer, and Kel was less than amused to find she was expected to endure similar difficulties with neither.

But resentment got her nowhere and induced a sense of shame at impiety into the bargain. Thayet's and her mother's reactions to the deal the King had made her were also unsettling, as was the strange parallel between their belief she'd sold herself short and her own conviction of having let down those in her care. How was she to know what was proper self-confidence and political assessment, and what the arrogant self-assertion she'd always hated, in this brave new world that had such problems in it? By the time they came to the gulley that led to the Greenwoods valley and passed the challenge of Brodhelm's scouts she'd decided Wyldon had again been right, and all she could sensibly do was carry on and let gods and politics do what they'd do anyway.

The courier trail came into the valley just south of the fin, so she could point out to Wyldon the corral and anticipate his reaction to first sight of New Hope as they wound back into trees for a half-mile before emerging onto greensward above the rapids. She was eager herself to see the progress and when Wyldon abruptly slowed, directing his horse to stand off the trail, she followed suit, waving the column on and ignoring the exclamations as refugees saw their new home.

The sight was all she could have hoped for. With a second building team at work even the five days she'd been away had seen dramatic transformation. The outer wall was complete, base bristling with the heavy, close-set spikes of an abatis that gleamed with the sharp edges of obsidian, captured Scanran banners that had hung from Haven's walls standing out colourfully; along the western face the inner wall was beginning to rise, extending from the heavy timbers of a gatehouse. At the junction of the walls the outline of the tower was visible, and distant hammering and sawing could be heard. On the glacis work parties secured by ropes were packing and smoothing mud, while a basilisk—Var'istaan, she thought, from its size—was petrifying dried rendering, careful movement in a rope cradle punctuated by rumbling echoes of the rock spell. Other parties were digging out the moat, which extended along most of the western face; working on the roadway to the ford; and, with glimmering magecraft and the occasional sound of St'aara shaping stone with a spell that sounded like a gravel, on the central arch of the stone bridge that now all but spanned the Greenwoods.

Further up the valley the walls of Haven had disappeared with most of the buildings, leaving the burned -out infirmary and one work party strangely visible. Those timbers would have to go, Kel decided instantly, and had a sudden vision of how they could be used to surround the mass grave at the centre of the knoll, where the flagpole still stood. A swirl of breeze showed her her own flag at half-mast, and she felt a rush of gratitude to Geraint and his men, who honoured the ground they trod even as they reclaimed all they could. Wyldon followed her gaze.

"Your orders?"

"Not specifically, but I told Geraint about the grave, and that we'd make the knoll New Hope's burial ground."

He nodded again. "More good thinking, Mindelan. And by Legann. But that"—he gestured towards New Hope and its glacis—"is astonishing." He looked at her intently, then at the busy scene below where the squad on point and the first refugees were crossing the ford, slowing

to examine the bridge and talk to the work party. "Godfrey of Carent, who leads the eastern building team, said flat out this place would be harder to take than Northwatch, but I didn't believe him. Nor Harailt, for all he described it accurately. Foolish of me. Tell me again how this was done?"

She described the co-operation, Numair and Harailt lifting and shaping heaped stone section by section, as a child shapes sand, and the basilisks, boosted by power stored in black opals Numair provided, roaring overlapping spells that fused rocks for hundreds of feet into the pile while everyone kept their distance, sheltered from the echoing spells by mages of Company Eight.

"Huh. Remarkable, and important. Is a black-robe mage necessary, do you think?"

"No. Without Numair we'd have needed far more mages, I suppose, but if you were bringing in well-broken rock, rather than reshaping a mound already there, you could build up from the ground, bucket by bucket. It'd be slower but if you had the basilisks you'd hardly need any other magecraft at all."

His eyebrows lifted. "So you wouldn't. When word gets round basilisks are going to find themselves in demand. Did it exhaust them?"

"Not really. Tire them, yes, but the rock-spell and its variants don't seem to use up their magic as they would for mortal mages. Or perhaps they have so much any depletion didn't show." She looked at him. "I've been chary about asking that sort of thing directly but it's on my list of questions. I did discover from Tkaa that the male, Var'istaan, on the glacis, is courting St'aara, on the bridge. Her son Amiir'aan will be working on the surfaces within the walls, I expect—he can do the spell perfectly, but can't cover the same sort of area."

Wyldon's face was unreadable. "The adult basilisks are courting?"

"So Tkaa said. Or deciding if they're going to court. Basilisks mate for life, apparently, so as they're immortal they don't choose fast. He also said Amiir'aan's father was killed more than a century ago, in the Divine Realms, but wouldn't say how, only that St'aara might be ready to court again and would certainly be considering her son's needs. I was surprised because I was thinking of Amiir'aan as pretty young, given his size, and hadn't quite equated that with 'only in his second century'."

He blinked. "You're serious?"

"Entirely. Daine says it's the same with dragons and they aren't regarded as adults until they reach their twenty-first century. It puts things in perspective, rather." She carefully kept a straight face without resorting to her Yamani mask. "Tkaa's in his four-thousands, and travelled the mortal realms extensively before the Human Era began. St'aara and Var'istaan are both an epoch or so younger."

She saw Wyldon's lips twitch. "Such precision, Mindelan. If Tkaa would co-operate, or other immortals under treaty, perhaps we should have it as a question for the Big Tests. 'Estimate the age of this being to the nearest epoch.'"

Kel let a grin show. "I'm not sure Lord Padraig would appreciate the answers, Cavall." His lips twitched again. "And there's another side to it." She sobered as the last refugees and rearguard cantered past. "We know spidrens grow and breed the fastest of any immortal but Daine says they also have the shortest life expectancy. If they don't kill one another competing for food and mates they get themselves killed by mortals for the same reasons. Like young centaur bucks trying to get gifts to win mares, I suppose, but worse. I thought it was interesting both St'aara and

Quenuresh want somewhere safe for their young."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. I don't mean to embarrass you, but did they know of you as Protector of the Small?"

"Var'istaan did. He mentioned it." Even to herself her voice sounded resigned to the Chamber's unwieldy label. When did that happen? "I don't know about Quenuresh."

"Hmm. It's a point to bear in mind. I don't believe we've ever seen the young of different immortals interacting—even at Dunlath."

They set off again, catching the guards and rearmost refugees at the ford. Kel made a point of introducing Wyldon to St'aara, thanking her as well as the party from the building team for their work—an easy task as the bridge was decidedly impressive, with the keystone of the final, central arch just emplaced. The senior builder backed her up with equal sincerity, explaining that the basilisks' ability to shape limestone blocks far faster than masons could manage and bond the voussoirs of each arch as soon as they were in physical contact had enabled them to dispense with a form as well as slow-drying mortar, turning a month's work into a week's. Wyldon was his punctilious self in greeting and thanking all, and Kel knew the refugees lingering to listen were absorbing their example.

Splashing up the far bank they trotted behind the rearguard towards the base of the glacis, greeting the parties heaping and grading the roadway or laying flagstones. When they came to the bridge over the moat Wyldon again reined in, staring at the stone-lined trough studded with sharpened stakes that gleamed like the abatis. Petrified spoil was steeply piled on the outer side, increasing the difficulty of crossing it. Kel halted Peachblossom beside Wyldon's horse, then kept pace as he moved on slowly, looking carefully about as they rounded the sharp corner and began to mount the glacis. The drop on the outer side grew as the warhorses' heavily shod hooves rang on the stone.

"We paved the roadway with a thin layer of petrified mud straight away for safety, but the bridge party's next priority will be a series of traps right along here. Pits six feet deep and twelve long, across the full width, staked, with cross-supports mined with mageblasts to support wooden roadway over them. I've also wondered about blazebalm with mageblasts to fire it along the inner wall."

Wyldon winced but nodded. "The whole thing will be a killing field."

"It has to be. There'll be a pit within the gatehouse too. And I shall certainly be following the example of the younger Lord Grogar with bags of rocks suspended from the merlons. Thank you for putting me on to Orchan, by the way."

He nodded acknowledgement, gesturing ahead to where the last refugees were vanishing from sight. "I saw you'd taken his advice about turn, narrow, and rise. You've improved on him, though. I can hardly begin to calculate what would be needed to assault this place."

Kel never stopped such calculations. "Magery. Failing that, mangonels or trebuchets, giants, anything with wings, and a force sufficiently large and disciplined to take heavy casualties and keep coming. Or enough beserkir. Fire too—but the walls will be stone and I'm hoping for stone roofs on every building."

He blinked and stared. "Too heavy, surely?"

"Not with stone pillars. The basilisks' rock spell is very precise and directional when they want it to be. Build in wood, petrify selectively."

"Mithros. You are thinking well." He rubbed his forehead as if to clear it. "Anything else up your sleeve?"

"Mined rockfalls around the valley, especially above the road north. It might be possible to knock out siege engines before they arrived; even a command or mage group. And whatever else I can think of or comes to hand. Centaurs could shoot and run from the trees, or sally from the corral. I'm not sure what ogres can do but if Quenuresh proves willing there have to be all sorts of uses for spidren webbing—bundles of it stored on the alures to drop on attackers to start with. Cases of griffin-fletched arrows there too, and griffin -feather bands to cancel illusion spells. I still have most of the feathers I was given for raising that little monster I was idiot enough to rescue at Owlshollow."

"Huh. I'd forgotten about that."

"Lucky you. The scars on my hands remind me every day."

Making the sharp turn where the roadway narrowed they breasted the steep rise and the noise of carpentry abruptly increased. A score of men were labouring within the framing timbers of the gatehouse, floors taking shape. Geraint, working one end of a large saw, waved swift greeting but didn't stop, and they rode through the forest of timbers to the broad shelf, New Hope spread before them. Wyldon would have reined in again but the noise was too loud for conversation and at Kel's gesture he followed her down the path to the main level. Some buildings were only foundations but to their left the messhall lacked only a roof and along the fin stables, a headquarters building, and eight barracks had begun to rise, parties working on all of them. Commissariat wagons defined a central eating area, and tenting to one side dormitories and latrines; wagons that must have come with the eastern building team stood in rows, laden with seasoned timber. Horses were neatly picketed along the foot of the eastern shelf, hay spread before them, and refugees and guards were gathered in a knot around Brodhelm. Seeing them approach he pushed towards them as they dismounted.

"My Lord, my Lady. You travelled safely?"

After a fractional glance at Wyldon, who merely nodded, Kel answered. She commanded

here.

"We did, thank you, Brodhelm. All's well? You've done wonders."

"No problems, my Lady, nor any sign of Scanrans. And it's been Masters Geraint's and Godfrey's men who've done wonders. Godfrey's at Haven, supervising the last dismantling, but he'll be back soon. Do you have orders for these new hands, my Lady?

'I do, Brodhelm. Let's take care of that now." Many refugees had followed the captain anyway and Kel could see Saefas pushing towards her with a fierce look. "It won't take a minute."

"Lady Kel." She thought Saefas might have embraced her had Lord Wyldon not been there and found herself clapped heartily on the arm. "We don't know how you did this but it's a wonder."

"And a comfort, I hope. But as you see there's a lot of work still to do." She raised her voice to cut through banging and rasping from the barracks. "People, listen up. Right now the weather's dry, which is good as none of us have a roof to sleep under. That has to be fixed, but your priority is crops. Adner, as soon as everyone's eaten take whoever you need and get to it. What equipment do we still have, what do we lack, and what are the urgent tasks? Assign work parties as you will, and if there's anything you need that someone else has, ask Captain Brodhelm

here or Master Geraint, who's working on the gatehouse, or Master Godfrey, who's over at Haven. Questions?"

Adner shook his head. "No, Lady Kel. I'll know by this evening exactly what we'll need for tomorrow."

"Good. Tell us all when we eat. Anyone Adner doesn't need, now or tomorrow, you're building. The only exception is Zerhalm and anyone he picks to help with horses. All others, unless someone in authority asks you to work on the walls or glacis, you're on barracks and stables. Captain Brodhelm will introduce you to the foremen here on the main level. Work to your strengths but take direction from them—they're very experienced—and if you really think someone's missing a trick, ask politely. They're interested in getting it done, I've found, not ignoring good ideas. All clear?"

It was, and she held up a hand.

"Security. Before anyone does anything, even Adner, you're all going to listen with both ears to Captain Brodhelm brief you on patrols and sentries, where's off-limits, and who needs to know where how many of you are. Everyone is counted out and back in. No arguments and no messing, or someone's in trouble." They grinned though they knew she meant it. "Next, Captain, I'm sorry to have to tell you Steadfast had a report of a tauros attack. It's not confirmed yet but we act as if it had. Warn your patrols, please, and brief everyone tonight on tauros prints and other fieldsign. No-one goes out of sight in less than a group of five with at least one steady archer and pole arms."

He nodded, grim-faced. "My Lady."

"One last thing. You all knew we had basilisks helping here and now you've seen them. The lady at the bridge is St'aara. Her son, petrifying mud over there and sneaking looks at us between times, is Amiir'aan, and he's a sweetie. The big fellow working on the glacis is Var'istaan. St'aara. Amiir'aan. Var'istaan. Remember the names and get them right, please. They're good people—good beings—and they'll be staying to make their way among us and continue helping." She surveyed them under lowered brows. "I doubt any of you need telling that arguing with a basilisk is a dumb idea, but if you have a problem, or might have a problem, or even imagine a problem you could have somewhere down the road next time there's a week of Tuesdays, you come to me, as soon as may be. I don't expect trouble, and I do think that if you'll give a seven-foot beaded lizard who's sweated hard to build this place for us all a chance, you'll find we have three immortal friends, and maybe more to come."

Their concentration was fierce and she couldn't see any dissent, though some looked more dubious than thoughtful.

"But if there is trouble, of whatever kind, you stop right there and tell the basilisk, this goes to Lady Kel, now. And if you see someone else forgetting that, remind them, as forcibly as you have to. And I'll tell you one more thing—these basilisks and other immortals who may come are refugees too. They signed treaties and kept them faithfully, and the Maggot didn't care any more than he did about your homes and families and livings. Yes, they're immortals, and sometimes they scare me too, but they're our immortals and they're going to scare Maggot a whole lot worse if he comes calling."

Ending, she felt a shiver as if someone had walked over her grave, but her line got the cheer she'd worked for, and she waved Brodhelm to carry on while collecting Wyldon with her eye. She led him to the inner corner of the main level, then down to the cavemouth where a corporal stood guard, right hand bandaged. He saluted awkwardly with the other.

"My Lord, my Lady."

"You're here in case anything comes out, Kelner?"

He nodded. "Yes, my Lady. Just to be safe, like. We've some lamps inside but haven't explored, and I cut my hand so the captain put me here today."

"Sensible. How's the hand?"

"Oh, not bad. Healer Morri just wanted it rested for a day or two because the cut was

deep."

He sounded glum and Kel clapped him on the shoulder, smiling shared frustration with healer caution before leading Wyldon through the slanting entrance to the cave. Numair's lightball had long faded but an oil lamp burned on the floor just inside with others, unlit, standing ready if needed. Kel lifted it high and saw stone spears gleam though the surface of the pool remained as dark and still as ever. Wyldon stood at her side, looking round.

"This is good, too. Water and a retreat at need." He breathed deeply, wetted a finger, and held it up, slowly turning it. "Air's moving. That's what Kelner meant about exploring?"

"Yes. The basilisks like it. Amiir'aan's done some looking and says there's a lot of cracks and little passageways. St'aara's promised they'll check it out properly as soon as the buildings are done. Meantime"—she shrugged—"there's no other cave at ground level in the valley that could connect, not that anyone can find, anyway, so it didn't seem a priority."

"Fair enough. Those stone formations are impressive."

"Yes, I've never seen the like, but Numair says they happen in big limestone caves where there's water." She angled the lamp to show the matching spears studding the roof above the pool, and smiled. "You should have seen Kitten—she made them light up with little beads of light, all spiralling round. Very pretty."

"Kitten? Oh, Veralidaine's dragonet."

"Yes." Checking Kelner hadn't followed them in she punched him lightly on the arm. "It's just Daine, Wyldon. It wouldn't kill you to say it." He looked his surprise. "She doesn't like the full form. I think it reminds her of people in Galla who'd use it with her Sarrasri surname to needle her about not having a da."

"Oh." He frowned. "I can see that. Thank you for telling me." After a moment he added with a smile, "Besides my stuffy habits I suppose I thought it an impudence to use a diminutive now she goes by Weirynsra. And while I've come to know her quite well, at the Palace and with this war, I wouldn't say we're close."

Kel smiled back gently. "Just unbend a little, if you would. She doesn't like formality any more than Raoul." He snorted. "Why not ask her about your horses and dogs sometime?"

Leading the way out, with a word to Kelner, they climbed the path and up again to the cistern and gurgling spring.

"We'll pipe water directly to infirmary and cookhouse. The slope should give us a decent feed. And the overflow trough runs through a pipe at the end of the eastern wall to supply the moat." She walked along the terrace for seventy or eighty yards to a wide, shallow bay in the cliff where the trough cut straight across, leaving an irregular crescent of unpaved scree between it and the limestone. "This is where I thought to put shrines. Niches in the rock, as in Yaman and that

cliff-temple at Port Caynn. Some woodsmen refugees are fair hands at carving."

Wyldon studied the area. "Yes again. You've an excellent eye for possibility. This whole interior layout is first-rate."

Warmed by his praise Kel smiled and they went on along the terrace, then round to the eastern shelf, where postholes marked the line of the inner wall and picketed horses looked up at them, towards the busy frame of the north tower. As the noise of hammering grew louder Wyldon turned to her.

"Let me wander on my own, Mindelan, and take it in. I appreciate your argument for alures on the outer wall but I'd like to see the angles myself. Then I want a closer look at what they're doing with that glacis."

She left him to it and after eating threw herself into work. Knowing from experience the carpenters wouldn't welcome her fumble-fingered help and mindful of Duke Baird's cautions about overworking her shoulder, she resigned herself to latrine duty, releasing a more able pair of hands, and spent a smelly hour loading the soil wagon. It wasn't dignified but after their initial surprise the Company Eight soldiers she was with began to show appreciation of a commander who didn't shirk unpopular jobs, and cajoled details of the night-attack on Rathhausak. After that she spent time with Amiir'aan, joining the men fetching and spreading mud for him to petrify into clean, flat stone and raised paths, before the return in late afternoon of Master Godfrey. He proved as pleasantly efficient as Geraint, and after offering thanks for his work and respect for the dead at Haven they had a satisfactory discussion about using timbers from the burned infirmary to frame the mass grave. Then Adner returned from inspecting fields, for once smiling. More crops might be recovered than he'd hoped and though ploughframes had burned at Haven the shares had survived, as had equipment stored in fieldsheds. He agreed with her about the bottomland north of the fin and promised to start its cultivation at once.

With everyone working all the hours of daylight time flew. Wyldon left at dawn next day for Giantkiller, accompanied by squads from Mastiff and followed down the roadway by Adner and nearly a hundred refugees intent on getting a second crop sown. Kel fell into her day's work, lugging soil buckets, fetching mud from excavation of the moat, and helping carry timbers from laden wagons to wherever they were needed. With the stone bridge complete St'aara and that party began on roadway pit-traps, half by half so people could pass. Var'istaan and other parties were busy facing the glacis but with fifty-odd additional pairs of hands—many experienced in woodwork—to help the bulk of two building teams, barracks and stables seemed to fly up and the messhall acquired a low-pitched wood-shingled roof.

Three days after leaving, Wyldon and his escort returned with General Vanget and his, and Kel had the pleasure of welcoming her superiors to a fort visibly taking proper shape. In person the haMinchi general was as cheerfully bluff as he'd been by spellmirror, full of congratulations on the rescue and building. After giving him the tour and outlining various additions to the defences she had in mind, he expressed grimmer approval and sat with her and Wyldon on the terrace by the cliffs to discuss wider strategy. Against the wishes of many, who thought it bad luck, Giantkiller was being rebuilt with an additional wall and earthworks but not enlarged, and would continue as a central shield for Riversedge and what remained of the Brown River valley population. The timber freed would be sent to her and, when possible, a second regular company and no less than eight squads of convict soldiers assembling at Steadfast.

"Frankly, Lady Knight, they're volunteering in such numbers because they've heard about you and that their predecessors who were with you in Scanra have had their magemarks cancelled, so you rightfully get 'em." Kel hadn't heard that bit of news and was viscerally pleased for the men who'd redeemed themselves so valiantly. "Use your own judgement. If you want to keep

them as loose squads, that's fine, but if you want to make a full company out of 'em, go ahead."

She thought for a moment. "Full company, sir. It'll be better for their morale."

"Well enough. Wyldon said that's what you'd choose. And if you think that fellow Uinse you praised in your report is up to it, appoint him captain. I'll confirm it. Elsewise I can send someone from Northwatch."

Very surprised at such patronage, Kel immediately opted for Uinse, whose capabilities as a leader she didn't doubt though she thought he'd need help with paperwork, and thanked General Vanget warmly.

"No, no, man's earned it by all accounts. So have you, gods know. Now, less pleasantly, I'm afraid that tauros attack west of Steadfast has been confirmed. Two women dead, poor things. And there was another east of Northwatch. One victim." He made the gods' circle on his chest and Kel followed suit, murmuring a prayer to the Black God for the lost souls and trying not to think of how they'd died. "We've also had a report from Hamrkeng that they were in Scanra, somewhere well north, but the Maggot somehow persuaded them to head down here. So there'll be more attacks for a certainty until we can kill 'em. I know the basilisks have done wonders, and we'll see what happens with that spidren when she gets here, but tauroses I cannot abide."

He scowled ferociously, a sentiment Kel shared. She'd never been able to understand why any god would create beings whose sole purpose seemed to be raping mortal women, almost always fatally, and no-one she'd met, even Numair, had an explanation either. Even stormwings, grotesque as they were, served a purpose and despite their stench and behaviour were a fiercely moral object lesson about the realities of war, however little humans heeded it. But tauroses were purely vile.

"We're also starting to see Scanran soldiers again north of the Vassa. No crossings reported yet but it's only a matter of time. Maggot's reasserted his grip, more or less. Had to do a lot of fast talking and kill at least one hostage, Sir Myles says, but if no -one's happy about it they aren't turning on him yet either. Whether he'll be able to do more than raid before the snows is a toss-up, but for sure and certain he'll be back in force in the spring, latest. So you keep right on fortifying for all you're worth, Lady Knight. Sooner or later you'll need these defences."

He ate with them that evening, listening as she updated everyone on tauros attacks and additional resources and soldiers, before giving a speech—brisk in praise of what had been achieved, unsparing in assessing continuing threats, and cheerfully blunt about how'd they'd be met. He left next morning for Northwatch, and before leaving himself for Mastiff, Wyldon, eyeing the state of barracks and stable, promised to send the remaining adult refugees, children, and livestock the following week, when Neal returned from leave.

Then it was back to her developing routine, from dawn practice and renewed weapons drills with refugees to meals in the completed messhall where she came to know the soldiers of Company Eight better. She also had discussions with the basilisks, and after careful experimentation they found that Amiir'aan's as yet low-powered rock spell, directed over a wider area, petrified only the upper quarter-inch or so of a one-inch wooden shingle. Thereafter he added the low-pitched roofs to his work-load, and the adult basilisks had no difficulty petrifying the supporting pillars to take the extra weight. The process spawned another activity, woodcarvers among refugees and building teams insisting the messhall be left for last and snatching time in the evenings to carve its pillars with simple, dramatic panels telling the tale of Haven's fall, the rescue, and New Hope's rise. Kel thought their depiction of her went beyond flattery to the absurd, but everyone was so pleased with the results, the refugees fiercely so, that she did her best to acquiesce with a smile.

By the time August began with heavy showers the glacis was fully faced and the moat complete. It took a day to fill before the last section, below the gatehouse, brimmed and the overflow began trickling along a shallow sough to the Greenwoods, but everyone was happy with the results. Inner wall, gatehouse, and north tower with its bridge were also substantially complete, and the killing field between the walls studded with petrified spikes. St'aara and the party building roadway traps were reinforced, and men from the building teams released to the remaining barracks, internal structures of headquarters, and smaller buildings—forge, woodsheds, and latrines.

News of a sizeable Scanran war band that all but besieged the soldiers working at Giantkiller until companies hastily despatched from Mastiff and Northwatch could drive them off with heavy casualties delayed the arrival of the promised column from Mastiff, but as the second week of August began horn-calls from one of Brodhelm's patrols announced them. Kel had thought carefully about how to handle the children, and while Adner and others relieved Jump and the knowing dogs of bellowing, bleating, oinking, and clucking livestock, driving some up the roadway to pens prepared in the eastern corner of the main level and others to the corral beyond the fin, she had all the refugees, the knights, Connac's squad, and the convict soldiers wait by the bridge over the moat. She spent a while greeting friends of all ages, hugging Tobe, patting Jump, and congratulating Uinse, self-conscious but proud and determined in a new uniform with captain's insignia, and once the noise of the animals abated with distance raised her hand to command silence.

Concentrating on children and dogs she gave graphic descriptions of the spikes concealed beneath the water of the moat and what they would do to anyone, two-or four-legged, who fancied a swim, then bluntly reminded women and girls about the tauros threat and laid out her standing orders about never being out of sight unless in strength and appropriately armed. Satisfied they'd absorbed the warnings, she hoisted a happy Meech to her side and walked them up the roadway, explaining the traps, emphasising the sheer drop on the outer side, and collecting the work party and St'aara as they passed. Meech peered shyly from behind her arm at the tall basilisk, and when she reached the gatehouse Kel set him down, sent the children to line up along the shelf, and used the guards' horn to stop the building work and call everyone together. Brodhelm and his sergeants, Geraint, Godfrey, and the basilisks were clearly named and layout demonstrated. Going the other way she introduced Irnai, known from her report and accompanied by the marmalade cat, with wry instructions that if anyone heard the seer say anything unusual they should pay serious attention. Then, as work resumed, she took the children and animals to the slope above the cave, assuring them they would soon be able to go in as they wished, but flatly commanding them that it was as yet unexplored and strictly off-limits.

The rest of the day was filled with happy chaos as carts were unloaded, barrack spaces claimed, and the new stables filled with horses and ponies. The piping shouts and laughter of the young, even the squabbles that broke out, and the various barks were a welcome change to Kel's ears, and next morning, with extra soldiers boosting Brodhelm's resources and supplementing work parties, she decided she'd done enough latrine duty for a bit and switched to childcare. Creating rosters for older to watch younger, a familiar routine, and recruiting Amiir'aan to help break down fear of immortals, she set them to work digging out a large, shallow pit, roughly three hundred foot square, in the centre of the main level. Basilisk -loosened scree was carried away to be piled by the inner wall, until it could be strung up in nets from the outer, and the excavated pit was gradually filled with soil and turfed with sod claimed from the field beyond the fin that Adner's teams had ploughed. One of Brodhelm's patrols was instructed to find and bring back four sturdy saplings, birch, alder, rowan, and ash, to plant in deepened corners; in the middle, where diagonal paths intersected, a circle of raised rock eventually housed a great flagpole, rising above the walls to be visible from much of the valley floor, and her flag from Haven was set flying. Archery ranges and a play area with a low fence were also established between the south-eastern side of the green and the terrace.

The arrival of Neal, Merric, and Seaver improved Kel's daily life dramatically, adding a distributed command presence that eased her workload. Uinse consolidated authority over his new company, working with Merric and Brodner, while Seaver began working with Company Eight's mages and the hedgewitches among the refugees, and Neal claimed his healer's domain in the infirmary. The knights' presence also brightened Kel's evenings with old acquaintance uncompromised by social deference or appeal to authority. Neal bemoaned separation from Yuki as during their engagement, but Kel thought marriage—and, she admitted to herself, the marriage-bed—had begun to mellow him. He'd always been kind; now he was more tolerant and while still given to dramatics somehow more relaxed even when vapouring. If her own bed remained a lonely refuge, the installation of Tobe in a small room next to her quarters, and his delight in the first private space he'd ever had, were compensations beyond measure.

There were also clerks, wonderful clerks, to inhabit the completed headquarters and begin generating the paperwork that made army quartermasters and senior sergeants happy and would ensure New Hope's smooth integration into courier and resupply systems. The spellmirror, thus far unused, was installed in a conference room near Kel's new and to her eye needlessly spacious quarters, beginning a duty of regular reports to Wyldon and occasional summons to receive news.

Ten days into this new dispensation Kel was packing turf around the rowan sapling when a hawk screamed close above. Waving and trotting to the headquarters building she climbed to her rooms and threw open her bedroom shutters. As she set out small clothes on the bed with a shirt and breeches the hawk perched on the window sill, and a moment after she'd politely withdrawn to the outer room a tousled Daine emerged, buttoning her borrowed shirt.

"Kel, I can't believe how much has been done. It's fair wonderful. But catching-up must wait. Quenuresh is here."

Kel's heart beat fiercely. "Where?"

"In that old woodland. I told her you'd come to meet her with a small party of military and civilian leaders."

"Right. Follow me."

She clattered down the stairs and strode out, Daine behind her. A passing Gydo was sent at the run to tell Adner to meet her at the moatbridge. Then she walked a quick circuit, collecting Brodhelm and Uinse for soldiers, Fanche and Saefas for refugees, Zerhalm for Scanrans, and prompted by a sudden impulse, Irnai for children; she also took Neal as senior healer, and Seaver, whose father had been killed by a spidren. She'd spent hours over the past week talking with him about the alliances she hoped to form, and what she knew of Quenuresh; he'd had to grit his teeth much as she had forcing herself to face her fear of heights, but had become grimly determined to overcome his visceral repugnance. The fact that she largely shared it helped him, and when the small group rode down the roadway to collect a waiting Adner he was immediately behind her, face set.

The woodland was a good four miles beyond Haven, and it was more than an hour after Daine's arrival before they approached its eaves, dark with shadow even in sunlight. No spidrens were visible, but Daine had them dismount and picket the horses a hundred yards from the trees, and as they walked forward put fingers to mouth and gave a piercing whistle. They halted ten yards from the treeline, Kel and Irnai in the centre, with Daine in front, Seaver and Neal flanking them, the soldiers and civilians on either side. After what seemed an eternity but wasn't more than a minute shadows stirred under the trees and the biggest spidren Kel had ever seen stalked slowly out into the sunlight.

Most of the octoped immortals, though as much as four feet in legspan, stood no taller than two to three feet at their bizarrely human heads. Quenuresh's head was at least five foot from the ground, jointed legs rising above it, and her body twice the usual size. Yet her face, surprisingly attractive, was if tense also more open than Kel had ever seen, and without steel teeth on display infinitely less threatening. Behind her a dozen smaller spidrens, one with four young riding its back, emerged to spread themselves warily along the treeline.

Kel could hear deep, ragged breaths from Neal and Seaver on either side of her, but Irnai was calm and Kel kept hold of her hand as she carefully advanced behind Daine, controlling trembling legs with sheer willpower. Halting bare yards from a very still Quenuresh, whose gaze flickered from face to face, Kel offered a dip of her head somewhere between a nod and short bow, and stood waiting. Quenuresh looked her in the eye for a long second, nostrils flaring, then awkwardly dipped her own head and body. Her voice was low, not unpleasant, and Kel realised with muted shock she'd only ever heard spidrens speak—or shout and scream—in combat and in agony.

"Godborn, you keep your word. Protector of the Small, your fame has reached my ears. This girlchild is unknown to me but bears the marks of Shakith's chosen. She is Irnai of Rathhausak?"

"She is. Forgive me, but how should we address you?" "I am Quenuresh. I claim no title."

Kel swallowed. "I understand you and yours would live with us in peace, offering harm to none and claiming the King's protection."

"We would. In the divine realms I was a mage and scholar, and would be so again. All of us are tired of warfare and killing."

"That I can understand, for so are we all. But I believe the war—"

Kel broke off because Irnai was walking forward, stopping only feet from Quenuresh. Slowly her hand rose to touch the huge spidren's cheek. Quenuresh was utterly still but the spidrens behind skittered as they watched, surprise on their faces; what her own might look like Kel couldn't imagine. Letting her hand drop Irnai spoke, her voice distant.

"Your cheek is soft. I see no futures where you harm us, spidren-mage, but hazard comes all the same. Will you aid us when it does?"

"I and mine will defend ourselves, and you, against any who enter this valley, Shakith's daughter. This we have sworn to the King of this land, to stay his swords and fire sent against us. But we will not fight in mortal wars beyond our own home."

"The Protector asks no more."

Forcing herself forward until she stood beside Irnai, well within the spidren's killing reach, Kel met Quenuresh's eyes.

"Does Shakith's daughter speak true, Protector of the Small?"

Kel's voice was calm despite her churning stomach. "She does, Quenuresh. On those terms you and yours are welcome to New Hope." Generosity worked best, she thought. "Yet there is much we must determine. Wise animals live among us, lawful prey for none, and livestock we need to survive. Basilisks dwell here and we hope other immortals may come. You know of the Council at Dunlath?"

"I do."

"Though command here is mine it is in my mind we should do likewise and one seat on that Council should be yours. Do you accept it?"

Quenuresh studied her for a moment, not concealing surprise. "That is more than I expected. I accept gladly."

"We must also guard against misunderstandings and accidents." Kel swallowed. "There are those among us who have lost dearly to your kind. And you can have few reasons to trust us."

Kel felt Seaver come to her side and sensed others' tension behind her. A sidelong glance showed her a face sheened with sweat. His throat worked and when he spoke his voice was harsh.

"I am Seaver of Tasride." He swallowed convulsively. "A spidren killed my father."

Quenuresh studied him warily, nostrils flaring again. "I am sorry for your loss, Seaver of Tasride. I have never dwelt in that place, nor any of my get." For the first time the immortal hesitated. "I understand we are monstrous in your eyes, and I smell the fear in all save the Godborn and Shakith's daughter. Yet you approach despite it, restraining your sword and Gift, and we speak as your father and that one of my kind who slew him never could. If it does not offend, I would honour your courage. And we have sorrows of our own, beyond counting, learned at mortal hands."

Kel laid a gentle hand on Seaver's arm. "We understand, Quenuresh. It is our hope that your children and ours may be free of such sorrows, but we must be cautious if all are to prosper. Forgive my ignorance, but can spidrens sound a horn?"

"We can."

"Then we will place one at the edge of your woodland, and should we need to speak with you, or you with us, its summons will be heeded. If a child of either kind were lost, and needed to be searched for, perhaps, or other aid were needed." Quenuresh nodded and Kel swallowed again. "Will you also consider trading with us? I do not know what we might have that you need, nor what of yours we could use. But trust cannot grow in isolation."

Daine came to rest a hand on Irnai's shoulder. "We discussed this a bit, Kel." Her voice was dry. "Exchanges are certainly possible."

To everyone's surprise a smile lit Quenuresh's face, though a glimpse of steel teeth made it less reassuring that it might have been.

"They are, Godborn. We hunt, but if we are not to trespass on your lands we need livestock, or to trade for food. Meat, but also cheese."

"Cheese?"

"You heard right, Kel. Cheese." Daine let a smile show. "Seems spidrens have a taste for it but aren't equipped to make it themselves."

"In return, we offer webwork and our ability to climb."

Kel's fist clenched. Yes. "That is more than acceptable." Amid her satisfaction she felt whimsy rise. "We must devise a cheese schedule."

Quenuresh nodded, eyes alight. "And one for webwork, Protector. I had hoped spidren web would appeal to one who must defend many."

"Oh it does, Quenuresh. It does."

Neal came to her other side, white but with a look suggesting he might be laughing about cheese later, and the spidren turned to him.

"I am Nealan of Queenscove, Quenuresh."

Dark eyes studied him and nostrils flared. "You are the healer of Shakith's daughter's prophecy." It wasn't a question.

"I am. I can also firespeak, though not over great distance. Seaver has lightcraft, and some training in warmagery. And you are a mage. Can you tell me in what your power lies?"

"You ask much, Nealan of Queenscove, though you offer trust even as you ask it." The immortal's face was very still, no trace of humour remaining. "I know to hold this back would deny trust, yet it galls to speak it. Still, it must be. Beyond my webbing, I can speak over distance, not by fire, and when the barriers are thin, between realms. But my true power is of illusion and concealment." She neither moved nor made any visible gesture, but faded swiftly where she stood into invisibility for a second and then returned. "Even as the dragons, I can move unseen through a city, and have done so."

The demonstration alarmed Neal and Seaver, and Kel could hear shocked breathing behind her, but she'd guessed from what Daine said that Quenuresh must be able to conceal herself and her kin effectively, and magecraft was the obvious answer. Calmly she took her griffin headband from her pouch and bound it over eyes and ears.

"Would you repeat that spell, Quenuresh, staying invisible longer?"

Slowly the spidren nodded, nostrils again flaring. "Yes. The virtue of the griffins I cannot wholly defeat, but I will do as you ask."

She faded again but to Kel's sight an outline remained, the invisible body blocking woodland behind. She undid the band and passed it to Neal, then Seaver, summoning Brodhelm, Uinse, Fanche, and Saefas forward for turns. Irnai declined, smiling, and Quenuresh reappeared.

"Well, Protector?"

Kel made her voice brisk. "It is well, Quenuresh. We have comfort in the griffins' virtue and you know of it. Yet I would ask your oath that you never seek to pass invisibly within New Hope without our knowledge."

The spidren looked at her curiously. "You would trust an immortal's word, Protector? We have no gods to swear by who will bind us as the Great Gods bind mortals."

"I would trust your word, Quenuresh."

"Then you have it. And likewise, no mortal mage shall seek to enter our wood unseen."

"Agreed."

Swiftly Kel named Brodhelm and Uinse as captains, Fanche, Saefas, Adner, and Zerhalm as civilian leaders. Quenuresh nodded gravely to each, repeating names, and studied Zerhalm closely, nostrils flaring.

"Zerhalm of Rathhausak, you have the Gift to heal animals, though not as the Godborn

does."

He blinked. "I don't rightly know the Godborn's powers but that sounds about right."

"It is possible you might also heal us, for that is a magic we lack. Should need arise, are you willing to attempt it?"

Kel had not anticipated this and looked at Zerhalm anxiously, but as he overcame his surprise he shrugged.

"I've never healed a spider, never mind a spidren. Never tried, nor had the chance. But I'll leave no animal in pain if I can help, and I can't see I'd refuse to help one that was hurt, less'n you'd given me reason."

"I ask no more, and offer thanks." Quenuresh looked at Kel. "The young of every kind are vulnerable to injury. Shall I name my kin?"

As the other spidrens slowly came forward and were introduced, emotions eased. All were Quenuresh's children or grandchildren, and all were female. What had become of the males no-one asked, but Seaver, still trembling, did ask the other question in everyone's mind and to Kel's relief Quenuresh only smiled slightly.

"No, Seaver of Tasride, it is not with us as with mortals, passing down generations. If they live to number my centuries they will attain my size. But no mortal now living will see it, nor the children of their children's children."

"How old are you, then?"

Quenuresh smiled again. "I have more centuries than you have years, Nealan of Queenscove, and the youngest here fewer months." She gestured carefully with a foreleg to the spidrens less than a foot across who clung solemnly to their mother's back, eyes wide.

After her conversations with Tkaa and Daine Kel wasn't surprised, but others were, mouths opening in shock, and she thought everyone had had enough surprises for one day. After agreeing with Quenuresh to meet the following morning, bringing the horn, she made a formal farewell, receiving the same, and the spidrens vanished under the trees. Kel didn't think it was magic but how such a huge creature could be so easy to lose sight of was a mystery. As they reached the horses Seaver let out explosive breath and leaned against his mount's side, face grey.

"Gods, that was hard!"

"You did it, though. And came to no harm." Daine's voice was mild. "Spidren or not, she's brave and honourable. I used to hate and fear stormwings because the only one I knew truly was a monster. But then I met one who died fighting alongside us at Port Legann, and he was one of the best beings I've ever known. He still stank worse than a midden, but now I judge every being as I find them, not kind by kind."

Seaver nodded weakly. "I don't disagree, Wildmage, but I can't stop what my gut feels."

Kel knew he would not be the only one. Her own nausea wasn't far away, and she didn't look forward to renewed contact with Quenuresh on the morrow. The matted hair and sharp bristles on her high-jointed legs were as repellent as Kitten and Amiir'aan were attractive, and Kel could not shake the vivid memory of another spidren biting a kitten in half. But she also remembered her sick distress hearing baby spidrens burning to death in caves bombed with

blazebalm, and would not ignore any safe alternative to such slaughter. And above all, whatever her fears or anyone's, she knew that with Quenuresh and her brood holding the woodland and the promise of webbing to bolster New Hope's defences however proved possible, her people were safer tonight than last, and that was all that truly counted.


	7. Chapter 5

Visitations

Part II – Mabon

September – November, 461 HE

Chapter Five — Visitations

1–24 September

The remaining men of the building teams left at the beginning of September. Most had gone to Giantkiller a week before but the heavy gatehouse roof and multiple switchback stairways to the railed alures of the inner wall required specialists, and Geraint had stayed with them. Kel liked the man and would miss his good cheer but waved farewell with a light heart, glad to begin New Hope's independent life.

Civil and military routines were already established. Everyone trained with arms before breakfast and for an hour before the evening meal; fieldwork and replacing things lost with Haven occupied the refugees' days, while Brodhelm and Uinse had sparrow- and dog-aided patrols ranging widely afield, as well as an intense programme to train convict soldiers to regular army standards. Neal was working through the men of New Hope Company One, in private occasionally exploding at evidence of unhealed injuries and untreated disease but doing much to nurture the liking and trust Kel's fairness had seeded.

In the mornings children went to the schoolhouse where a surprised but willing St'aara kept order and two clerks ensured all could read, write, and do basic maths. To his mingled disgust and delight Tobe was among them. Other lessons depended on who was free and what they could think of, but between them Neal, Seaver, Faleron, Esmond, an infinitely mellowed Idrius Valestone, Saefas, and Kel herself were gradually covering Tortall's geography and history, neighbouring lands, healing and the body, magecraft, animal care, tracking and hunting, trade and business, and making and reading maps. Kel ruthlessly recruited for occasional lessons—cooks, seamstresses, hedgewitches, smiths, a shocked Uinse for moral tales of what not to do (or at least, how not to be caught doing it), and a bashful Connac, whose hobby was drawing. For some children it was a first experience of education and for most a welcome return to something that if not normal was at least ordered and dependable.

Relations with Quenuresh prospered. A round of cheese was delivered to the wood weekly, with meat when they slaughtered or caught enough game, while folded web-nets, spelled to be handled by mortals, were lodged in boxes along the alures. The first time Quenuresh entered New Hope the atmosphere was as tense as bearing cable, some people fainting and others unable to stop themselves vomiting; only Irnai and the basilisks yet felt remotely at ease with the giant immortal but when no-one was harmed and Quenuresh was unfailingly polite, as well as visibly working to bolster defences, fear and revulsion were slowly joined by acceptance and traces of strange pride. No-one else had spidren allies and all knew their experiment was of real importance. It was helpful that Amiir'aan, whom everyone liked, had no fear whatever of the spidren; nor, more oddly, did Jump or the sparrows. Kel herself had come to appreciate her strange ally's mind

and conversation, though her stomach still had its own opinion about proximity to a huge, hairy body and bristled legs.

To Kel's disappointment it had not proved practical to suspend rocks from the merlons using spidren web. It would decay over time, and were Quenuresh to be killed all her webbing would rapidly fail. Grumpily Kel set the older children to work knotting ropes and the younger to carrying rocks excavated from the central square up to the outer alures; once the filled nets were securely in place (with mageblasts to blow them open at need) Quenuresh won her renewed gratitude by crawling along the outer wall, cloaking each net in spells that left them invisible from below.

A different satisfaction came from work on the shrines. The adult basilisks spellcut arched niches in the limestone of the shallow bay and the best seven woodcarvers, dragged away from increasingly elaborate decoration of the messhall, held Kel's commission for statues. Lords Mithros, Gainel, and Sakuyo would all be honoured, with the Goddess, Shakith, and the Black God; in the centre a double-width niche would hold a double statue of Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady. When Kel had asked Daine by spellmirror for her approval and whether the wedded gods should be shown holding hands, the Wildmage had laughed until her face was wet, assuring her that not only would her Ma and Da be delighted to hold hands, but that any god had the right and power to attend dedications to Themselves and if they didn't show up for this one, especially with the barriers thin on the equinox, she'd ring down such a scold on them her Da's horns would curl. Sobering, she'd added in a quieter voice that it would be her Ma's first major shrine, and her Da had only a few scattered through the northern mountains of Tortall, Scanra, and Galla, small-scale work by woodsmen and their families, so both would likely have a strong proprietary interest. Kel still found a daughter's irreverence for gods disconcerting but also felt without quite being able to say it that humour was a better companion for faith than either the fear she associated with the Chamber or the profound unease manifestations of divine power usually induced.

The only real puzzle remaining was the cave. The basilisks had explored as far as they could, discovering a network of small chambers stretching away into the limestone but in every case finding the way blocked by cracks and passages too small even for Amiir'aan to pass, yet with air movement whispering of further connections. They had begun leisurely excavations but more, Kel thought, as a recreation than a task.

That situation changed with the harvest moon when an extended family of aqua-skinned ogres hesitantly climbed the roadway to request shelter. Miners displaced from further east, peaceful, reserved, and roughly polite, they had been living under treaty since the Immortals' War and Kel had no hesitation in accepting them and offering their leader, Kuriaju, a Council seat. There were abandoned mines in nearby valleys they could work when peace came; meantime they brought greater drive to exploration of the caves, stringing crystal magelights, levelling floors, and beginning to create useful spaces and open up some passages to discover what lay beyond. Kel also set Var'istaan and Kuriaju to work on a gallery in the fin, extending the alure of the inner wall at a right angle above the upper roadway. In the hard rock progress was slow, even with basilisk spells and ogre muscle, but well-sheltered firing positions covering the gates from a new angle were worth it.

A few days after the ogres arrived a small herd of centaurs took up residence in the upper valley, pasturing horses on the grassland, living in the woods, and keeping themselves to themselves but agreeing, like Quenuresh, to fight anyone who brought war to New Hope. Their herdmaster, Whitelist, brusquely declined a place on any council, but when he saw the fine bowls and jars made by petrifying turned wood became keen to trade, offering griffin -fletched arrows and to Kel's astonishment others in which ridged golds and coppers alternated with the metallic sheen of stormwing retrices. Such arrows were magekillers, and several dozen of each kind now resided in cases along the parapets, while week by week the reserve of broadheads and

needlepoints with charmed fletching grew.

The tally of immortals was completed soon afterwards when a tired Daine arrived one afternoon, again in hawk form, followed by a ringing cry that brought everyone out to see two huge brindled forms spiralling down to the green; between them a smaller version landed awkwardly and promptly trotted towards Kel. Ignoring Jump's wary growl from a safe distance it reached her as Daine emerged from the headquarters building at a run, and when she knelt warily booted her knee and made a snap at her hand she barely avoided.

"Oy! Little monster."

"Yes, he still is." Daine's breathless voice was amused. "But for a griffin that was affection all the same, Kel."

"Sure it was. And I'm glad to see him, I suppose." She whipped out a hand to pluck an errant feather from the kit's side, avoiding his reflex snap. "Got you. You'll have to speed up." The kit booted her knee again as she glanced up at Daine. "What's the deal?"

"They'll roost for at least two years in one of the cliff caves and prevent anyone from gaining access to the cliff tops above here, but they won't fight. They'll give you feathers when they moult and the male says they'll put griffin magic into the gate-lintel, if you'd like. It will reveal anyone who tries to enter under an illusion spell, and it's much stronger than the feather-bands you use."

That was an offer Kel had no hesitation accepting, wondering what would be needed in return, but to her surprise Daine shook her head.

"They don't want anything, Kel. He says they recognise their debt to you and feel better offering something to repay it."

"Coming here at all more than repays it, Daine, and there's the feathers as well."

"They don't see it like that. They were about to move anyway and like the idea of river-fish for a while. And they couldn't care less about moulted feathers. Just let them do it and they'll get to cave-hunting."

Walking up to the gates in front of two adult griffins with the kit trotting beside her, Jump circling warily, and everyone except the duty watch at a respectful distance was one of the oddest experiences Kel could remember. Realising the crowd could be a problem with magic being done she swung round briefly to direct people to the outer alure, gatehouse roof, and what there was of the gallery in the fin, then resumed her escort. The adult griffins sensed the pit-trap in the barbican roadway, bounding over it, and turned to study the building from outside. Kel and Daine went to the road edge, safely out of the way, and shortly the kit scampered away from his parents to join them. With the palisades lined with excited faces, the adult griffins reared tall on their hind legs, wings flapping, and directed ringing shrieks at lintel and gateposts that made the stone glow bright copper before slowly fading. Even as it did an eagle eye and beak clap summoned the kit, who again booted Kel's leg before trotting back to his parents, and all three griffins launched themselves off the outer edge of the roadway, spiralling up to begin flying slowly along the cliffs.

Kel drew the first breath she remembered for a while. "That's it?"

"Yes. One Honesty Gate, all done."

"Honesty Gate?"

"So Numair says. He's excited and when next here will doubtless crawl all over it.

They're mentioned in old Carthaki books but this is now the first he knows of since griffins returned to the mortal realms."

Kel would have liked to hear more but Daine couldn't stay. Quenuresh, however, aware of the griffins' magic, came to test the spell. A wagon was placed just outside the gate, wheels wedged with blocks of stone against the steep slope, and while people watched from inside and outside the gate the spidren mage laid illusion spells on it. Those outside saw a procession of things appear—a shed, a lowing bullock, a huge boulder, and a tawny griffin—while those inside saw a wagon doing nothing at all. The experience of stepping out of the gate and back, wagon and illusion playing tag, was altogether disconcerting, as was the discovery that once under the lintel no-one, human or immortal, could tell even the whitest lie. The evident virtue of the Honesty Gate delighted everyone, but to Kel, recalling what she had once seen at Haresfield, as to Brodhelm and other veterans who also knew that gates were more often breached by treachery than assault, it was reassurance beyond price. Very much Commander Kel, she laid down standing orders that any and all non-residents arriving, of whatever kind or importance, must state their names and purposes standing under the lintel, with a declaration that they intended no harm of any sort to place or people.

Thinking carefully that evening about what she'd done she contacted Wyldon at Mastiff, explained, garnering another surprised head-shake, and asked him to relay a request to Prince Roald—whose marriage had taken place the week before and should even now be half-way to New Hope with the new Princess Shinkokami of Conté and a retinue including Yuki and the Archpriest of Mithros. They were due on Mabon morning, and if (Kel argued) the Crown Prince and Princess were willingly to obey her standing order, a precedent would be set no-one could ignore. Wyldon took her point and, if yet again astonished, agreed to pass her request along.

The next evening, making her scheduled monthly report to General Vanget, she was told Roald and Shinko had agreed at once. Smiling and shaking his head much as Wyldon had, Vanget commended her initiative warmly and said he'd make sure any officers he sent her way, of whatever rank or nobility, would know they were expected to comply without fuss. Evidently curious, he asked her to list her standing orders, and when she did from memory offered further praise and requested a copy be sent with her next written report.

"You've some good wrinkles in that lot, Lady Knight. I've already adopted your tauros-threat rule of fives and pole arms, and that one about sentry rotation during shifts is interesting." His face darkened. "There've been two more tauros attacks, by the way, west of here, so they're heading your way."

"So noted, sir. I'll reinforce my warnings to women and girls."

"Mm. And yourself, Lady Knight. In this you are also at specific risk. Blasted things. Now, what else was I … oh. Yes. Some unhappy news, I'm afraid." Vanget looked down uneasily before meeting her eyes again and Kel's stomach muscles tautened. "It's nothing personal, Lady Knight, it's just … it's your yearmate Sir Quinden, Keladry."

Her heart sank at news and name. "What of him, sir?"

His glance was keen. "Just Vanget, in this, if you will. Wyldon told me you're on first-name terms so I'm bothered if I'll stand on ceremony. Anyway, you rightly reported Sir Quinden's slovenly behaviour on patrol and Wyldon reprimanded him. He didn't mention you, of course, but given where that patrol was and publication of your report it wasn't hard for him to guess who he hadn't seen and he became grossly insubordinate. Wyldon transferred him to Northwatch for a last chance, which he's failed to take." He drew a deep breath. "I gave him two opportunities to improve but he's a piss-poor excuse for a knight and a worse officer. I won't risk men under him any more, so I dismissed him this morning."

"You dismissed him?"

"Sent him back to Corus with a note recommending he be denied any further service and ordering he never have command of men. But the thing is … well, he blamed you, and swore you'd regret what he called blabbing. I thought you should know."

Kel stared, mind boiling, and found words she hadn't intended spilling from her lips. "I'd send a copy of that note separately if you want it to arrive."

"What? You think he'd—"

"Quinden of Marti's Hill will do anything he thinks it his right to do. As a page he could never play fair and I don't suppose he'll start now."

He looked at her bleakly. "Right you are, Keladry. I'll see it's done. Gods. The Chamber ought to catch someone like that."

Her own look was bleak. "I prefer Kel. And the Chamber tests only for courage and a degree of flexibility. I know this is pushing a limit, but it imposes desperation, yes? You can't do anything as everyone dies?"

"Pretty much." He looked at her with respect. "You have got guts, haven't you?"

She ignored him, though something in her revelled in his praise. "What the Chamber doesn't do is tempt. If it had made Quinden king of all the world, with every woman and child helpless before him to do with as he would, it might have seen more truly."

There was a long silence before Vanget sighed. "Kel, eh? Very well. That's a fearsome mind you have there, you know." His face creased in a mirthless grin. "I heard from Numair about your advice to the king. And you were right about how we were thinking of the Chamber. But I don't think His Majesty's had any chats with it yet, though I believe Numair did manage a few words." He thought hard for a moment. "This matters, Kel. Would you be prepared to talk to it again?"

"Certainly." She shrugged, though she didn't feel that way. "But it's always been me getting instructions, never the other way round."

"I don't think that matters. I'd just like to know it's aware of the problem."

"It's not new, Vanget." When his eyebrows lifted she spoke flatly. "Ansil of Groten. Arknor of Groten. Voelden of Tirrsmont. Belar of Heathercove. Guisant of Torhelm. Given the chance to kill me without consequences every one of them would take it. Others too. Tirrsmont tried to run me through during a joust, and Guisant once said to my face I should be raped to death and thrown on the nearest midden." His face was pale; she had no idea what her own might look like. "If the test were chivalry, not brute courage and sufficient cunning, not one of them would have left the Chamber alive."

"Gods. What an indictment." He again dropped his gaze, then lifted it painfully to meet her own. "Can't deny any of it though. You name the most unpleasant knights of the last twenty years. Don't know any of 'em that well but they all have vile reputations. Torhelm's a compulsive womaniser by all accounts, like Runnerspring, and Tirrsmont's no better than his father. I heard about him trying to run you through. Wyldon was livid. Went on about it for weeks. So did the Queen, and the Lioness went the same colour as her eyes. You really think Sir Quinden's of that stripe?"

"At page camp he was always trying to sneak up on me at the female latrines, and not just for some mucky thrill. What he wanted was a woman unawares and in no position to fight. And he's a pincher. My maid at the Palace told me a dozen women at least got bruised cheeks from him, and sometimes worse. He also thinks spitting's a clever remark."

"Gods." A look of extreme distaste very like Wyldon's occupied Vanget's face. "Alright. I'll discuss it with the King but I bet he'll think it should be you who talks to the Chamber. I don't imagine you want to leave New Hope, but even without this matter he'll want you in Corus for Midwinter." He raised a hand. "No good protesting to me. Think about it. I would in his shoes, and not just for this or to hear about your Scanran adventure firsthand. There's Quenuresh and all your other immortals, and the visit next week. Other things too."

"Mmph." Kel fulminated briefly but could see the inevitability of what Vanget said and came to a swift decision. "Humour me a moment. What's the general picture, along the front and in Hamrkeng?"

Vanget quirked heavy eyebrows but played along. "Stalemate mostly, while Maggur's rebuilding. The armies investing Frasrlund and the City of the Gods are still there, and raiding parties continue west and east, though since your exploit and smashing up that little army in June they seem to be avoiding us between here and Steadfast. Wolfships hit some villages round Seabeth and Seajen, but the coast's been quieter than we'd feared. Meantime Maggur's pulling together another army, with every man he can rustle up—mostly from fiefs and clans in the far north, we think, where he's taken more hostages."

"Do you expect to have to fight this year?"

"It's possible, but I'm thinking spring."

"So nothing over the winter?"

"Not unless something very odd happens to the snow. You know no-one can move far after Samhain."

"I do, but if I have to go to Corus—and the other knights as well, probably—I'm still going to ask you to make sure that second regular company is here by the time we go. Brodhelm's good, and Uinse's doing very well, but the convicts still have a way to go, and even with all those men we depend on civilians to make up numbers on the parapets and for most of the support work."

"Mmm. Nothing's likely to happen, Kel."

"I know but I'm uneasy. If I was a man I'd say I felt it in my water. And unless the snow's very bad giants can move. Tauroses too."

"Point. Alright, I'll do my best. I can't see any real force moving in winter but I respect your unease. It was justified last time. And you're right immortals might manage what men can't." He made another note. "Now, unless there's anything else I must go."

Kel wasn't happy about having to winter in Corus but couldn't realistically do more and knew her fears of disaster in her absence—because of her absence—were more nightmare than reason. Mulling it over, she pressed Wulfric and Leoten, the Company Eight warmages, to make more mageblasts and with Var'istaan's help a work party rigged blazebalm bombs at fifteen-foot intervals along the roadway. Small kegs were set in hollows in the bonded rock, packed round with coarse gravel and concealed by petrified squares of the thinnest wood carpenters could produce. Others were scattered through the killing field between the walls. The whole business

was nasty, inducing acute distaste in Kel as much as Brodhelm, Uinse, and the knights, but it was another defence that didn't rely on manpower and she would not pass up any advantage.

Kel's good humour was restored two mornings later, when the ogres working in the cave broke through a larger crack to find a substantial chamber—deep, wide, and very high-roofed, reaching up perhaps two hundred feet. It was another useful space, but what really pleased her was the secret it disclosed as day wore on—a dim patch, almost at the top, that was indisputably sunlight. Politely asked for help, with a proffer of additional game, Quenuresh sent one of her kin to clamber up, silver claws biting into the rock, and drop a web-ladder for Kuriaju's smallest son to climb bearing ropes and spikes. It took a while, but before sunset Kel knew that with a slight scramble and squeeze there was a way through to the cliff-face, just above a jutting lobe of rock that hid the opening from the ground. The ogre managed to lob a painted pebble over the edge, and they found it on the terrace between the shrines and livestock pens.

Sitting that evening with basilisks, ogres, and the dozen miners among the Tirrsmont refugees Kel described what she wanted—a look-out post, big enough for two people, safely parapetted, with a vantage over the valley far better than gatehouse or north tower could offer.

Forewarned was forearmed, and from that height it should be possible to see any movement on the track that ran to the Northwatch road long before it would be visible elsewhere. Limestone was far easier than the harder fin to spellcut or cleave with crude force, and the following day work began on a slanting passageway that would spiral up to the space that admitted daylight. It would take time, but by evening Kel could contemplate a dozen feet of twisting excavation opening another dimension of her command.

Neal knew privately from Yuki what was in the wind, but how to prepare New Hope for Roald and Shinko without anyone realising they were coming was a puzzle that occupied Kel for half-a-day before she realised it was simple. All the statues she'd commissioned were done except Lord Weiryn and his Green Lady, that carver having abandoned hand-holding in favour of a less challenging pose. His second attempt had the divine couple with inner arms around one another and outer ones outstretched, Weiryn holding a bow, the Green Lady the spiral emblem of the Goddess-as-mother, and Kel goosed the man into renewed efforts by announcing at dinner that she'd managed to secure a senior divine to dedicate the shrines at Mabon. After she'd remarked that besides innate respect due a priest he'd be New Hope's first non-military visitor no-one was surprised to hear she wanted everything spick and span. The next days saw brooms and paintbrushes wielded, armour scoured, and heavy traffic at bathhouses and laundry. Guest rooms in headquarters and the barracks that remained unoccupied were also spruced up.

Refugees and soldiers alike were keen on the shrines, knowing Irnai was god-touched and those who'd been at Rathhausak with Kel, like the Scanrans, were convinced she'd had divine blessings on her mission. Respect for Lord Mithros and the Goddess needed no explanation and Shakith was accounted for by Irnai, but Kel was asked by many about her unusual choice of other gods to honour. Each time she said simply that Lord Gainel had sent visions of Blayce to guide her, necromancy offended against the Black God, and if it were not for the Godborn's gift to Haven of knowing animals no-one would have been rescued at all, adding a thought about the advantages of good hunting and safe childbed. About Lord Sakuyo she said only she'd grown up in the Yamani Isles respecting their trickster god and didn't propose to stop now.

Those who'd seen Daine magicking animals at Haven accepted Kel's explanation without demur, and newer arrivals who'd seen the Wildmage in hawk-form agreed she was more than a

mage. Quite a few were roundly unconvinced of Daine's supposed parentage even so, the notion that the Green Lady had been an unwed Gallan peasant mother until she was murdered by bandits eleven years ago being neither sensible nor respectable, but the practical advantages of better game and midwifery appealed even to them. Kel didn't mention Daine had promised more astonishing guests than a priest or even a Crown Prince and Princess—an idea that still seemed absurd to her —but did spend time with the carver as he finished up and was relieved to see the results were rather good, even in the delicate matter of divinely loving expressions.

On the morning of Mabon eve Kel did two things, the first to put her foot down about the messhall. The panels telling Haven's and New Hope's story had long been finished, but the woodworkers had become addicted to pillar-decorating and every exposed wooden surface that could be reached now sported vines, animal heads, images of resident immortals, and abstract patterns. Declaring it complete at breakfast to groans of protest she called on the amused basilisks, who spent the morning transforming load-bearing pillars and beams not into the rough grey stone of walls and gatehouse but a smooth crystalline rock so fine it was translucent, in colours from sunset red to forest green. Kel thought the results looked good, children were entranced, and everyone else happy or not saying otherwise. Amiir'aan then set about the roof and by evening the fire-arrow-proofing of New Hope was complete.

The second thing was to collect the escort required by her standing orders, ride Hoshi briskly up to Spidren Wood, and blow the horn. It was only a few minutes before a smaller spidren emerged cautiously from the trees, but took longer for Quenuresh to be summoned. Apologising for the late notice and honestly pleading security concerns Kel told the immortal what would be happening on the morrow and formally invited her and all her kin to attend. Quenuresh hadn't been especially interested in the dedication of shrines, though she approved of one to Weiryn, whom she said in a dry voice was helpful as gods went, but a Tortallan royal in the direct line was another matter. Sceptical all the same of what cheer seventeen spidrens might add to mortal festivities, she agreed they would come to New Hope in the morning. Kel asked her to relay word to the griffins, with whom she alone, save Daine, could communicate directly, and she promised with a half-smile to do so but took leave to doubt they'd be any more interested in royals than she was in gods. Kel tended to agree, but hoped anyway.

She spent the afternoon in a tour of inspection, warning the head cook he should expect a larger high-table next day than anticipated, as well as catering for extra guests whose number made his eyes widen before narrowing in calculation. Grinning, she told him to keep his suspicions quiet, authorised additional hunting parties, and continued through barns, infirmary, schoolhouse, cave, barracks, and stables before starting on gatehouse and walls. With the weather set fair, though the air was noticeably cooler, she let the children decorate and watched as bunting was strung and bright streamers fixed around the trunks of the four saplings.

After an evening meal dominated by people getting up to peer at some colourful bit of carving Kel called her captains and knights, with St'aara, Var'istaan, Kuriaju, Fanche, Saefas, Adner, Zerhalm, and Irnai to the headquarters' briefing room and told them who was coming.

Neal was smug, others surprised, impressed, pleased, and in Uinse's case dumbstruck, and they went over arrangements Kel had drawn up as soon as she'd had confirmation of the visit. Squads were sent to finish preparing barracks accommodation, and a roster for standing guards (and guides) for important guests was drawn up. Kel anticipated no trouble, but knew the surest way to invite it was to leave things undone that might be taken care of beforehand, and after running again through her mental checklist spent a dreamless night.

The arrival not long after dawn of Wyldon with an escort squad drew thoughtful looks, particularly from those who saw him quietly but warmly greet Lady Kel, unobtrusively seek hot food, and subsequently keep out of everyone's way, entertaining Jump while hovering around the gatehouse. The arrival in mid-morning of the spidrens caused more unease, lessening as to

everyone's relief (and Kel's private satisfaction at good planning) they settled on the central grassed square and were joined by ogres and basilisks for what looked like a good immortal gossip. The royal visitors were coming by the Great North Road and had camped overnight where it crossed the Greenwoods, so it wasn't much later when horn-calls followed by an excited patroller announced their presence. An experienced soldier born in Corus, he had recognised not only the royals but the Archpriest of Mithros, Master Numair, and Tkaa, as well as the flying fossil Bonedancer (who had nearly caused a riot when first exploring the city's markets but since become a popular sight). Word spread like magic and by the time the visitors passed the fin, collectively blinking astonishment at New Hope's towering glacis and walls, and reorganised to climb the narrow roadway, the outer alure, gatehouse roof, and every possible vantage point were packed. Even the arrival of the griffins, spiralling down with ringing cries to sit with the other immortals, caused only a brief stir.

Roald and Shinko led the column up, holding hands and looking to Kel's eye purely delighted to be married at last if astonished by what they were seeing. They wore fine but practical riding clothes, in Shinko's case a split skirt over sturdy leggings, and were followed by the elderly but spry Archpriest, robed in orange and yellow, Numair in black, Daine in an elegant tunic and breeches holding Kitten's paw, and Lindhall Reed in red with Bonedancer perched on his arm. Behind them came a court party, including Yuki in an outfit like Shinko's, Tkaa, and to Kel's delighted astonishment both her parents in formal Mindelan colours. Their faces were Yamani masks but when their eyes met hers the leap of pride in her was evident and shy happiness bubbled in her breast. And behind the court party trailed a body of servants and the five squads of the Own's Second Company who hadn't been to Steadfast in July.

Orchan's turn, narrow, and rise was excellent for making attack more difficult and did just the same for friendlier approaches, so Kel went out to meet them, flanked by Brodhelm in dress maroons and Wyldon, whose public subordination to her in her command did not go unnoticed. Stopping a few feet up the rise, to leave herself clearly visible to all on roadway and alures, Kel bowed and formally welcomed the Crown Prince and Princess with Archpriest Holloran and all the guests, thanking them for the honour they did New Hope and introducing Brodhelm; Wyldon they knew. Roald's eyes glinted with humour as he replied, also pitching his voice to carry.

"Lady Knight Commander, Captain Brodhelm, Lord Wyldon, the honour is ours." He offered Kel a hand, and Cricket her cheek to kiss. "My wife and I have heard much of your valour, Lady Knight, and of New Hope, including the wonder of your Honesty Gate."

On cue Kel explained with careful brevity and clarity her standing rule, and the royal couple came beneath the lintel to state their names and declare sincere good wishes for New Hope's safety and prosperity. Archpriest, mages, basilisk, and court party followed in order, though Kel could see Daine restraining Numair from an evident desire to leave aside formalities and start examining the gate. Perhaps fortunately, he was distracted when Bonedancer, still on Lindhall's arm, briefly glowed a deep copper colour when carried under the lintel, to its jaw-clattering and Kitten's warbling delight, and Numair fell instead to speculating about interference between divine and immortals spells.

Though everyone was co-operating in the staged performance it took time, and within the shadow of the barbican Kel was able to greet her parents properly, her father's bearhug and moist eyes testimony to the more jagged emotions he'd felt on her behalf since she'd last seen him.

Roald and Shinko seized the chance to ask her if Quenuresh was present, looked anxious when told she was, and sighed relief on learning all New Hope's immortals were well within and the only immediate greetings would be of mortal commanders.

When the important guests were through Kel led them to the shelf where the knights, Uinse, Fanche, Saefas, Adner, Zerhalm, and Irnai waited in their best. Bows and curtsies were

received, kind words murmured, and hands shaken, royals warmly gracious and commoners surprised at their easy manners and deeply intrigued by Shinko. For Zerhalm and Irnai there were formal welcomes to Tortall in King Jonathan's name, extending to all Scanran-born refugees and pitched to carry to the crowd building around them as people streamed down from the alure. Daine and Numair were familiar faces but Kitten's decision to mindspeak greetings startled and pleased everyone, though Bonedancer received sidelong looks. Neal's and Yuki's embrace was greeted with laughing cheer and interested stares, while Kel's parents, to her mingled pride and embarrassment, were received with fierce pleasure by all New Hopers; if Fanche stopped short of thanking them for conceiving her it wasn't by much and the enthusiastic applause left Kel flushed. Seeing over massed heads below the shelf the griffin kit and Amiir'aan solemnly nose-to-nose, the basilisk with a spidren youngling clinging to his back, it was, she decided, high time to deal with immortals.

She led the guests down to the main level and the crowd parted to clear their way. Roald and Shinko both gulped as they saw how large Quenuresh was, and Archpriest Holloran went whiter than his hair. Kel murmured reassurances, praying they and everyone would be able to cope, and when rescue came from an unexpected source wondered if the gods really were listening. Kitten had also seen the young immortals standing nose-to-nose, and after a quick glance at Daine scampered forward to add her snout to the colloquy. Bonedancer took wing, flapping after the dragonet amid alarmed sparrows, and Kel had to suppress laughter bubbling with relief when it decided Quenuresh's broad back offered the best perch from which to peer at the improbable circle of young immortals. Quenuresh didn't seem to mind, merely rolling her eyes, and Kel felt everyone's fear ease. The adult griffins, however, who had little if any sense of humour, were looking as impatient as always, so Kel went to them first, bowing and announcing Roald and Shinko with their full titles before briefly naming Archpriest Holloran, the mages, and Tkaa. The griffins nodded only to the Crown Prince and Princess, looking regal themselves, and to Tkaa. Daine came forward to Kel's side.

"Your Highnesses, they're pleased to meet you and ask you convey to His Majesty their appreciation of his policy towards immortals."

Daine's voice was formal until she added in an amused undertone that that was only the gist but griffins did have strong feelings about orderliness and approved of the treaty system. Roald didn't miss a beat.

"It is my pleasure to meet you both, and to see your son again prospering with you. I will convey your words to my father, and in His name thank you for honouring our realm and us with your presence here today, and for creating New Hope's Honesty Gate."

Shinko, face alight with wonder, dropped a curtsey and added her own pleasure in meeting them. Kel thought there was a certain satisfaction in their beak-claps but it didn't stop the female immediately uttering a squawk of command to the kit, who glanced round, shook his head firmly, and went back to his conference with Amiir'aan and Kitten. The adult griffins looked at one another, managing to convey a resigned parental shrug, and leapt into the air, wingbeats mussing hair and flapping finery until they were high enough to begin their usual spiralling ascent. Junior was clearly thought safe to leave in his present company, and while Kel had her doubts as to whether it would be safe from him took a breath and moved on to Quenuresh.

Even deep-seated visceral fear of a very large spidren at arm's length was challenged by the sight of a grinning white fossil perched on her back, wings bating as Quenuresh bent foremost legs and dipped a shallow bow. Though her nostrils flared slightly as she sensed Roald's measure of the Conté Gift, and much more widely as she glanced at Numair and Lindhall, she was as impeccably polite as usual and swiftly named her kin, who awkwardly offered deeper bows, before seconding the griffins' praise of the treaty system. Roald's genuine pragmatic interest

helped him reply smoothly before enquiring if Quenuresh was finding life in New Hope's woods satisfactory.

"Certainly. Lady Keladry has been helpful and fair, working with mortals is an interesting experience, and the cheese is very good."

Roald and Shinko were aware of the part food played in the treaty and nodded, but explanations to the bug-eyed moved things along nicely. Leaving the spidren mage to discuss soft-ripening and blue-veining with Numair and Lindhall, Kel took Roald and Shinko on to the easier basilisks and ogres, all gravely polite, and finally the circle of young. Crouching, she introduced a solemn Amiir'aan and got the baby spidren clinging to his back to squeak its name. When Roald bent to greet them the griffin kit snapped at his hand, only just missing, and instinctively assuming authority Kel swiftly whapped him on the back of the head.

"Behave, you."

He bated surprise but seeing her stern expression changed tack and booted Roald's knee before turning his head to Kel and cocking it to invite a scratch. She complied, persuading a cautious Shinko to join her, and when clever Yamani fingers found the bony hinge beneath the short feathers of his jaw he crooned pleasure and began a deep rumbling.

"He's purring!" The look on Shinko's face reminded Kel forcefully of the Cricket she'd known as a girl in the Islands, and she thought with real pleasure that her friend was already relaxing into her marriage.

"So he is. Little brute." Her voice was affectionate, despite keen memories of the blood lost feeding and grooming the kit. Roald grinned.

"You're putting that soft spot to amazing use, Kel. I was briefed about this place but it didn't convey the wonder at all. And you've got me out of having to be back at Northwatch already, bless you. This is much better duty, though Quenuresh is going to take some getting used to."

Shinko blew out a breath, fingers stroking the kit. "She is, but lessening the spidren threat even a little is a boon. Kel, the Emperor's extremely interested and wants to send someone to see how you're doing it because spidrens have become a terrible problem on Wangetsushima. Would you mind?"

"Of course not. It's a bit nerve-racking because everyone has such visceral reactions, but as you can see people do get used to Quenuresh and the others. After a while." She gave them a crooked smile. "If your stomachs have settled we should get on with lunch, and I think I'd better attend His Reverence. He's looking a bit lost."

Archpriest Holloran was more astonished than upset, and happy to pepper Kel with questions about how she had come to be on such terms with so many immortals, drawing in Tkaa while Roald and Shinko went on greeting people with the bemused court party in support. Not wanting to spoil the surprise of the messhall decorations at the evening feast Kel had arranged for lunch to be, while hot and plentiful, finger-food that could be served outside—rolls, handwiches, and in Shinko's honour karumetou cake, for which she'd hoarded sugar from her rations (and Neal's, when he gave her grief about vegetables). To drink there was spring water and to Kel's mind that was fine; New Hope had enough, barely, and until their crops started coming in luxuries were scarce.

Once Holloran had a plate in hand she steered him to Irnai, sitting with Kitten, Amiir'aan, and Junior, and suggested he seek their opinions of mingling kinds before adding he should watch

his fingers with the griffin and slipping away to join her parents. Being diplomats to the core had not made meeting Quenuresh any easier for them, but beyond their happiness in seeing her both were entirely delighted by the compelling evidence that Kel was following in their footsteps after all.

"We'd seen flashes of it, dear, in the way you've always treated people and the things I learned at Steadfast made me wonder. But I hadn't anticipated this marvel." Ilane exchanged a look with her husband and waved a hand. "This astonishing fort, yes, from all you said about it, but despite your letters we didn't really understand what you were doing. You didn't say anything about how much all these immortals obviously respect you specifically. And the people love you."

"You've made us both very proud, Kel. I hope you know that." "Oh Papa."

"You have, dear. But don't cry, please." Her mother smiled. Or I shall too, and it would be too entirely rude, as Yuki would say."

Kel dabbed her eyes, not feeling very coherent. "You don't know how much … and after

I—"

"No, no, none of that, Kel." Her Papa was serious for all his joy. "Your mother told me you tried to apologise to her and I won't have it any more than she would. Honour's all very well but if it binds you to doing something dishonourable it's worse than useless. If you hadn't gone after those poor refugees no-one would have blamed you, but I'm so glad, so proud you did." He frowned. "And I agree with Thayet. That deal the King made you is grossly unfair. I can see why you'd accept it but he ought to be rewarding you, not salving his conscience."

Through blurry eyes Kel saw her mother lay a hand on her father's arm and thought he might have said something more, but had to set the puzzle aside when Holloran reappeared.

"Baron, Baroness. Lady Knight, I'm sorry to intrude on your family reunion." He smiled. "And to drag myself away from those charming young immortals you adroitly deposited me with. That griffin kit is a handful but young Amiir'aan is very well-spoken and Skysong always interesting. Still, I really do need to talk to you about the ceremony and see the shrines I'm to dedicate."

"Of course, Your Reverence."

"Oh, just Holloran in private, please. I get reverenced to death half the time when it's Lord Mithros to whom respect should go."

After learning to use the bare 'Wyldon' an Archpriest wanting to dispense with protocol presented no problem. His reason also appealed and Kel smiled warmly. "And Keladry, then. Or Kel. The shrines are on the terrace. We could walk over but I ought to give Their Highnesses a tour." She stood, looking round for Roald and Shinko.

"They're talking to Numair and happy to wait on us." "Alright, if you're sure."

He was, and they went, Kel's parents joining them. She gave Holloran the same explanation of her choice of gods as she had everyone, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Honest reasons and very proper, despite the odd mix. I'm afraid I know little of Lord Sakuyo. Is there anything special I ought to do?"

Kel didn't think so and explained about the Yamani trickster, her parents chipping in as they crossed the green and ranges, detouring round the playground to the broad steps up to the terrace before the shrines. The crowd watched with interest but respectfully afforded space, and when it became clear where they were headed politely pulled back further to afford Kel some privacy. As they reached the terrace Kel simply gestured with her arm: all the statues had been emplaced the night before, and if the carving was homely by Corus standards the genuine feelings of the makers shone in their power and dignity.

"Oh my. These are very good."

Stepping carefully over the trough Holloran went from statue to statue, bowing to each before peering closely and reaching out to touch or feel the smoothness of the niches. For Lord Sakuyo, shown with a wide smile and laughing eyes, he did the same but then went to one knee.

"Lord Sakuyo, I am Holloran, a priest of Lord Mithros, here to dedicate all these shrines. Forgive me my ignorance of your customs, High One, and if there is anything I should do to content you of which I am unaware please tell me that I may do all as you would wish."

Kel and her parents murmured 'So mote it be' and he rose, walking back to the statues of Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady.

"I confess, Keladry, it's these High Ones who worry me. Their daughter says—you've no idea how odd that makes me feel—they will be, ah, attending in person. Manifesting, in fact." He took a breath. "And of course that's right and proper. Lord Mithros graced his temple in Corus when it was dedicated, and there are records of other gods doing as much from time to time. But it hasn't happened in Tortall in living memory and no-one I've asked has any knowledge of two gods manifesting simultaneously, nor of any married gods at all. Lord Weiryn I've known about most of my life, of course, but I've never served him. And no-one knows anything about the Green Lady because she's so new!"

Kel quirked an eyebrow. "Daine does. She lived with her Ma till she was thirteen." Holloran blinked. "Well, yes, but—"

"I know she wasn't a goddess then, but Daine says she remembers being human in a way most gods can't."

He sighed. "Yes, we had that discussion. Her attitude to all the Great Gods is, um—"

"Distressingly irreverent? Yes, I found it so too, at first. I still do, most of the time, if I'm honest. But since the Chamber of the Ordeal pitchforked me into the paths of Lord Gainel and Shakith I've learned to appreciate it. She's an amazing woman, you know. How would you react if you found out your da was a god and your ma just became one?"

Holloran blinked again and Kel's laughing eyes found her parents', who grinned in

unison.

"I'll also say that if the gods' attention has taught me anything it's that there's nothing anyone can do about it. They're gods. They do as they will, and they'll hurt whoever they must in the process. But they also seem to want me to succeed in something. Rathhausak was part of it but there's something else not done yet, so I don't think they'd allow this dedication to be upset. And I'm sure neither of Daine's parents want to shame her, so why don't we go ahead and see what happens?"

"Oh my. You're very direct, Keladry." Her parents laughed softly and she glared. "But I

can't disagree with your reasoning. The Lioness said much the same, and she did meet both of them, apparently, at Daine's and Numair's Beltane wedding. Oh well. On we go, then."

They went, and Kel gave the chief guests what was becoming her standard tour, though not with so many people being guided nor such a crowd cheerfully following. On the main level numbers weren't a problem but for the inner allures and gallery Kel restricted admission to a small group, and at the cave. Kitten, however, pursued by Bonedancer, insisted on joining them at that point to give her lightshow with the stalagmites, and in the recently discovered further chamber Bonedancer soared towards the roof, discovered he could get through to the open air again, and circled round several times, collecting the sparrows as he did so. Trying to use a narrow passage while a flying fossil and a dozen sparrows insisted on going the other way at speed proved somewhere between impossible and heartstopping, but Lindhall eventually managed to get the excited revenant to watch Kitten's continuing entertainment and an amused Daine persuaded the sparrows to calm down.

While they were watching the spiralling light Roald called over Holloran and had a quiet word with Kel, whose eyes widened. She hurriedly despatched guards to find the people needed, and once the party emerged back into the daylight led them to the terrace. Fanche and Saefas were waiting with puzzled looks, as was Zerhalm, and a disgruntled Tobe soon appeared, a grinning guard telling Kel she'd been right to think he'd be in the stables meeting the guests' fine horses. Ignoring the growing curiosity of the crowd who sensed something else they hadn't known about in the wind, she guided the boy to her parents, made introductions, and crouched to speak quietly. They'd discussed this several times and his decision had been firm. She'd written to her parents and received their blessing, as they warmly confirmed now, so papers had been sent to the Corus magistracy. But she hadn't thought in terms of today and Tobe's eyes grew round as saucers.

"Now?"

"Only if you want, Tobe. We can wait if you'd rather."

Her answer was arms flung round her neck and she had to resist scooping him up, contenting herself with hugging him back. A glance at her mother had Ilane quietly laying a hand gently on Tobe's shoulder, and Kel took the few paces to stand in front of Roald and Shinko and eyed the crowd. She raised a hand and they fell silent with gratifying speed, looking at the assembly on the terrace with avid curiosity.

"People, it turns out there are some things planned that even I didn't know about, so listen carefully now." Laughter swept through them at her chagrin. "I've told you all before now that His Majesty was very impressed by the way everyone handled themselves in Scanra." They sobered, and nods could be seen far and wide. "Knights and soldiers are trained for war, and have a sworn duty to protect. But the civilians who did so much to help us, and themselves, did so with little training and infinite courage. In token of that, Crown Prince Roald has some special purses to present to four special people with His Majesty's thanks. Without all of them we wouldn't be here today, and that's the truth."

The applause and cheering as Fanche, Saefas, Zerhalm, and a scarlet-faced Tobe were honoured and rewarded was entirely deafening. In other places with other crowds there might have been jealousy or resentment at individuals chosen in part as representatives, but everyone at New Hope had either been there or heard more than enough to know Kel spoke true; that these four had contributed to the great rescue in ways no others could have achieved. Kel was bursting with pride tempered by acute butterflies, and when Tobe stood blinking at the velvet bag in his hand she went to his side and laid an arm across his shaking shoulders. Her parents followed to stand behind them.

"And there's one more thing." She took a breath, hand squeezing the boy. "Legally

speaking, Tobe's been my indentured servant since March, when we met in Queensgrace. But he's become far more than an indispensable help to me. He's my son in all but name and he's come to count me as his ma, so today we put it right. By the King's grace, and with my parents' delighted consent, he is today Tobeis of Mindelan."

The silence was absolute as they knelt together before Archpriest Holloran for the blessing that sealed the legal papers Roald and Shinko had brought; the roar that followed might have lifted roofs if they hadn't been stone. Kel waited it out before raising a hand.

"I couldn't stop you all celebrating if I tried and I've no wish to do so, but please remember we still have serious business this evening—so keep it clean and sober, will you, for everyone's sake?"

They did, but it was a close-run thing.

Replacing the usual Mabon harvest ceremony, dedication of the shrines took place at sunset, day and night balanced, barriers between realms at their weakest. Kel stood on the terrace to one side of the shallow bay with Roald, Shinko, Daine, and all the guests in best finery; she wore her owl-embroidered kimonos, attracting startled looks as she walked to her place. Irnai stood beside her in a simple, richly coloured blue dress Kel had given her, and Neal behind her with Yuki in Queenscove kimonos; Tobe stood with her parents, looking dazed and fingering a Mindelan tunic that had belonged to her nephew Lachran as if it might suddenly vanish. On the other side of the bay immortals, including Tkaa, Kitten, and a surprisingly well-behaved Junior, formed an impressive group rising from younglings through smaller spidrens and Quenuresh to tall basilisks and taller ogres. Below them on the main level all the soldiery save a duty watch stood in company formation, armour gleaming, officers to the fore with Merric and Seaver. Civilians packed round, well-scrubbed children within the low fence of the playground and equally well-scrubbed adults massed behind, spilling back to the green.

An act of dedication was not in itself complicated. An offering was made, a prayer said; what counted was sincerity, not splendour. Even a simple home shrine, no more than a token of the god wetted with a drop of beer, might receive the musical chimes signalling acceptance by divine power. Kel had had warring impulses, to honour the gods as richly as she and New Hope could afford, and to maintain simplicity in keeping with refugee poverty and the minimal fuss she preferred. As the scale of ceremony had sunk in she'd inclined to the richer option, wanting to impress in keeping with Roald's and Shinko's status, but in the end sensibly split the difference. Archpriest Holloran had little jugs of good wine and bags of clean grain, some of the first from New Hope's own fields, and had strongly approved her choices.

She found herself holding her breath all the same as he completed his prayer to Lord Mithros and stepped forward to pour out grain and splash wine on the base of the statue. But the chimes were immediate and louder than she'd expected, with a stranger noise behind, a distant fury of battle, clashing arms and cries in combat. She saw Holloran's face pale and heard the collective gust and rustle as everyone made the gods' circle. Strong voiced, Holloran gave thanks to his patron for his acceptance of the offering and turned to face the crowd, face alight.

"I have heard that noise of far-off battle twice before and it is Lord Mithros's own voice. Beyond doubt he watches us tonight, and tells us all that you of New Hope are in his care."

The shrine to Mithros was to the left of the central double-width niche, and in deep silence Holloran crossed to its other side where the Goddess stood. His prayer wasn't the mealy -mouthed afterthought Kel had grown used to the Goddess receiving in military circles devoted to strength and fighting prowess but as full as his prayer to Mithros, invoking the beauty of the maiden, fertility of the mother, and wisdom of the crone. Stepping forward again he poured and splashed, and again the chimes came at once, this time woven with sounds of hounds moiling and belling on a scent. Holloran's face was charged with fervour as he thanked the Goddess, and Kel could see the immortals showing surprise in quick glances at one another; even Quenuresh looked interested.

Shakith's statue was beyond the Goddess, blind eyes staring and the winged staff of prophecy in her hand. For this Holloran called Irnai forward: his prayer thanked the High One for her preservation and aid at Rathhausak, and she poured out the grain and wine. The noise that came with the chimes was the one Kel had heard from Irnai's mouth when she had voiced the prophecy, great hawks crying somewhere far above, and for a heartbeat light crackled around Irnai, her hair standing away from her head. To Kel's relief, and from his huffed breath Wyldon's, the girl didn't collapse as she had when greater power moved through her, though her face was remote as she walked back to Kel's side, with a fey smile. Ignoring protocol Kel knelt to hug her a moment, smoothing her hair, and Irnai kissed her cheek before whispering that she was fine and freeing herself. Standing again Kel saw identical looks of approval in her parents' eyes and Wyldon's, and her worry dissolved in amusement at the thought of teasing her mother with the observation.

After Shakith came Lord Gainel, in a sweeping coat with one foot on smooth ground and one on jagged spikes to represent his divided stance between divine order and mortal chaos. He never spoke to mortals directly nor entered the mortal realms and with his chimes there was no further sound, but to everyone's surprise, including her own, Quenuresh jerked slightly and after a moment shook her head as if to clear it before announcing in a dry voice that the Dream King blessed their nights. Holloran had by this stage passed from exultation back to wonder, and after giving the god due thanks added a word to Quenuresh to acknowledge her conveyance of the divine message.

On the other side of the funnel, nearer Kel, the shrines beyond Mithros's were those of the Black God and Lord Sakuyo. When Holloran came to the Black God's and bowed to the statue, a robed and hooded figure with no face visible, tension rose and he swallowed hard but didn't delay. Grain and wine were poured and the chimes sounded, behind them the noise of wind soughing through bare trees, and behind that a silence so deep it burned in the ear. Gravely Holloran bowed, giving thanks, and before continuing to the next shrine turned to face the crowd.

"Being unfamiliar with Lord Sakuyo I prayed here earlier asking that if there were anything special I should do the High One let me know. And while the Lady Knight Commander was showing us around this astonishing fort I found myself believing strongly that our offering here should be of sake, the rice-wine of Yaman. Lady Yukimi found some, the clear liquid in this jug, and it seemed to me right she and Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Shinkokami, who have worshipped Lord Sakuyo all their lives, should make this offering on our behalf."

The crowd murmured interested understanding and approval as Yuki and Cricket, resplendent in kimonos and face-paint, moved smoothly forward. Used to Yamani masks Kel knew both were deeply moved and apprehensive, and could see a slight tremor in their hands as they waited for Holloran to complete his prayer mentioning the welcome strength of Tortall's Yamani alliance and the grace of their future queen. Yuki poured the grain and Shinko, following Yamani custom, touched a finger wet with sake to the god's lips before pouring the jug's contents onto the base of the statue. For a moment nothing happened and in the strained silence Kel felt her heart fill with alarm, but then the chimes sounded deafeningly enough to make everyone jump and

over them a great peal of unearthly, booming laughter rang that made the pale stone of the cliff blaze with many-hued light.

Recovering herself as sound and light faded, Kel saw Kitten bouncing with admiration and couldn't stop a laugh bubbling out. Laughing themselves, faces shining, Shinko and Yuki curtseyed deeply to the statue and after Holloran's strained prayer of thanks came forward.

"Lord Sakuyo likes his jests, as you heard." Shinko's voice was intense but not loud, and Kel saw people craning to hear. "He is a most wonderful god and in Yaman many laugh at his tricks and those we play on ourselves in his name. But I know of only two people living who have had the grace of hearing him laugh, and there will be much wonder in my land when they learn he laughed here, in the hearing of so many."

The crowd had been shaken and didn't know what to make of this, but Shinko herself had already won their hearts and there was a muted cheer. Face serious, she turned to Kel.

"Lady Keladry, you will remember, I think, that in Yamani law and custom those two people are known as Sakuyo's Blessed and have the right to enter anywhere and be welcomed. It is not a duty I had anticipated but as a Princess of the Imperial House it is my honour and obligation to name myself and all here as his Blessed, with the same right, and so I do." She turned back to the crowd. "It will mean little in Tortall, I think, but when I write to tell His Imperial Majesty of tonight's wonder, tokens of jade and gold will be sent, and should any of you travel to Yaman you will be most welcome and honoured."

She and Yuki curtseyed again, to crowd, immortals, and guests, before returning to places beside and behind Kel. Only a quick squeeze of hands was possible but Kel could feel their trembling, and the emotion in their eyes was plain. She heard Roald draw sharp breath as he hugged Shinko, and Neal embraced Yuki for a longer moment. Her parents' expressions were abstracted, and the sardonic voice she sometimes heard in some detached part of her mind murmured that if they weren't calculating what status as Sakuyo's Blessed might mean when they next returned to the Islands they ought to be. She tore her gaze back to Holloran, who met it with a look at once exalted, serene, and apprehensive, and she managed a nod before Daine came to her side.

Together they followed Holloran to the central double niche. Holloran had tried to persuade Daine to speak the prayer but she'd flatly refused, asking him if he'd care to supplicate his ma and da, and adding she had a hard enough time standing up to them already. Kel didn't think the Archpriest had been persuaded by this familial theology but certainly wasn't going to argue with her friend, and listened in the charged silence as Holloran invoked the wedded gods and praised the wild magic of their daughter that had proven so great an aid to New Hope's people. Kel had agreed to make the offering and as she walked forward to face the statues could feel the weight of peoples' attention.

Iestyn of Goatstrack had done a fine job, Kel thought, looking at the gods' faces as she loosened the tie and poured grain at their feet. Holloran handed her the wine, and with her heart hammering she poured it, barely finishing before chimes sounded once, again. Silver fire rimmed niche and statues, growing to a heatless blaze that forced her back, eyes watering; she almost stumbled as kimono skirts restricted her stride but a sturdy arm caught her round the shoulders and she heard Daine's voice close to her ear.

"Da! Stop it!"

Kel blinked away tears and her breath caught. Standing before their shrine Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady were as Iestyn had carved them, arms around one another's waists and carrying bow and spiral. Their faces were not those of the carvings but their expressions were the

same, though infinite eyes glinted with light of their own and Kel saw in Weiryn's something that reminded her of Daine's liking for owls.

"Don't scold me, daughter. It is my first great shrine." Weiryn's voice was overwhelming, deep, as rich as the velveted antlers springing from his head. As her ears rang and sight returned Kel saw Holloran had dropped to his knees, face upturned to the manifest gods like a baby's at the breast, and she heard the rustle and gasps as everyone knelt with him. Even the immortals lowered themselves, spidrens crouching and basilisks and ogres bowing their heads to peer from under brows, but Daine's arm was holding her up. When it was removed she tried to bend her own knees but Daine seized her hand, pulling her forward and keeping her upright before letting her go and grasping Weiryn's arms, turning up her face for his kiss.

"I know, Da, and I'm happy for you, but please don't be too godly. It scares people."

"And attracts them, love." The Green Lady was stunningly beautiful, her dress a forest of tissue-thin layers swirling with embroidery and her voice the comfort of a cool hand on a sweating brow yet laced with amusement. "He dazzled me that Beltane night, you know."

"Oh Ma." Mother and daughter hugged tightly, and Kel dropped her eyes as much in embarrassment at their intimacy as in belated respect. "You always liked a show. How's Gran'da?"

"Happy in the Peaceful Realms. The Black God lets him visit us sometimes."

"We have time enough for news, daughter." Weiryn's voice also rolled with amusement. "Will you not present your friend?"

Laughing, Daine let her mother go. "You already know everyone anyway. But yes, of course." She drew herself up. "Ma, Da, this is Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small, who commands here. Kel, Lord Weiryn of the Hunt, and the Green Lady, Sarra Beneksri."

Kel curtseyed as deeply as kimonos allowed, and raised her eyes to find both gods intent on her. Daine had once tried to describe Gainel's eyes and these must be similar, infinite depths in which stars moved and distances swirled, with a gaze that saw everything with utterly inhuman detachment beyond love or pity. Something in the Green Lady's gaze made her uneasy, as if an urgent warning was going unheeded, but Weiryn was speaking and she had no time to think more of it.

"Protector of the Small, the elemental of the Chamber and my siblings Shakith and Gainel guided you to Rathhausak, yet you might have failed on your way, or fallen to the axe of Stenmun Kinslayer." Weiryn's regard was entirely unsettling and emotions churned Kel's heart and stomach. "All gods rejoice that you did not, and won through to end the contempt of that mage for our decrees." His attention swung out to all. "Rise, mortals, and hear us." He looked sideways a moment, and Kel could have sworn he winked at Quenuresh. "Immortals also."

His command was compelling and she saw Holloran rise, trembling, and heard others following; a glance showed open-mouthed faces peering up through the evening dark at the glowing figures on the terrace.

"For you, Protector, I have a gift in token of that rejoicing." He offered her the great bow in his hand, and from somewhere produced a quiver with three arrows whose vanes shimmered red and orange. "This bow will seek its mark, and the mark these arrows find will burn, be it metal or stone, for they are fletched with sunbird feathers. And my blessing lies on all who hunt to feed the people of this place. Their steps shall be warded and their game plentiful, by gift of the boar and deer gods." His voice dropped and Kel didn't know how far it carried, though from their

startled looks Roald and Shinko heard. "The rabbits need no asking to multiply."

"The childbeds of New Hope have my blessing and the mothers shall rest easy after labour." The Green Lady's eyes shone as she handed the spiral she carried to Kel, and her voice rang. "Your kitchens also shall be blessed, and the food you grow shall savour of its essence."

Yes! A knot untied in Kel as the wildest and most daring of her thoughts about what might happen fell into place. Opening her arms despite the gifts she found herself clutching, she curtseyed grateful thanks and straightened, letting her arms fall again to her sides.

"High Ones, I thank you, for myself and all here. Your gifts are beyond all price." She took a deep breath, seeing encouragement in Daine's eyes. "I know we can offer nothing to match the Divine Realms, but will it please you dine with us, that we may honour you with more than symbols of our worship and labour?"

The gods' voices came in extraordinary unison. "It will."

Suspecting she was grinning like a fool but not caring in the least Kel turned, extending one laden hand to Daine and the other to a dazed Holloran, and started towards the steps down from the terrace. Weiryn and the Green Lady fell in behind and she trusted everyone to follow as the crowd parted before them, faces shining with shock. Distantly she was aware of cooks racing from the back of the assembly for kitchens and messhall, and though she felt like skipping walked with slow care to give them time. As they neared the hall doors Tobe scampered to open them and take the awkward bow, quiver, and spiral from her; his eyes were huge and she ruffled his hair as she swept into the hall and turned.

"Be welcome, High Ones, to our feast and our hall."

New Hope lacked the fine linens and silverware that would grace such a feast at the court or any wealthy fief, but to Kel's eyes the bare wooden tables crowded with candles and simple place settings looked good amid the striking stone carvings. The gods obviously agreed, for the Green Lady waved a hand and candles burst alight; smiling, Weiryn also gestured, silver fire spilling from his hand, and the crystalline pillars began to glow from within, filling the hall with shimmering washes of colour. As soon as she'd seen the basilisks' work the day before Kel had decided the unexpected beauty of the hall would be a pleasing highpoint after the ceremonies, and with the added godlight the stunned expressions that came to everyone's faces as they entered were all she could have hoped for, and more.

The food was a riot of taste and the wine she cautiously sipped exploded in her mouth as the feast became a delightful whirl of moments she could never remember with any coherence—a grinning Numair introducing Lindhall to his in-laws and the older mage's chagrin when Bonedancer flapped from his shoulder to perch on the Green Lady's arm, clattering his beak with pleasure and rubbing his head against her breast; Shinko deep in conversation with Fanche and Saefas, asking about their lives at New Hope and unaware of Kitten by her side making the beads of her necklace glow; Wyldon, in a state of astonishment that transformed his austerity, hesitantly asking Weiryn about dogs and the god answering with pleased humour and a tale of the hounds that ran with the Wild Hunt; Roald absently plucking an inquisitive baby spidren from his leg and hastily putting it down as he talked treaties with Quenuresh and ate cheese; Holloran trying to absorb that he was dining with gods and laughing with wonder at the absurdity of it all; Tkaa gravely remarking to Weiryn that immortal young of all kinds seemed to mature faster in the mortal realms, and perhaps he might convey as much to Diamondflame should they meet; her parents making her blush and Tobe laugh with stories of her childhood in the Islands; Neal in earnest conversation with the Green Lady about the care of pregnancy and later, when all had spilled back outside and musicians among the soldiery and civilians assembled into an inspired impromptu band, leading Yuki in a dance around the green. A reluctant griffin kit had been

summoned away after the meal by ringing cries from above, and Quenuresh departed with her kin, remarking that she hadn't been so surprised in centuries and wondering what the Divine Realms were coming to, but the gods stayed and danced, Weiryn's antlers gleaming in the light of fires hastily built on each side and the Green Lady's dress swirling and glittering as they moved among other couples, Roald and Shinko, Daine and Numair, Fanche and Saefas, her grinning parents, Tobe and Irnai, Idrius and Olka Valestone, all manner of refugee couples and soldiers with refugees, and with a sense of bemusement Kel knew would intensify, herself and Wyldon.

After a while the gods withdrew with Daine and Numair, sitting before their shrine in a family circle. Kel saw Daine rest her head on her mother's shoulder and Kitten climb on to the goddess's lap before she turned away, not wishing to intrude, and went to find her own parents, talking with Neal and Yuki about Lord Sakuyo's blessing. Not much later, however, she felt a tug at her sleeve and looked down to see Kitten.

The antlered god wants to talk to you before he goes, Kel. Her mindvoice became thoughtful. He is nice. My grandsire says gods are annoying but he has not annoyed me and says my spellwork is very good.

Kel laughed, agreed it was excellent, and took the dragonet's paw until they came to the broad steps to the terrace, where Kitten scrambled ahead of her. The gods were standing and Kel was surprised to notice Numair was taller than both, though Weiryn's antlers gave him an additional foot no mortal could match. He regarded her gravely as she approached and she again felt the unease that had possessed her when the Green Lady had first looked at her.

"Protector." Daine jabbed a finger and he glanced down with a smile. "Keladry, then, as my daughter is so scant with titles and says you do not care for the name the elemental gave you. What I can say is limited, both in true uncertainty that besets this time and by command of the Great Gods, who restrict the interference in mortal affairs we are permitted. That mage's necromancy was one thing, your mortal wars another, and no business of mine, but these are not wholly mortal affairs any longer. We have waited since Dunlath in hope that its example would be followed, but you are the first to do so. That is in large part why my brothers and sisters were so forthcoming earlier."

Not at all sure how she ought to respond to this confidence, Kel dropped a curtsey and said the first thing that came into her mind.

"Our immortals are refugees also, my Lord, driven here by war."

"Perhaps so, but other immortals fight for the Scanran king and would claim territory your own neglects." Having seen the poverty of so many northern villages and knowing only the Scanran threat had forced royal attention away from Tyra, Carthak, and Yaman, Kel couldn't deny it and her eyes dropped. "It is no shame on you, Keladry, but it is a complication. And Shakith says others among the immortals, as well as stormwings, have parts yet to play here before time is resolved."

Meeting his gaze Kel was swept by dizziness and a sense of what she might have called the god's pity if she hadn't known he felt no human emotions. When he spoke again his tone was brusquer.

"Keep faith in us, Keladry, and we will keep faith in you. The elemental named you well, and all that happens here has our attention, as you have our blessings and the gifts we may give. But we cannot prevent all we might wish nor protect all we bless. I cannot say more. We must return to the Divine Realms. Make your farewell, Sarra."

The Green Lady embraced Daine, and with a slight frown turned to Kel, kissing her

forehead with lips that burned cold.

"Sarra." Weiryn's voice sounded sharp.

"Yes, yes, I break no rule. Keladry, my spiral will give virtue of itself, and if a woman prays to me here I will answer. But it is also of the Great Goddess and will summon her in your need if you call. Remember."

"Thank you, my Lady. Thank you both."

Their voices were for a second time in unison. "You have deserved your blessings." And with a swirl of silver fire they were gone, leaving Kel blinking, Kitten chortling, and Daine frowning puzzlement.

Kel dabbed watering eyes. "What was that all about?"

"I don't know, Kel, but I don't like it." Daine shrugged. "Gods are fair confusing, even Ma, and that's when they're being helpful. When they get all mysterious there's no knowing what they really want."

"It's always like that." Numair rested a hand on Kel's shoulder. "I tried asking Weiryn about that prophecy but he said he had nothing to add to Shakith's words. And if Shakith has anything to add I dare say it'll come the same way and leave us no wiser." He shook his head. "I think you should be as careful as you possibly can, Kel. Something's up. But keep doing what you do so amazingly well and try not to worry about what you can't change." A smile lit his dark face. "When all's said and done, eight gods have blessed you tonight with hundreds to witness it, and two came to dinner. The court'll be hopping sideways for weeks when Roald and Shinko get back and report what's happened."

Kel wasn't sure she cared for that either, however true, yet Numair was right there was no point fretting on things she could do nothing about. But for all her tiredness and the lingering effects of the unaccustomed, god-bolstered wine she did not sleep for a long while.

The aftermath of the extraordinary evening took extensive cleaning and straightening next morning, for which Kel bullied everyone awake. Roald and Shinko had been supposed to leave by noon, but Roald unilaterally asserted authority to postpone departure for a day, without any objection from his entourage, and spent several hours talking with basilisks and ogres, as well as refugees bold enough to greet him. After some thought Kel took advantage of Holloran's continued presence to make a request, and in mid-afternoon a long procession rode to Haven, where the Archpriest blessed the mass grave of its defenders, making up for the scant ceremony with which they'd been buried, and dedicated the ground as a resting place for New Hope's residents. Using another handful of their first grain and water from the spring he invoked the Black God's peace for all who lay and would lie here, and chimes sounded with that soughing of wind and burning silence behind them. The only distress was the sight of three stormwings high above, wings glinting in the sun—the first Kel had seen since the return from Rathhausak.

Riding Peachblossom back to New Hope beside Wyldon, he looked at her with his usual dryness touched by wonder and irony.

"More congratulations are in order, Lady Knight. I thought I spoke in jest when I said you were setting the gods by the ears as well as Vanget and I. I should have known better." A rueful amusement entered his voice. "It is going to look very odd in my quarterly report when I have to describe what happened last night. And just now, come to that."

She grinned at him. "Oh I don't know. Military brevity's a wonderful thing. 'The shrines

at New Hope were dedicated in the usual manner, and offerings accepted by the relevant gods.'"

"Two of whom stayed to eat and dance, the District Commander taking opportunity to enquire after means of breeding warhounds."

They both laughed, startling Neal, riding behind them with Yuki, so much that Magewhisper pranced. Wyldon shot him a dark look before returning attention to Kel and lowering his voice.

"Jesting aside, Keladry, I don't like this warning Numair says Lord Weiryn gave you, nor that he could get nothing further from them about that prophecy. I know it's impossible in war, but do be careful."

"Of course." What else could she say? "I don't think anyone's care will make much difference. Even the gods'. Master Harailt was right. They too wait to see what happens. We can only keep on doing our best."

Uneasy with the conversation she pulled Peachblossom away from him and gestured Yuki to come forward on her beautiful new mare, a wedding present from Duke Baird.

"Yuki, could you tell Lord Wyldon of Sakuyo's Blessed and these tokens? My parents are too busy scheming about all the hospitality they'll be able to command when they're next in Yaman."

Face dimpling with suppressed laughter, Yuki complied.


	8. Chapter 6

Invasions

Chapter Six — Invasions

25–30 September

Royal visitors and divine dancing notwithstanding, urgency of harvesting meant Adner had everyone he could order or cajole back in the fields well before Roald and Shinko departed with all guests except Yuki, who set about decorating and rearranging Neal's quarters to her satisfaction and helping in the kitchens. Fanche and St'aara ruthlessly organised all but the youngest children to bag, stack, or assist with the hot work of boiling, sealing, and storing; an alarmed but very competent Amiir'aan found himself minding a dozen babes and toddlers. There was more to reap and pick than anyone had thought likely, and the food sampled was extremely good—the goddess's blessing, people said cheerily—but jars ran short, so carpenters turned lathes till they smoked and basilisks roared rock-spells at the results. Some wood was green and the resulting containers lop-sided, but once stone they could neither flavour their contents nor leak and no-one cared about appearances.

Patrols were reduced to provide more fieldguards, dogs and sparrows reinforcing the five that still went out every day, while Uinse's Company One took over the gatehouse and alures. Off-duty squads joined refugees in harvesting, adding lightly armed but trained fighters, and the ogres proved willing to work with Adner while there was so much to be done so swiftly. But with more than five hundred pairs of hands working north and south of the fin and carts in constant motion to and fro security was stretched thinner than Kel or Brodhelm liked, and she fretted over her decision to push cultivation in the southern valley.

"Don't second guess yourself, Lady Kel." Brodhelm was phlegmatic. "It's only for ten days or so and we need that food. No good keeping everyone safe at home only to find ourselves starving at Imbolc."

That was unarguable but Kel didn't like the extent to which people were exposed, and word from Mastiff that a Steadfast patrol had encountered a fair-sized Scanran war party and taken casualties did nothing to ease her mind; worse, the report had no names so she could only hope Dom and his squad hadn't been involved. Further word from Northwatch of a tauros attack close to them, suggesting the elusive immortals had gone back west, was cold comfort: Kel felt guiltily glad they had become less of a threat to her own people but concerns about how they were evading the search intensified. A tauros was not by any account subtle, and most were killed fairly quickly once spotted. Stormwings were also seen, by patrols and over the valley, always high up but inducing oppressive awareness of what attracted them, though sight of the griffins was more positive. Still uneasy after pulling an extra half-squad from the alures to reinforce Sergeant Connac in the south valley Kel lost temper with her fretful mood and took herself to the archery ranges to try Lord Weiryn's gift.

The Green Lady's spiral hung in the infirmary, to the interest of women enduring pregnancy, but the bow and strangely fletched arrows Kel kept. When she'd first held it it had felt very odd and then superbly right in her hand, despite being by far the tallest bow she'd ever tried, and she suspected it had adjusted itself to her size and strength. What wood it was no-one could say, even Urthor, Company Eight's experienced bowyer. It was a self bow, a single piece of wood, but the grain was wrong and the colour too dark for yew and without flecking; whether its back and belly were all heartwood or mixed heart- and sapwood was anyone's guess. Nor could

the material of the string be identified beyond saying it wasn't hemp, flax, or silk, but Kel didn't care: the stave bent easily for her to string, the nocks seemed integral, the string held tension so well it hummed when she plucked it, and the whole was beautiful, a weapon that appealed beyond utility, as the damascened steel of her glaive and sword made them more than deadly.

With everyone in the fields the main level was deserted, and she took the chance to move a target to the front of the empty barracks and take her stance all but touching the railing of the livestock pens. The range was more than five hundred feet, and while she'd certainly sent arrows that far before with a self bow she'd been aiming at charging bandits, not a small bullseye. Uinse, standing watch on the eastern alure to replace a man she'd sent to the fieldguard, whistled when he saw what she was doing.

"That's some shot you're trying, Lady Kel."

"Lord Weiryn said this bow would seek its mark, so let's see."

She had broadheads and needlepoints in her quiver, with goose-fletching and slot-cut nocks. The sunbird-fletched ones Weiryn had provided, which were warm to the touch, seemed too dangerous to use in anything but deadly earnest; whatever sunbirds might be—she'd meant to ask Daine or Numair before they'd departed for Steadfast. In any case, she wanted to know what the bow alone could do. Deciding there was no point shilly-shallying, she nocked a needlepoint, automatically placing the cock-vane away from the stave, swung the bow up with a thrill at its easy feel, drew, and let fly. She lost sight of the arrow but from his vantage-point Uinse whistled.

"It went right through , Lady Kel, in the bull so far as I could tell." "I'm not that good a shot, Uinse." "Maybe not with another bow."

She squinted disbelief but when she trotted across to the target found he'd been right. A hole was punched an inch from the centre of the bullseye, and the arrow buried in the barrack wall. Humming surprise she worked it loose and walked back to her position. Three broadheads in quick succession with a shallower draw also found the bullseye in a quivering group. Uinse and other sentries called appreciation and she glared, finger circling outwards to tell them to keep attention where it belonged. Grinning they complied, and after a moment's thought she walked round the livestock pens to the nearest steps to the shelf and climbed to the alure. Her range was over eight hundred feet, approaching the limit of any longbow she'd seen or heard of.

Archers firing from the alure were usually facing the other way, and after a quick scan of the fields to make sure nothing was happening she positioned herself in front of a crenel; cracking her elbow on a merlon as she drew would not help. She'd stuck with broadheads but after nocking again swung the bow up fast and drew as fully as she could—and again the arrow thwapped into the target. At this distance she couldn't be sure but it looked like another bullseye and even in her childhood dreams she'd never been that kind of shot. Three more fast broadheads followed with the same result. The sentries were sneaking glances and Uinse, nearest her, was openly watching but there was no banter and she thought they were as spooked as she. Wordlessly she held out the bow and Uinse came forward eagerly, but as soon as he held it shook his head, giving it back.

"I don't think so, Lady Kel. It's a one-woman bow, I reckon. It doesn't want me to use it." She raised her eyebrows. "That's what I felt." His face was thoughtful. "In an emergency, maybe. It didn't feel hostile, just wrong." He grinned. "Maybe it's like Peachblossom. When you rescued Gil at Haven he was fine but anyone near him in the stables had best watch feet and fingers. I'm taking no chances when there's no need, and so I'll tell the lads when they ask." He gestured and heads hastily swivelled. "Eyes where they should be, lads. Show's over."

Given her suspicions about the bow adjusting to her Kel couldn't argue, and turned to something Uinse's words had reminded her about.

"Tell me, what are the folks who were, um, unconvinced about the Wildmage's parentage saying since they … showed up in person?"

He grinned. "Not a lot, Lady Kel. No room for doubt now, is there?" "No bad feelings?"

"Not that I've seen—why would anyone not like having a Godborn on our side?" He scratched his head. "It is odd. I always thought gods were … I dunno, ageless. I certainly didn't reckon there was one only ten years older than me, and born a peasant at that." He grinned again. "Gives a man hope, Lady Kel. Maybe I'll get to be a god too some day."

"In your dreams."

He laughed, and she made her way thoughtfully back to the target. All four arrows were indeed bulls, clustered tightly, so Weiryn had been serious. After unstringing the bow and shifting the target back where it belonged, she went to her quarters and put bow and quiver with her wall-fighting gear. A longbow was no use on horseback or in close combat, and her glaive only of use on the alures if an enemy had already gained them; the full armour needed in field combat would be as much hindrance as protection if she were walking walls in a siege, so her ready gear was divided between functions. Bow and quiver joined half-armour, staff, and a spare griffin-band; one was always in her belt-pouch, and she'd sewn others into the linings of bascinet and close helm.

After the evening meal she invited Neal and Yuki, Merric, and Seaver to her quarters and told them how her marksmanship seemed to have improved, and what Uinse had said in declining the chance to see if his might do the same.

"From the alure?" Merric's eyes were wide.

"Yes and the target was right over by the barracks."

"Kel, that's … what, nine hundred feet?"

"Over eight hundred for sure."

"I doubt I could hit the barracks at that range, far less a target."

"Not just the target, the bull." Neal rested chin on hand, pondering. "Kel, the only person I've ever seen shoot even remotely like that is Daine. Alanna was always telling me what an amazing shot she is, and when we met up with her once—the same trip on which I met those smugglers, actually—she got her to demonstrate. I've never seen anything like it. One of my brothers reckoned the longbow his weapon of choice so I've heard archers' tall tales and this was up there with the best of them." He fell silent, clearly thinking of the brothers he'd lost in the Immortals War, and Yuki reached to grasp his hand.

"So's four bulls at more than eight hundred feet, Neal." Seaver leaned back, grinning. "Lord Weiryn said it'd seek its mark, didn't he, Kel? Seems he meant it."

"That was my point, Seaver. When I asked Daine where she'd got her bow she said it was a present. She didn't say from whom, but what's the betting it was her da?"

"Huh." Merric's face was thoughtful. "And Uinse said it felt wrong when he held it?"

"Yes. Do you want to try?"

"Please."

She got the bow and strung it. Each of them held it in turn, shaking their heads, and Yuki, the last, tried to unstring it.

"Kel, I can't even bend this thing."

The knights all tried, and though Neal, the tallest, just managed to do so he couldn't string it again. Surprised, Kel took it back, lodging the base against her foot, and it bent easily in her hands.

"Well, that settles it." Merric was definite. "I know exactly what Uinse meant. It wasn't hostile, but it wasn't for me."

"Uinse said it was like Peachblossom. In an emergency he'll do whatever's needed but otherwise he's a one-woman horse. Except for Tobe, of course."

"He's a vicious brute, Kel, as you know perfectly well." Neal radiated indignation and got his laugh. "But it's a good comparison."

"So what we have is a guaranteed shot at eight hundred feet plus." Merric frowned. "Kel, that's a weapon we need to think about. A mage cooking up a spell might stand at that range and be sure he was safe. Or if we ever face a siege, gods forfend, any engines and their crews would be closer than that. I should talk to Brodhelm and Uinse about this."

Kel waved permission; she'd have done so anyway. With the bow restored to its place the talk became general, Merric and Seaver considering Roald's marriage, sighing over Shinko's beauty, and teasing Neal and Yuki about wedded bliss.

"You wait," Neal retorted to an unsubtle sally from Merric that made Yuki raise her fan. "You'll find out. If you're lucky enough to marry a Yamani, that is, supposing you could find one mad enough to have you."

"Is Yuki mad then that she had you?"

Kel laughed with them but when Merric's remarks remained on the bawdy side she kicked them out, pleading a long day. They went with half-hearted protests, Yuki with a giggle as Neal's arm snaked possessively round her waist. Her friends' obvious happiness and Shinko's contentment with Roald were welcome to Kel, who could not begrudge them joy and wouldn't have liked herself if she could; but the loneliness she'd felt at Steadfast pressed on her.

After seeing Tobe abed, Jump by his side, and sitting with them to tug the dog's tattered ears and tell about the marvellous bow, she returned to her rooms. With combat wear, armour, and weapons set ready, she stripped off shirt, breeches, and small clothing, folding them before reaching for her nightshirt, and caught sight of herself in the metal mirror she'd hung to don her kimonos for the dedication. Straightening, she considered herself dispassionately, looking down and in the mirror: though more heavyset, as well as scarred, her body was of the same kind as her Mama's, wide-hipped and small-breasted—a contrast Ilane told her changed once her breasts had enlarged with milk, never decreasing to their former size. Kel's were what she thought men called apple breasts, high and wide-spaced, to Lalasa's despair when she'd tried dresses that depended on having a cleavage. Nor were her hips as wide as her mother's, thigh muscles and thickened waist making a column, not the hourglass men like Dom admired. Strength and endurance served

her well and she wouldn't trade them for the world, but despite what her mother said about noblemen who thought of wives as they thought of mares, it wasn't a body she could imagine a man wanting; desiring to touch as she desired to be touched, to enter in that mystery of which she remained ignorant.

Sticking out her tongue at her reflection she pulled on her nightshirt, blew out the candle, and tucked herself in; but after a few minutes of staring into the dark got up again, slipped the nightshirt off, and lay back on top of the bed, letting one hand rise to her breasts and the other drift lower. Imagination of Dom's hands instead of her own was familiar but memory of the looks in Yuki's and Shinko's newly married eyes accompanied him. She wanted both, but they would not be hers on her virgin road of knighthood; perhaps she should have done and dedicate her warrior chastity to the Goddess, content with the bloodier penetrations of glaive and sword righteously used. Awareness of Tobe only doors away limited movement and sound but at last the familiar ritual of solitary nights past and to come was complete. Putting her nightshirt on with a shiver she slid gratefully under the blankets into her body's warmth and let the brief satisfaction carry her into sleep.

Next day was second last of the month and Kel spent the morning tackling the inventory required of commanders every calend. The most important thing was newly harvested grains and fruits, and she spent a weary couple of hours counting bushels, barrels, jars, and crocks. The chief cook and Fanche were conducting an experiment, storing samples of fruits, grain, and variously dried, cured, and smoked meats in different chambers of the cave system, and Kel conscientiously went to count those too; if she took the opportunity to inspect the tunnel to the putative look-out post there was no-one to say she shouldn't, and the two full spirals basilisks, ogres, and miners had already roared and hewn out were pleasing. Its floor was steeply pitched and after walking up and down she estimated it rose nearly fifty feet, almost a quarter of the way, and with the additional labour available during the snows she might reasonably hope to have her look-out post manned sometime in spring. The limestone blocks building up in the cavern were a bonus, and the back of her mind set to wondering how they might best be used.

Cheered, she returned to paperwork, sending the inventory to the clerks to be copied, and set about written reports. Knowing it would amuse Wyldon she used the bland military brevity they'd discussed, with "the shrines' dedications having been accepted in the usual manner with additional noises Archpriest Holloran deemed auspicious" and "manifest gods" who "dined and participated in customary dances". Reading it with enjoyment she added an equally bland paragraph about the range and accuracy she'd managed with the bow, which would provoke disbelieving requests for clarification, noted Lady Yukimi of Queenscove was now resident, and sent it to the clerks. All that remained was a weapons inventory, and she collared Uinse to help, finishing in time for lunch.

To everyone's surprise the godlight Weiryn had set in the pillars continued to wash walls and tables with all the colours the basilisks had induced in the stone, perceptibly warm on the skin —which promised to be of even greater use in winter than the saving in candles. Most people were lunching in the fields and despite the remarkable improvements in flavour since the Green Lady's blessing the only others present were some of Uinse's men rotating from guard duty and Fanche's party taking a break from preserving, Irnai and Yuki among them. Kel sat by the seer, listening to happy chatter about kitchen work she liked and a bounty of nuts found beyond the fin. She said little but took ease in Irnai's peace, and hugged her before watching her skip back to the

kitchens.

Yuki gave her a look. "Planning on adopting a daughter as well, Kel?"

She gave her a friend a glare but relented. "If she wants it. I've come to care for her very much but she seems happy as is."

"Does she live with anyone?"

"Zerhalm and the Rathhausak folk look out for her, and she sleeps in their bit of the barracks."

"Have you asked her about adoption?"

"Not yet. The time's never seemed right, and there's Tobe to think of. He and I decided to go ahead at Steadfast, when we talked to Ma, but we didn't expect it to happen so soon. Da had just agreed when Cricket asked them to come to the dedications, and they went galloping off to see Duke Turomot there and then."

Yuki dimpled. "So they said." She hesitated. "I was surprised, Kel. Do you not want children of your own? I know I do, as soon as possible."

Kel shrugged. "I'm not against it, Yuki, but a husband is traditionally required and I've no prospect of that. With Tobe it just seemed right—he's never belonged anywhere, really, and gods know he had a bad time in Queensgrace with that fat bully of an innkeeper."

Yuki nodded, knowing of Alvik's neglect and heavy hand from Neal, but her eyes were concerned, suspecting something of what beset Kel but unsure how she might broach such a topic. "He's a good boy, and a wonder with horses. Did I tell you I found him grooming Hokage?"

"No, but I'm not surprised. She's beautiful, Yuki, and it's a lovely name." The Yamani word meant a shape moving in firelight and perfectly suited the mare's grace and pangare bay colouring. "But he's an easy mark for a horse." She grinned. "That's one reason he likes Wyldon. He told me no-one with horses that splendid could be as bad as Neal said."

They parted with laughter and Kel went to groom Hoshi and Peachblossom, deciding the big gelding could do with a ride. He was getting on, having been older than most Palace horses offered to pages when she'd met him a decade before, but still full of energy and attitude. When she returned to the stables in half-armour, Griffin at her waist and glaive in hand, he co-operated happily. She led him to the gatehouse and signed out with Uinse.

"Not taking an escort, Lady Kel? Standing orders …"

"I know, but is anyone free? I can't take any more men off the alures. And I'm sticking to the fields so I won't be out of sight."

"Even so, Lady Kel." He scratched his head and made a decision. "I know you've your glaive but take Crener and Varlan, eh? They're decent with lances and fair with swords. And I can spare 'em—I've Harrel on sentry-go today 'cause he ricked his back carrying a grainsack, the idiot, and after Sir Neal fixed it he said he should give it a day or two."

"Alright. And I should obey my own orders."

Uinse laughed and went to get the men, Kel taking his place. Peachblossom stamped at the delay and the other duty-guard, a wiry, sandy man from somewhere on the Tusaine border who'd fallen into half-hearted banditry when drought struck the region, looked wary.

"'E's a real bruiser, in't 'e, Lady Kel."

"If you get on his bad side, Deren, but he's been a good friend to me. The first I had at the Palace, really, except Sir Neal."

"I 'eard you was pages an' squires together. An' Sir Merric said you knew 'is wife when you was both littles."

He was fishing but Kel didn't mind. The barbed probing of nobles who resented her success disgusted her in its surprise that an upstart girl—whose family were only in the Book of Copper and who'd grown up among barbarians—could achieve anything; what was Tortall coming to? The curiosity of men she commanded was free of such disrespect.

"That's so, Deren. Lady Yukimi's parents serve at the Yamani court, and we were of an age when my parents went to negotiate a treaty." She smiled. "It's odd my best Yamani friend and best Tortallan friend have wound up getting married, but I like it and they're very happy."

"Yus, anyone can see that. And Sir Neal don't go on about 'er so much now she's 'ere." "A blessing in itself, eh?"

Deren grinned agreement. "Yus, it's that alright. 'E do talk a streak." He mulled for a moment. "What's the Islands like, then, Lady Kel? I 'eard that god of theirs laugh with ev'ryone else, an' if the Princess 'ad it right we could all go there an' be treated like kings."

Kel laughed. "You'd certainly be honoured. I'm not so sure you'd care for the firefly-and-poetry parties you'd be expected to attend."

"The what?"

She explained, to his astonishment, and they talked of strange things Yamanis did until Crener and Varlan arrived with horses saddled and lances in hand. Mounting, Kel secured her glaive and they carefully negotiated Orchan's steep rise-and -turn—or drop-and-turn—and trotted down the roadway, reaching the moatbridge just ahead of a well-laden wagon hauled by bored-looking oxen; but then to Kel oxen always looked bored. Waving to its driver and guards, Kel headed round the fin, checking in with Brodhelm and his squads, then with one of Adner's deputies, and finding all going as it ought.

It felt odd to ride Peachblossom in armour without Jump and her sparrows in attendance but they were with Merric's and Connac's patrols today, in the hills towards Mastiff where dense woodland restricted scouting, and Kel's eyes were sharp enough in open fields. Shaking her head, she sent a Goatstrack man with a nasty blister from unaccustomed tools to see Neal, and a moment later found herself in the right place to save a badly stacked grainsack from toppling off a wagon. Peachblossom snorted as her weight shifted but kept her in the saddle, and Varlan quickly dismounted, climbing onto the wagon to ease her burden and seat it properly. Several firm words later she left a Hannaford trapper doing the stacking looking chagrined but being more careful, and headed back to the old Haven fields.

Slowly she worked up valley, offering encouragement and helping out. Crener and Varlan proved as competent as Uinse said, and fair company. Gingery Crener was from haMinchi lands but had nothing bad to say of the clan, admitting he had rustled the prize rams he'd been condemned for stealing, as well as one he'd feasted on, so he couldn't complain, while blond Varlan was a light-fingered product of Corus with the tattooed thumb-webbings that told of multiple convictions.

"Pickpocketin', Lady Kel," he said cheerfully. "Couldn't resist all them blind bags wiv pockets so big I could get me 'ole arm in there as well as both fambles. I'd prob'ly be doin' it now if I 'adn't bin nabbed by Dogs seekin' some cracknob what took a gixie over Breakbone Falls an'"—he flushed a little—"you know, forced 'er, like. Never did find 'im that I 'eard, the scummer, but they 'ad me instead."

Disentangling his slang Kel wondered with an unhappy jolt in her belly if the man who'd beaten and raped a girl might have been Vinson, and what had become of the vile squire after he'd failed his Ordeal and made confession as the Chamber demanded. Duke Turomot had ordered a trial but she'd never heard what came of it—Fief Genlith had a lot of influence, even without Stone Mountain's backing, and she doubted anyone of Vinson's status would have been gaoled for long, if at all. Keeping her voice neutral she asked Varlan when that had been, and thought sadly that the date fitted.

"Do you know what happened to the girl?"

"'Fraid I don't, Lady Kel. I was nabbed and wiv two tats they 'ad me up norf to the mines 'fore I could finish cursin' me luck."

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry, Varlan."

"No call to be, me Lady. I might o' known summat, an' I did 'ear the Dogs didn't nab no-one for it."

"Still, I should have thought. I was just wondering. Women can have a hard time after, ah, being forced."

He nodded soberly. "Ay, I knows it. Even from other mots."

"Quite so. And as it happens, I know there was a man, um, nabbed for having done exactly that sort of thing a while back." She didn't think names were in order and certainly had no intention of explaining why Vinson's crimes haunted her own guilts. "I wondered then if I should try to do something to help his victims, and your story reminded me of it."

"Now aren't that you all over, Lady Kel?" Crener was listening with interest. "When I hears a story like that I wants to hurt the man but you thinks of helpin' the woman."

Fortunately for Kel they were just reaching Adner, clucking over a blunt scythe, and by the time she'd found the whetstone in her pouch and heard his assessment while he sharpened it her embarrassment had passed. Moving on she spoke to Brodhelm's senior sergeant, Ersen, and a while later she, Crener, and Varlan dismounted to help unstick a wagon canted in soft earth. Leaving some of its load to await a second trip the sweating wagoneer eventually got it moving, and Kel dusted off her hands, sighing. The sun was westering and with summer fading the shadow of Haven's knoll reached further and further up valley, inching towards the ragged end of the limestone and the wooded hills that ran north-east to Spidren Wood. Her back ached from shouldering the cart into motion, but there were two work parties still unvisited, one of older children by the cliffs picking mushrooms that flourished where the earth was dampened by a seep, the other of Tirrsmont farmers and their wives, experienced hands with a scythe, further away on the west side cutting hay high on a slope too steep to plough. Each had two spearmen from Ersen's squad, who wouldn't like being left out of an otherwise complete tour, and the children should be heading in soon anyway, so she pulled a face at Varlan and Crener.

"Only two more, thank Mithros."

They had almost reached the mushroom-pickers when a scream loud enough to echo from

the cliffs brought Kel's head snapping round to the north. As she was turning Peachblossom a horn -call began to rise but ended in a hoarse, ugly screech, and by the time she'd snatched breath they were at full gallop. The fields here had been harvested several days before and stubble ploughed under, leaving clods along each sillion that burst under Peachblossom's hooves to spatter her greaves, but he was outpacing Varlan's and Crener's smaller mounts and as the distance to the scything party dropped she could see blurred, bulky shapes among the scattering farmers, and one juddering on the ground. A figure seemed to rise into the air and crumple as it landed, bonelessly rolling downslope; to one side another stood stock still, outstretched hands cloaked in a thick, mud-brown haze, and Kel shifted course. If an enemy mage was at work he was always the prime target: whatever else was a threat could never get worse without magic, and might be neutralised. The back of her mind wondered if Varlan and Crener had their griffin-bands on, as standing orders specified, and if not what they might be seeing—if anything. But they were already fifty yards behind, too far to hear her shout. If she could take out the mage before he realised his spells weren't working on her it wouldn't matter anyway.

Reaching the slope Peachblossom slowed and Kel caught up her glaive before rising in the saddle to see what else she faced. In her gut she knew, though it made no sense, and confirmation sank into her mind like a stone through water. The shapes were tauroses, seven she could see, the one on the ground not down but hammering over the body of one of the Tirrsmont women. One had just fallen to a guard, bellowing agony as silver blood sprayed from his spear in its guts, but as he pulled the point free another gored him from behind; she had passed the other guard, chest ripped open and lifeless face staring to the sky. At least one farmer was down, probably dead, and a vile scream from her right told her a second rape had begun.

The mage was Scanran, draped and hatted in scraggly furs, and she saw him realise he was her target and skip a few paces to one side with a billow of brown magic. To her sight it was no more than spatter in a practice joust with open helms but she guessed that where he had stood a crude replica of him remained; her brain was crystal and he hadn't moved far enough away as he gathered magic to hurl as she passed. Stretching out her glaive she let him think she was going for the illusion, pressed Peachblossom with her knee, waited and waited and at the last second, close enough to see satisfaction in his face, swung the glaive out and chopped down. At her speed the Yamani steel carved though his raised arm and most of his torso as he was hurled away in a spray of blood, magic vanishing. If he screamed she didn't hear as Peachblossom whirled to face two tauroses, tiny eyes glinting above flat bull-faces and open, square-toothed mouths, straining pizzles pointing at her.

She saw Crener and Varlan starting up the slope, lances lowered but horses labouring, the first of the tauroses to complete its rape bellowing exultation with its head to the sky and an unmoving form beneath, the second still hammering away, and the one that had killed the guard starting towards her and the closer two. Where was the seventh? Taruroses came singly, not in herds, and didn't plan tactics past charge-and-rape or –gore but these were clearly co-operating, and the two closest began to spread out to flank her. Their numbers had to be reduced and she drew Griffin, shifting the blade to her left hand, and charged forward, holding her glaive down until she could bring it slicing up across the face of the one to her right, feeling the resistance of bone and horn up her arm. The gelding was wheeling and rearing under her and she clamped her knees as his forelegs flailed out to crack sickeningly into a tauros face. Silver erupted and it dropped like a stone but as Peachblossom came down he screamed and agony shot through her right thigh. Somewhere bone snapped and she was falling with the gelding, almost pulling her left leg clear as the saddle hit the ground, but not quite.

Old Naruko hadn't trained her for nothing and she still had hold of both Griffin and her glaive, but her left leg was pinned by Peachblossom's struggling bulk and her right was on fire. The tauros she'd missed leapt over his withers, bellowing triumph, and raised one great hoof, pizzle swinging with the motion, before stamping back to hit Peachblossom's head, snapping it

forward and sending a wave of pain through her trapped leg as the gelding juddered and slumped into immobility. A great wail started in her mind as she swung the glaive to chop into the tauros's upper arm, cutting into bunched muscle and spurting more silver, but the angle was bad and his other hand smashed the glaive away, tearing it from her grasp. Her right thigh bolted agony as she raised it to push at Peachblossom's croup, dragging her leg from under his flank and something slammed into her face, filling her vision with blazing stars and dislodging her helmet.

She felt hard hands grab her arms and toss her several feet, breath exploding as she landed and her sight dimming around stars. There were screams somewhere and a heavy thud, and another scream; she didn't think it was her because she couldn't draw breath and another blow to her face sent her mind spinning. Things wrenched at her and she was vaguely conscious of air on her skin before pain greater than she'd ever felt ripped into her breast and a white age later a greater agony still speared like fire into her stomach and spine. There was a vast rumbling noise roaring in her ears but somewhere she could feel her hand on Griffin's hilt as something slammed her again and again amid waves of pain that burned away thought, and she struggled to pull the sword free. It moved and stuck, moved again and she had it, distant fingers curling around the grip as she tried to angle the blade she couldn't see and fed everything she had into her arm as she pushed it upward. A blast of pure white pain and another noise that was more vibration than sound crumbled her consciousness and she slid into darkness with her last thoughts a terrible regret at how many people she'd failed and a fragmentary prayer for New Hope.

§

The space was grey void. Blinking what felt like sleep from her eyes Kel tried to look around but there was nothing to see. Memories jumbled in her head and she realised the tauros had killed her, but sick dismay was as much behind glass as the pain she knew she'd felt in dying. Everything was distant until a tall hooded figure stood looking at her.

"Be easy, Protector. We hoped you might avoid this death also until Shakith said you might no longer do so."

When had that been? Kel wondered, but her thoughts seemed as suspended as the rest of her. Did the Black God hear them? His voice soughed wind through bare trees but she couldn't see beneath his cowl.

"By my brother's command you must know the tauroses that assailed you were touched by Uusoae when she conspired with Ozorne, and with others of their kind were in service to King Maggur. It is an interference Mithros and the Goddess have decided they will not permit at this vortex in the timeway, though still they do not deal with Uusoae's other remnants."

In a man Kel would have thought the winter-wind voice exasperated but the idea of the Black God having emotions was one she was glad to see drift away. It sounded as if she was to be sent back, and bleak dread of the pain she was sure would return rose against howling relief.

"And they are busy elsewhere, as I should be. My daughter's healing will be only of your

life."

The pause seemed to last forever but Kel let herself drift in a comforting warmth, seeing the folds of the god's robe moving slowly. Did he breathe in there? Or was it the air movement she sometimes thought she could feel on her skin. She tried to look down at herself but her head wouldn't move and the god's voice resumed.

"I add one gift of my own giving, Protector, for the death of the necromancer and in the greatness of your soul." He raised his hand and pulled back his hood. The face was young, aquiline, smooth-skinned yet infinitely weary, and the eyes bottomless pits of shadow shot with silver. Kel's amazement was as far away as everything but the god. "Fear not for those you send to my judges, nor for yourself in sending them to me. When you shall come yourself before me none shall cry witness against you. And who dies in your service shall find their death their grace, and my mercy infinite. Prepare yourself now. My daughter comes."

A wizened hag appeared, black-eyepatched and grinning, lone tooth gleaming in a light Kel couldn't see. By her side stood a hyena, tongue lolling, and that was as absurd as the cackle from her crooked lips.

"I told Sakuyo he'd owe me before this was done. And His Spearness."

"Daughter, do your business."

"Spoilsport. All work and no play. This one needs some teasing."

Silver fire blazed and pain screamed in every inch of her body.

§

Sound cracked. A great weight was lifted and black bulk obscured her vision. She blinked. Her mind was clear, memories and emotions sealed behind glass. The weight had been a tauros body and the black bulk was Quenuresh, face creased with an emotion Kel couldn't recognise.

"Protector, you're—" The spidren's nostrils flared impossibly widely, pupils contracting to pinpoints. "Godwork. You reek of the Graveyard Hag and her father. They have sent you back."

It wasn't a question but Kel nodded. "Only to you, I expect." With an effort she pushed herself to one elbow. Her breastplate and cuirasses were gone, her clothing in tatters around her, her stomach and thighs thick with bright, congealing blood, red and silver mixed, but she couldn't see or feel any of her own still flowing. Her leg stabbed fire and she ached all over but there was no feeling in her left breast, and a numbness in her belly; the breast looked oddly clean against the gore below and something was wrong but she couldn't decide what and it was low on her list of priorities.

"What happened?"

"In the mortal realm? There were seven tauroses and a mage using cloaking spells. I sensed something amiss, and when the horn sounded came with all speed. To judge from what I see, you killed the mage and two tauroses before a third unhorsed you. One was killed by a guard, and three by the men who rode here with you."

"Who killed the one that … unhorsed me?"

"You impaled it without killing it while it was … above you. I broke its neck just now."

Kel processed this, and saw the tauros's head at an impossible angle. She remembered that crack of sound.

"Thank you. Are Crener and Varlan alive?"

"The men who rode with you? One killed one tauros but was thrown and died where he fell. The other killed two, but was thrown by the second. He is unconscious and injured, but alive."

"The farmers? There were six and two guards."

Nostrils flared as the spidren raised her body to swing her head back and forth. "One woman is alive. She hides beneath a dead man. The others are dead. Your soldiers will be here shortly, Protector; they near this hill even now. And your horse is alive, but mortally injured, I fear."

"Peachblossom?" A dozen things snapped in Kel's mind. "Where?"

Quenuresh shifted her body, legs reaching over Kel, and she could see Peachblossom's unmoving back a few yards away. "He is stunned. Would you wish me to make the mercy stroke before he wakes?"

"No, never."

She struggled to sit, feeling drying blood crinkle on her stomach, and grabbed at Quenuresh's leg to pull herself up; pain stabbed her hand and the spidren hissed softly.

"Protector, you are naked and covered in blood. Godwork or no, you need a healer."

"It can wait, but please cloak me if you can before the men get here. They won't understand." Thoughts reeled and burgeoned in her suddenly aching head. "And please don't contradict anything I say. The injured are the priority, and I have to hold everything together."

Quenuresh's eyes glittered for a long moment. "Very well, my Lady."

Something struck Kel about that but it too could wait. She took a step toward Peachblossom and stumbled as her right leg buckled. Pain lanced up her thigh and points prickled across her back as a solid bar stopped her falling and Quenuresh hissed again.

"Spidrens are not designed for this. Wait."

The prickling on her back vanished and a moment later she felt her legs swept from under her, tipping her back until elastic bars caught her. She moved effortlessly towards Peachblossom and realised she was suspended in spidren webbing that Quenuresh held in her two front legs, scuttling forward on the rest. Gently Kel was deposited by Peachblossom's head, and painfully manoeuvred until she could with an effort lift it onto her good thigh. Over his flank she could see one of his hind legs was broken, sharp-ended bone peeping white through skin.

"Your men see only your head." Quenuresh's voice was very dry. "Perhaps you might reassure them."

Kel dragged her gaze from Peachblossom's leg to see Sergeant Ersen and four men dismounting twenty yards away, swords drawn and faces grim. A trembling thunder of hoofbeats told her others were close behind and she worked her mouth to summon saliva.

"Ersen! Over here."

He stopped, staring as his jaw dropped.

"Lady Kel? You're—"

"I know. Tauros got most of my clothing before I got it. Quenuresh is cloaking me. Now, listen." She gave in to her howling heart. "Send someone back to New Hope at the gallop. I want Zerhalm here now and I want Seaver or any mage available to activate the spellmirror to Mastiff and get the Wildmage here yesterday. Top priority. We need healers here soonest, with transport for two injured. And I need clothes, a robe, anything. Got it?"

Ersen nodded, jaw flapping until he closed it with a gulp.

"Then do it now." Her voice cracked command, Ersen wheeled, shouting at someone, and she swung attention to the soldiers staring beside him. "Either Crener or Varlan's unconscious somewhere, injured, and Quenuresh says there's a woman hiding under a body. Find them, do all you can. Check the rest but I think they're all dead. Go."

They went, calling to others, and Kel cradled Peachblossom's head, not looking at his leg but crooning softly even while hoping he'd stay unconscious until Zerhalm could make it. A thought came to her and she looked up at Quenuresh.

"While I was dead the Black God told me these tauroses had been touched by Uusoae. Can you tell me what that means?"

The spidren blinked, forehead creasing. "That explains much. If the Queen of Chaos fed power to these immortals it would work against their nature, which is solitary and as dim in mind as they are strong in body. It must be what made them able to work together, with the mage you slew. It will also be why the Black God sent you back, for Uusoae's agents may not slay mortals."

Kel thought about this, listening to the soldiers dealing with bodies, dead and from shouts alive, until Sergeant Ersen's voice intruded. Focusing, she saw him a dozen feet away, sword sheathed but his face sheened with sweat and eyes as white as staring.

"Lady Kel. I can't see but your head. Are you sure you're alright?"

She wasn't, but apart from her leg she could feel no serious pain and her mind was clear; purged and sealed, anyway. "Yes, Ersen, I'm fine. Just indecent." Command returned to her voice. "Report, please."

He swallowed, still staring. "We found the woman, my Lady, under her husband. She's not wounded so far as I can tell but just stares. I don't reckon she's seeing anything." He swallowed again. "Varlan's alive. Arm and collar-bone bust and out cold, but Morri says he'll live. Crener's dead. Looks like he went over his lance and broke his neck. His horse is alright but we had to kill Varlan's. The other refugees are dead and Wallan and Pevis. The men are gored and the women …"

"I saw."

"Should we … your horse is a goner, my Lady. His leg's—"

"No. Where's Zerhalm?"

"On his way, my Lady. The Wildmage should've been sent for by now. Messenger reached New Hope and healers are half-way here."

"Right." Her thoughts turned. "Do you have your notebook, Ersen?"

He nodded, reaching to his beltpouch. "Who needs to know what?"

"Lord Wyldon at Mastiff and General Vanget at Northwatch. The spellmirror will reach

both. Tell them we've been attacked by seven tauroses under the control of a Scanran mage who was cloaking them. All are dead but we've lost three soldiers and five civilians. The tauroses were chaos-touched during the Immortals War and have been in Scanra until now. They fought with intelligence—ganged up with one or more in front so another could come in behind." She heard his muttered curse. "There may be more the same, but I don't know how many or where. The news must go to Masters Numair and Harailt urgently."

"Got it, my Lady, but beggin' your pardon, how do you know where they came from and about their bein' chaos-touched? I'll be asked."

She made a snap decision though it wouldn't hold up to scrutiny. "Quenuresh can smell the chaos on them. Get to it, Ersen."

He saluted and turned but then swung back.

"What about you, my Lady? They'll be wanting to know that too."

She looked through him, stroking Peachblossom. News of her death and return was not for a field report. "My leg's bruised. I'll be fine. Go."

He went and she found Quenuresh looking at her intently. The immortal's voice was a murmur, pitched for Kel alone.

"I can indeed smell the chaos now I know it's there, but I did not know where or when they came by it, nor can I guess where they might have been since. This tale will not do."

"I know, but announcing the Black God told me at Lord Mithros's command isn't … sensible."

"Mortals make everything so complicated." Quenuresh shook her head. "So Mithros was in this also."

"I didn't see him. Just the Black God and an old woman with an eyepatch he said was his daughter." Kel frowned. "There was a hyena."

The spidren nodded. "They are sacred to the Graveyard Hag and often accompany her."

"The god said Mithros commanded him to tell me about the tauroses, and because they were chaos-touched wouldn't permit what he called interference." Another memory unfurled. "Then he forgave me."

Quenuresh stared at her. "He did what?"

"Forgave me." She found the god's words cleanly in her mind and repeated them. "His hood was back."

"You saw his face?" Shock hissed in Quenuresh's whisper.

"Yes. So young and sad."

"Acchh. Protector, that has not happened in an eon. Our lore says such forgiveness has been granted to a living mortal only thrice since the Godwars. Even after that ceremony of yours I am surprised. Weiryn and Sarra visit the Godborn whenever they can and the signs of the others I put down to your killing the necromancer, but this … this is of another order. Truly the world turns here."

Kel shrugged. Gods did what they did. Her grateful wonder was insulated with everything else and she could see Zerhalm pulling up his lathered horse and dismounting.

"Over here, Zerhalm."

He approached, face white. "Lady Kel, you're—"

"Doesn't matter. Peachblossom." She swallowed. "His right hind."

Zerhalm knelt by the gelding, hissing. "My Lady, I can't fix this. His hock and gaskin are both smashed. I'm sorry."

"Set it as best you can while he's out. Daine's coming."

His look was intent but he dropped to his knees and gingerly began to feel for the shape of the shattered bones. When he spoke his voice was neutral though his Scanran accent thickened.

"Only your head is visible, my Lady. What's happening?"

"I know, Zerhalm. I'm alright. Tauros got my clothes but not me. Quenuresh is covering me until I can get decent."

"Are you injured?"

"My leg's bruised. Peachblossom got kicked in the head too."

Zerhalm glanced up at her, worry in his eyes. "I'll look when this is done. But I can only line up these bones, Lady Kel. I can't heal them."

He looked doubtful but went on easing bone fragments into place. A larger group arrived, Neal and Seaver among them. Dismounting, Neal ran towards her, stopping abruptly with his mouth falling open but she was so tired of explanations.

"Neal, here please." She eased her injured thigh out, gritting her teeth at the stabbing pain as he approached, face whitening when he saw Peachblossom's leg.

"Kel, I can't see you below the neck. What happened?"

"Kneel down and give me your hand. Tauros hit my thigh when it knocked Peachblossom over. I'm alright, but it tore my clothes off."

Hesitantly he knelt and reached his hand for her to take. Looking down she guided it to the purpled and banded swelling filling her thigh.

"I can feel dried blood."

"Just a bad scratch, Neal. It's the bruising that hurts."

"Gods, yes." His face became remote and green fire spilled from his hands, dulling the pain. She sighed her relief. "The bruise is bone-deep but your femur's not cracked. Even with healing you'll be limping for a week. Wait." His face returned to the present as he frowned. "There's magic in you already, something very odd."

She leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder as he worked, not caring that her invisible breast rested on the mail of his arm, and whispered to him. "Neal, the gods healed me. Don't shout, but I think I died and was sent back." He looked his startlement and she gripped his other shoulder. "No, I'm not mad. It happened, but I am not talking about it here. And the Black

God did not send me back to die from my wounds anyway, so believe me, they are already healed."

"Mithros." His free hand made the gods' circle. "But they didn't heal your thigh?"

She managed a smile but it was just movement of her face. "I wasn't dying from it, I suppose."

"Then what …"

"Shh. It doesn't matter now." His eyes were haunted but her attention was on Zerhalm, pushing the last bone-fragment straight. "Can you look at his head?"

"Ay, if I can get to it, Lady Kel."

She realised that to everyone else the gelding's head was resting on thin air and eased it to the ground, blessing the relief Neal's magic was affording her thigh. As she settled again he put both his hands on her together and green fire spilled into her more densely. Zerhalm crouched by Peachblossom's head.

"That's as much as I can do now, Kel. It'll need more later but you can probably stand. If there's nothing else." Neal's gaze burned at her.

"Nothing broken or bleeding, Neal. I meant what I said. Think about it." Her glance took in soldiers rigging a horse-litter for Varlan, arm splinted and bound to his chest, and huddled around the blank woman; Jarna—the name came to Kel. The widow Jarna. Others were loading bodies into what should have been a hay wagon and more stood with Seaver, staring. A bundle dangled from his hand, reminding her that however invisible she was also naked but for the tatters of her shirt, and she caught his eye. "Is that clothes for me, Seaver?"

He nodded, white-faced. "I grabbed a tunic and breeches, Kel. There's some towels too. Do you want them now?"

"Please." She leaned on Neal to stand and slowly try her leg, sighing as it held. "Thanks, Neal. You're a marvel."

"Hardly." His voice was rough but he looked happier now she was upright. Reaching out she plucked the bundle from a surprised Seaver, realised he couldn't see her arm, and looked an apology before turning to Quenuresh. "Can you shield me completely for a moment?"

One great leg moved slightly, and from the expressions on Neal's and Seaver's faces it was clear she and the bundle had vanished.

"It's alright, I'm still here."

"They cannot hear you."

"Oh." She undid the knot and fished through the contents, then took out a towel.

"Wait." Quenuresh muttered something and abruptly the towel was damp in Kel's hands.

"Thank you." She ripped off the shreds of clothing that remained and began wiping the worst of the dried blood from her stomach and thighs. Under her brows she glanced at the spidren, wondering why it didn't bother her to be naked before the immortal, then looked more openly. "You're actually very kind, aren't you?"

Quenuresh raised her eyebrows. "There are mortals who would tell you otherwise, if they

could."

"I'm sure. That tauros, too, for which my thanks. But you didn't have to do this for me."

"We have a treaty."

"No, I meant the towel. And the cloaking."

She hadn't known a spidren's smile could be gentle.

"The gods will be watching and plainly believe you should be aided. It's always worth attending to those they treat so. Or perhaps I find you worth loyalty, Protector, and kindness follows. The water spell is useful dealing with young spidrens. They are as prone to becoming sticky as all younglings."

A genuine smile lit Kel's face for a moment but other emotions boiled in its wake and she went still, wrestling her Yamani mask into place. Quenuresh eyed her curiously.

"You do that well. I am no healer but I have become a keen observer of mortals, and I think you will need to let emotion loose, soon. It is no shame, surely, after such a thing as you have borne today?"

"Maybe not. But it has to wait."

She dried herself with a second towel and with relief pulled on breeches and shirt. The soiled cloths went into the bag, and seeing the blood-soaked remains of her old breeches and small clothes where she had lain scooped those up also. Bits of her armour lay scattered about, with the tauros's body, but that didn't matter now. She nodded to Quenuresh, watching her with another undecipherable expression, and felt the spell drop with a slight tingle.

"Kel!" Neal caught her into a fierce hug but she couldn't return it, and eased away from

him.

"I'm alright, Neal. Peachblossom isn't."

Extracting herself she went back to the gelding, and knelt again by his head. Zerhalm's expression was bleak.

"I should try to wake him, Lady Kel. I've stopped his leg bleeding and healed his concussion as best I can, but he needs water. Ersen's getting some."

She nodded, and took Peachblossom's head back onto her lap.

"Go ahead."

He spread his hands on poll and forehead, concentrating, and after a moment ears twitched, the muzzle moved slightly.

"Come back now, boy. Come back." She stroked him, heart bursting. His head moved again, then bucked in her hands as he whinnied. "Hold still boy! You're hurt. Hold still!" Zerhalm's hands pressed against him, glowing. "It's alright, boy. I'm alright, but your rear hind's a mess. Daine's coming. Just hang on. Don't move, you'll make it worse. Shh now. It's alright. We did well. The enemy's all dead. Shh."

How much he understood she didn't know but he quieted, letting her hold him and

snorting softly, shuddering with pain until Zerhalm pulsed more magic into his head, and returned to his leg, holding it as still as he could. Ersen was waiting with a bucket and Kel inched forward, trying to raise Peachblossom's shoulder enough for him to drink.

"Let me, Protector."

Carefully positioning herself, Quenuresh shot web from her spinnerets onto her two foremost legs, making a rough cradle, and with an effort Kel lifted Peachblossom enough for her to slip it under his chest and withers. Bracing herself Quenuresh lifted smoothly, slowly, angling him forward so his head could reach into the bucket as Ersen held it for him. Eventually he seemed eased, and the spidren lowered him slowly back to rest his head on Kel's lap again.

Dusk was deepening and around her Kel was aware of men setting watchfires, carefully clearing ground and laying stones to stop anything else catching. Others dragged tauroses into a heap and piled wood lower on the hill to burn the body of the mage. The temperature was dropping and fires welcome. A blanket settled over her shoulders and Neal sat beside her, offering a waterbottle. She drank thirstily, feeling better at once. Seaver had another blanket to spread over Peachblossom—his own, she saw, which she'd left folded in his stall.

Seaver gave a pale smile. "Tobe sent it. He's worried sick."

He would be, of course, but there wasn't anything she could do. She nodded thanks , watching him carefully tuck the blanket around the gelding's barrel and cover his wounded leg while she leaned against Neal, hands stroking Peachblossom. Resisting the sleepiness of healing she let her mind drift until it was time for the gelding to drink again.

It was past midnight when Daine arrived. Kel had had more clothes fetched and as the hawk cried and circled down between the fires a soldier stood, holding them up, and took them a few yards into the trees before politely retreating. The hawk perched and glided down, and a few moments later Daine emerged from the trees, face drawn with worry.

"Kel, I'm sorry to have taken so long. I was at Steadfast. Peachblossom's hurt?"

Mutely Kel pointed to the gelding's leg as Seaver drew away the blanket and Daine's eyes widened.

"Odd's bobs, what did that?"

"Tauros. He was rearing and it charged him from behind. Can you …" She let her voice trail away before it could break.

"I'll try, but it's bad, Kel."

Cross-legged, Daine laid hands on Peachblossom's gaskin and her face became remote. To Kel's surprise she could see copper fire spilling from Daine's hands and winding around and through the torn skin from cannon to hip and she twitched. Quenuresh leant down, voice soft,

"You see the wild magic? Do you see the great roil of it that is the Godborn or only that which spills from her?"

Kel shook her head, still watching twining strands of fire being absorbed. Peachblossom trembled and she soothed him.

"Then your vision is probably just a residue of the Hag's healing. It may linger a while, but I would expect it to fade."

"Good." She didn't need any more strange sights.

Quenuresh laughed softly. "You are learning. Yet it is beautiful."

It was, and Kel watched as more and more sank into Peachblossom's leg until it glowed. Neal brought a roll and tea, fortunately the soldier's kind, and she ate and drank gratefully. It was dawn when Daine straightened, wiping her forehead.

"He'll live, Kel, but he won't fight or joust again. I'm sorry, but the bones weren't just broken, they were smashed to bits. Zerhalm did a fine job or I'd have been too late to do anything. He should be able to walk and trot, but he'll not be able to gallop or carry you in armour."

"So long as he lives, Daine. He'll be happy at pasture, won't you, boy? He's earned that." She looked at her friend, seeing how tired she looked and knew she'd pushed herself hard to get here, as well as pouring out magic. "Thank you. I … couldn't bear losing him like this."

Daine smiled. "It's alright, Kel. You never ask for yourself and he's an old friend. He's groggy but he can walk back if he goes carefully. And I'm afraid people are waiting to hear from both of us."

With Quenuresh's help Peachblossom was helped up, whinnying softly as weight came on to his leg. The men standing round the fires watched with wonder, and scurried to gather gear when Kel nudged him into a walk. The spidren stayed with them to the foot of the slope where the big gelding could walk more easily, then made her farewell.

"I must return to my kin. They will wonder why I have been so long."

"Of course." Kel turned to her. "Is there anything you can tell me about that mage? You said you sensed his spells."

"Yes, when he moved out of the woods and cast them more widely." She considered. "He was quite powerful, but I think his Gift was largely in concealment and illusion and I am armed against those. I did not recognise what you left of him and his power was not such that his name would have been spoken where I might hear it. I doubt he could have controlled those tauroses alone for long."

Kel frowned. "Define long?"

"Weeks, maybe."

"Just a shepherd then. Not the master."

"Indeed. I will think on it."

"Thank you." Kel hesitated but trusted her instincts. "You don't have a hand I can shake, Quenuresh, and hugging you isn't possible either. But …" She leaned forward and as she had seen Irnai do reached a hand to touch Quenuresh's cheek, finding the skin soft, and let her arm drop. "Thank you for everything. I will tell the King that at its first hard test you have honoured our treaty in the fullest measure."

The spidren's eyes gleamed. "To be surprised by a mortal twice in the same day at my age. Life around you is interesting, Protector."

She moved away, shadow huge in the early light, and Kel caught up with Peachblossom. The trip to New Hope was slow, but no-one said anything as she walked beside the horse who'd been everything to her. Who still was. Climbing the roadway at last, her leg aching fiercely and Peachblossom's obviously as tender as a sore tooth, they were met by a charging Tobe, face crumpled with emotions that darkened as she and Daine gently told him of the gelding's new limitations. Faces peered soberly at them as they passed the gatehouse, but Kel couldn't deal with them now. She left Tobe to care for Peachblossom in the stables with a hug that threatened to break her control, and took simple reports from Morri and Fanche on Varlan, recovering but asleep, and Jarna, mute but physically unhurt, before asking Neal and Daine to come with her to the spellmirror. Reluctantly she included Brodhelm and Uinse, whose eyes were dark with sorrow for Crener.

She put a hand on his arm. "He did well, Uinse, and Varlan very well. You were right to make me take them with me or I'd not be here. Wallan and Pevis died too, and Esner's hurting. We'll see to them all tomorrow. Now, come please. I'm only going to do this once, and it's not to be repeated to anyone. You'll see why."

Neal sealed the conference room with green fire before working the spellmirror to summon Vanget and Wyldon. When their concerned faces peered out, seemingly side by side, she cut short greetings and began a swift narration of why she'd been where, with whom, when the scream and choked-off horn call came. The combat sequence unreeled, and she emphasised the initial surprise of the attack, felling one guard, the other who'd done his best but been taken from behind, the tactical sense of the tauroses, and the mage with mud-brown magic, adding what Quenuresh had said about his power. Her rape she passed over by saying she'd been knocked out for an unknown period; emotion clawed and she knew the rigidity of her mask was scaring Neal and Daine.

She took a deep breath. "I woke in a grey place I can't describe. The Black God was there." Word for word she told them what he's said about the tauroses, but omitted his forgiveness and the Hag's words, saying only she'd appeared and sent Kel back.

"You died." Vanget's voice was very flat and Kel shrugged.

"Apparently I'm not allowed to just yet. Or not from this cause." She told him what Quenuresh had said about the rules binding Uusoae, and Daine abruptly nodded.

"That's right. She's bound in starfire for starting the Immortals War, but if these were chaos creatures the gods would intervene. Uusoae's rebellion roused Father Universe and Mother Flame." Everyone stared at the Wildmage, who shrugged. "Numair and the King know the story. Ask them if you must, but what Quenuresh said makes sense."

Both commanders drummed fingers in such unison Kel almost smiled.

"Very well, but I want Numair's analysis as soon as possible." Vanget growled something low in his throat. "Another cursed mage."

"And not the only one." He stared at Kel. "The Black God said 'others of their kind' about the tauroses. I don't know if that meant chaos-touched ones, but if Maggur's keeping immortals of any kind to send at us in groups he'll need more than one mage."

Daine nodded again, face bleak. "Yes. Ozorne needed lots." She frowned. "But he had lots. Maggur doesn't and he would need them. His giants volunteer, but no other immortals I know of."

There was a nasty silence until Wyldon, rubbing his brow with a drawn and set face, looked up. "Keladry, gods know I'm sorry to ask this, but is it at us? or was it at you? I really don't like an attack on a remote group happening just when you were the nearest support, and not fully equipped or guarded." He raised a hand, eyes dark. "I mean no criticism. You were being careful—two lancers as escort and men everywhere around, but it feels like a strike at you specifically. Closely observed and exactly timed. If the gods hadn't intervened …"

Kel's mind became cold, turning this over. "Maybe. But I don't think so. An assassin, yes, or a war party targeting me. But this? It doesn't seem … I don't know, but it doesn't feel right."

"He takes hostages and used a necromancer. Why not this?"

She groped for a thought. "Taking hostages is honourless, Wyldon, but it's direct. Obey or your child dies. Your wife or friend dies. And I don't think he ever liked Blayce. Used him, surely, and wanted the killing devices, but it was Blayce who wanted the children to suffer, Maggur just looked away. Stenmun did his dirty work for him. And to plan this … I can't see it."

"Well, I'll take that under advisement." Vanget's voice had become brisk. "You've given us what matters, Lady Knight, and we'll take it from here. You need to rest, and so does Daine." His face darkened. "I'm sick and angry this happened, and very grateful you're still with us, however it came about. And not just because you're obviously at the heart of the gods' attentions in this war, and we need you badly. You've lost people today and I know how that hurts, but the enemies are dead and you're not." He frowned. "Even if you were. Gods. Either way, go, sleep."

His half of the spellmirror blanked, and she looked at Wyldon. "He's right. Gods all bless, Keladry." "I think they already have, Wyldon."

Neal had a very odd expression but before he could start again on her need for healing or offer some vile tea she summoned strength for some crisp commander mode. Terse discussion arranged a temporary duty schedule with a white-faced Brodhelm and Uinse, and Kel reluctantly agreed burials could be delayed a day so Neal could try to get the mute widow in a state to attend her husband's last journey. Then she sent them all on their ways, showing Daine to the nearest guest quarters, and finally made it to her own. The washroom and privy behind most doors beckoned and with water trickling into the basin and her face stifled in a towel she let herself go at impossible last.

Eventually still she hauled herself up and stripped to sponge herself down properly. The cold water stung; or didn't, and she looked at herself with dawning horror. Her left breast that had been so oddly clean was flesh only in part, its dome replaced by a blunt, smooth greyness that had no sensation. Oblong marks on the boundary with living skin traced the imprint of flat teeth and her mons was similarly scarred, grey, numb hairless lines reaching jaggedly across her inner thighs. She traced them, feeling nothing, realising they were from barbs on the tauros's pizzle and that she had died from bloodloss. Her living flesh stung and there were little burns spotted around. The inner numbness was still there, and she knew the lines of damage must extend inside her, that Yuki's question had been unalterably answered. Whatever kind words gods said and however they seemed to dance about her with cries of encouragement, this too had been taken from her, as if her stigmata as a female knight and lonely chastity were not to trusted and true incapacity were needed, her life made an empty vessel filled only with others' service. Daine had told her to be careful what she prayed for and her half-meant thought about dedicating herself to the Goddess had been acted on by higher powers.

My daughter's healing will be only of your life.

She lay, silent tears rolling into her pillow, arms by her sides. Sleep, when bone-tiredness finally claimed her, was as dreamless as stone.


	9. Chapter 7

Explosions

Chapter Seven — Explosions

October

The burials took place in bright sunshine and cold, still air, couples sharing a grave and soldiers side-by -side with farmers. The plots had been dug in a row next to the mass grave, beyond its edging of burned timbers, and as the first New Hope burials Kel could set her own precedents. Lacking any priest she led the ceremony, and at each grave had grieving kin and comrades speak of the lives that had been lived. The widow Jarna, sufficiently recovered in her wits to attend, could only sob, but six orphans recalled their parents' care and gruffly emotional soldiers friends' bravery and foibles. For Crener Kel spoke of his cheerful admission of the rams he'd rustled and lamb he'd eaten. When all had spoken who would, she named all eight dead not as refugees of Tirrsmont or convicts and soldiers of the realm but as men and women of New Hope, and invoked the Black God's peace for them all, his words rising to her lips with a careful twist and silent prayer.

"They died in our service and I pray they shall find their deaths their grace, and his mercy infinite. So mote it be."

"So mote it be."

To everyone's surprise save hers chimes rang and wind soughed in stillness. People glanced at one another but she led them away without a word, only speaking again as they reached the picketed horses to send everyone briskly about their work. The children who'd come she saw back to New Hope herself with Neal, Seaver, and men of Crener's, Varlan's, Wallan's, and Pevis's squads.

Olleric's squad, who'd drawn the unenviable duty of burning the tauroses, reported in late afternoon, faces white. The job was done—mostly, for something had been at the corpses.

"The heads was missin', Lady Kel."

Kel blinked. Olleric was a sensible, experienced man. "Missing?"

"Cut clean off, and gone. It looked like single blows."

"You'd need an axe or a good sword for that sort of thing."

"Or a steel wing, maybe. The bodies wasn't messed with otherwise, but there was a stormwing smell to 'em."

What stormwings might want with tauros heads Kel couldn't imagine and had no wish to try; nor could she summon pity for dead immortals and important matters beckoned, so she shoved the puzzle to the back of her mind, thanked Olleric, and dismissed his squad to the bathhouse.

She had used the delay in the burials while Neal worked with Jarna to have quiet conversations with Varlan, getting his version of what had happened, and subsequently with Ersen, Brodhelm, Merric, Uinse, Jacut, Fanche, and Saefas. On the evening of the funerals she stood after the meal and ordered everyone to assemble on the green. The weather had begun to turn, fitful wind promising rain; coats were drawn tight, and Kel stood on a plinth she'd had the

carpenters make by the flagpole. She hadn't demanded immortals come but the basilisks and ogres were there.

"This is going to sound cold, and I'm sorry for that, but it matters. You all know Crener, Wallan, and Pevis died, and Varlan and I didn't." She saw puzzled looks. "What you don't know is that Varlan and I were wearing our griffin-bands, and those who died weren't. They'd complained the feathers itched under their helmets, and either not sewn them in as ordered or taken them out again."

Heads dropped. She knew her voice was flat, the rebuke too blunt, but couldn't find the mode; the lie about her survival was a sick feeling.

"No, it's not that simple. A griffin-band won't save anyone from anything by itself. But yes, it is that simple. There was a mage spewing illusions that didn't fool me or Varlan, but fooled our dead. And I noticed something else, because while I was indecent after the attack and cloaked by Quenuresh, men there weren't looking at a naked woman—so I wonder how many of them had their griffin-bands on too." She focused on the soldiers, her gaze raking them. Maybe some on the hill had had their bands on, but if so they weren't saying. "It was in my standing orders. It still is, and they will be obeyed. Griffin-bands are added to weekly inspections, and anyone missing one is on latrines for a week. Any sentry or guard without one on duty anywhere is on latrines for

a year."

She didn't pause despite the shock in their faces.

"Civilians, wear bands when you're outside the walls. There are plenty and more are being made. My stash of feathers is nearly gone but we should have more from the winter moult soon. Keep the bands with you, get used to wearing them. Children too, all ages. Sir Neal, Sir Merric, Sir Seaver, and the Company Eight mages will hold classes in the evenings, starting tomorrow, on how to deal with it if you can see reality and others are seeing illusion. I expect to see everyone there. New Hope will not lose one more life we needn't lose."

She paused, breath steaming, seeing unease at her harsh voice.

"We all know, most of us twice over, what it is to lose people to enemy mages doing something we didn't expect. And that mage who hid the tauroses until they were only feet away won't have been the only one King Maggot has. We'll see more, and maybe they'll kill more of us. But they won't do it just because they can chuck some illusion at us."

Another breath, her mind and voice very cold.

"And there's one more thing. I hear there's talk about Quenuresh being there but not helping, so know this, all of you. She came at a run as soon as she heard the horn. She killed the last tauros when it had me down. She knew Jarna was alive and guided soldiers to her. And she saved more than my life and modesty—she helped save Peachblossom, and if I hear one word slandering her courage or integrity I will make that person eat their lies whether it takes words or fists or steel." She made one try at a better note to end on. "I know she's frightening, and no beauty. But so am I, and she was true to her word in our need. To go on doubting her isn't caution, but shame, and I won't have it. That's all."

She stepped down and walked away to her rooms accompanied only by an anxious Tobe, stealing sidelong glances. The soldiers had it coming, and not even Merric or Uinse, who knew what a vital difference a griffin-band could make, had enforced her order; nor Brodhelm, though he'd not make such a mistake again after their private meeting. But whether she had authority to order civilians to wear anything was debatable, and she'd carry that if it meant one fewer trip to Haven. But she knew she should have been able to handle it better, less abrasively, and regretted

that as distantly as the warmth and ease she couldn't summon. When she got to her room Tobe followed her in, face twisting.

"Are you angry with me? I don't always wear my band but I will, I promise."

This at least she could hope to do right and sat, enfolding him in her hug. The pressure against her side and unfeeling breast was a balm.

"No, Tobe, I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself, really, for not having realised so many soldiers weren't obeying my order. I wanted to shake them up so they wear them from now on, always, and no more forget than you'd leave Peachblossom or Hoshi all lathered to play."

"You sounded really hard and cold." His voice was small against her shoulder. "I've never heard you like that."

"I'm sorry, Tobe. I … it was pretty hard on me, the other day. And then Peachblossom …" She bit her lip. "I know it's hard on you too."

"He's alright. I've rubbed him down every morning and evening, and Zerhalm sees him every few hours. He's standing better on the leg now."

"That's good." She hadn't known of Zerhalm's continuing care and was filled with gratitude to the Scanran, "But he has to retire, you know? I won't be able to ride him into battle again, or to joust. And I won't be able to ride him at all in armour." A thought she'd been holding off crystallised and she eased back, searching the boy's face. "Actually, Tobe, you're the person who should ride him, when he can walk more easily. Daine said we should give it at least two weeks, though."

The Wildmage had left the day after the attack for Northwatch, to explain more to Vanget about divine rules governing chaos creatures. She'd told Kel something of how she knew about them, leaving her friend bemused but with a vision of Kitten loudly scolding Lord Mithros that was a glowing coal of comfort amid the darkness in her head.

"Me?" Tobe's eyes were round.

"You. No -one else can ride him anyway, and he'll need more than pasture to be happy." She tried to think it through. "I wonder … Going up and down the roadway's not going to be easy for him, for a while. We could build a little stable in the corral for him. It'll be too cold in winter, but he might get six weeks down there. Do you think he'd like that?"

Tobe did, and when asked Peachblossom agreed it would be better than a stall with no view. He was subdued, perhaps from pain, but also at having let Kel down. She and Tobe spent a long time with her arms round the gelding's neck and his around her waist, and a few days later, with demands of harvest slackening, she gave orders. Limestone blocks from the passageway to the lookout post made a snug building with room for three or four horses, and after petrifying the roof-shingles Amiir'aan (with help from St'aara) set warmth in a half-dozen blocks placed round the inside, a spell he could renew every few days. Thereafter the now slow and awkward gelding could usually be seen in the field outside the corral, exercising his leg with or without Tobe's help and the encouragement of Jump or the sparrows. His continuing docility told Kel he was still in pain, and she quietly added to the gateguards' duties each dawn and dusk the despatch of pairs— no-one went anywhere outside alone—to open and close the locking iron gate the smiths had made for the gap in the corral wall.

Her speech had other repercussions, good and bad. Discipline tautened and her orders

were obeyed, but the harshness she'd shown and the coldness she couldn't keep from voice and manner because all her warmth was walled away, as untouchable as the pain behind glass, leached happiness from those around her. No-one bantered with her any more, and if the faces that obeyed lost no respect—quite the contrary—they no longer showed many smiles. They even tried to be openly warm to Quenuresh, when the spidren came to provide another batch of webbing and stayed to talk to St'aara and Kuriaju, but the best Kel could manage was grave thanks.

She was worrying people, she knew, especially her friends, and Neal was getting harder to fend off, but gave her the wrong opening one night at evening meal when her silence led him to broach the subject with too many ears about even if she'd wanted to discuss it. She cut him off, seeing the hurt in his eyes, and when they'd finished eating took him outside to the kitchen garden while there was no-one to hear.

"Neal, I know you mean well but if I won't discuss it with you in private why ever would you think I'll discuss it in the messhall?"

He swallowed hurt and tried to be healerly. "Kel, you have to talk about it sometime. It's killing you."

"No, Neal, it isn't, any more. It killed me at the time. Now it's just what I have to live with." He jerked in shock. "And what would you like me to say anyway? That I got myself raped to death in an open field, and yes, it hurt more than anything in life ever did or could? That the Black God had his very odd daughter heal me and sent me back because the tauroses broke some divine rule, but not anyone else who died on their horns or pizzles, sorry, Jarna, I don't know why? That I've new scars to add to my ugly collection? Neal, I am exactly as gods arranged for me to be, and so are our dead, and until I get the chance of dying again and getting it right second time, none of that's going to change. So leave it, please. It's just one more thing I can't do."

He was white but held his ground, shaking slightly, though whether with grief or rage, and if so at whom or what, Kel couldn't tell and found she didn't much care; or couldn't.

"Kel, say every word of that's true, though I don't believe the gods wanted anyone dead or you crippled like this—and you are, as much as Peachblossom—I still tell you you have got to talk about it with someone. If not me, then Yuki, or Fanche." He gestured helplessly. "Peliwin Archer, even. She knows what it means to be raped, by a man anyway. Or one of the gods, in private prayer, if no mortal will do. Kept inside you it's poison, and it has to be drained. You agreed it was true for the children having nightmares after we got them back from Stenmun and Blayce. Why think it isn't true for you?"

"I'm not a child any more, it lasted for a few minutes, not days on end, and I was three-quarters unconscious before it even started. There's no-one I want to talk to about it. Certainly not Peliwin, who wants only to forget her ordeal, and especially not any gods, who doubtless all saw it anyway. I'm sorry, Neal, but like Peachblossom I'm as healed as I'm ever likely to be." Pain rolled within her. "I'm sorry it makes my temper uncertain. I'm trying to learn to live with the memories, but it'll take me a while."

Neal looked entirely miserable but something flared in his eyes. "Kel, you don't lose your temper at all. I'd welcome it if you did. So would almost everyone, I think—it'd be a sign you were feeling something. You say you're sorry, Mithros knows what for, but you don't sound sorry or angry or anything, just a long way away."

"A lot of me is, Neal. I think some of me didn't make it back from the Peaceful Realms or wherever that greyness was. Or maybe it's like the pain old soldiers say they feel in limbs they've lost, except what I'm missing is in my mind." And inside my body. "Please, just leave it. There's nothing you or anyone can do or say that'll change anything."

She walked away and he subsequently obeyed her, though misery never left his eyes and the darkening of his joy with Yuki tore at her heart behind its glass. Prompted or on her own account, Yuki tried to get her to talk, but though Kel was gentler than with Neal she was equally adamant. Whatever the loving sex of a married couple might be it wasn't related to what she'd experienced any more than Vinson's lecherous brutality, and knowing Yuki desired to be with child Kel wouldn't have spoken of such a topic to her even if she'd had anything to say. Fanche she also rebuffed, as politely as she could, turning the conversation instead to Jarna, who had at last had some account of what she'd seen coaxed from her by Fanche and Saefas.

As Kel had suspected, the attack had come out of the blue—or mud-brown—with no-one aware enemies were near until the farmer closest to the woodeaves had been gored. Another tauros must have already been close to Wallan and gored him as he blew the horn, hurling him down the hill to land where Kel had seen him. How Jarna had survived she didn't know, but she'd frozen in shock under her husband's gutted corpse, drenched in his blood; Kel could only assume the tauros that killed him had been the one taken down by Pevis's spear, and that she with poor Crener and Varlan had then been distraction enough. Grimly, she revised her standing orders with Brodhelm, Merric, and Uinse: parties working near woodeaves or dead ground would have spearmen looking outwards under griffin-bands, and there'd be more regular training in spearwork, sweeping with the leaf-blades as if they were glaives, not just stabbing and risking getting the point caught, as Pevis had. She made a note to get more glaives, which women among work parties could use more effectively, but that would take time.

"Slings!" Merric sat up sharply. "Like goatherds use. There's stones enough for everyone to have a few in their pockets, and a sling folds up small. Easy to make, too. But if you can stop a bear with a good slingshot, it ought to give even a tauros a headache if you hit it between the eyes."

"Are they that good?" Seaver was doubtful. "I've seen lads drive off a fox, but never a bear, and it ran from fright when they missed it."

"They can be, Seaver. There's a boy at Hollyrose who can hit a mark every time at fifty yards, hard enough to gouge a treetrunk, and he doesn't do badly at greater distances. He can hit the pond from a thousand feet, most times, when he really winds up. It's about fifty foot across. I know that's no use against a tauros—but a dozen stones dropping at five or eight hundred feet might do damage to a charging group, and at closer ranges it's got to be better than nothing. At least it could buy time for people to run and reinforcements to come."

Kel felt some enthusiasm. "Good thinking. We'll have sling classes."

The experiment during the next evening's regular practice session, with a trio of goatherding lads among the refugees who claimed ability, attracted much attention and the speed at which stones flew, with fair accuracy over shorter ranges, was impressive enough to ensure plenty of volunteers to learn. Kel soon came to enjoy slingwork, liking the way you had to cock your wrist and when you got it right the sharp increase in accuracy that was possible as well as the odd purity of the notes amid the whirring noise before you released. When the best among them found themselves issued with spidren-web slings made by Quenuresh during her next visit, and discovered the elasticity of the webbing increased speed and power, competition to improve redoubled.

It was a hazardous business and there were accidents—nasty gashes and bruises, a broken nose and cheekbone as well as some permanently dislodged teeth. Neal and Morri complained about needless traffic to the infirmary, and Kel put Connac in charge of training-ground discipline with dire threats of feeding to the pigs anyone who disagreed. One sow was sporting a bruised flank from the previous evening and her well-timed squeal of agreement brought general laughter

that Kel joined in her own surprise. It was the first emotion she'd shared since the attack, and people noticed, offering smiles as they got back to whirling and shooting more carefully.

That night Kel found herself woken by Tobe's frantic shaking from a nightmare of memory, in which she wasn't remotely unconscious and everything happened again, slowly and unstoppably. Her scream had brought him running to find her rigid in her bed, face transfigured with pain and bathed in sweat; her nightshirt was drenched. Stumbling to her privy she was vilely sick, and after she'd wiped herself down and donned a clean nightshirt with leggings for warmth it took her a long time to calm Tobe, trying to reassure him nightmares faded. She knew they weren't Lord Gainel's doing—the experiences needed no sending—but certainties crumbled when Tobe asked in a small voice if the Hag was like the Nothing Man, and at her shocked denial told her she'd been cursing the god's daughter when he'd found her. After finally getting him to bed with hot milk and an equally disturbed Jump for company, she lit a fire and sat for a long time staring into the flames. Next day she went to see Neal, shutting the door to his office behind her and asking him to seal the room magically. When he had she sat and met his gaze.

"You were right. I'm sorry. I'm having nightmares I can't deal with, and it has to stop, for Tobe's sake. I can't talk to anyone here, Neal. I'm sorry. But I've thought of someone I could talk to, a woman who knows about gods and violence both, and me. Will you ask Lady Alanna if she can come? Or I'll go to her at Frasrlund."

Neal smacked his head. "I'm an idiot, Kel. I should have thought of her." He thought a moment. "I'm pretty sure she's heading to Corus for Midwinter, so she'll be leaving by full moon after Samhain, or before if snow starts. That's five weeks. And we have to head south not much later, so I'll ask her to ride south with us."

"That makes sense. I can hold on that long."

"Do you want something to make you sleep?"

"No. They aren't dreams, Neal—they're memories. Waking up is my only refuge—they're still in my head but awake I can push them away. To be held in sleep …" She shivered.

"Alright. I didn't think you'd accept. But something to hope for should help a bit."

It did, but not much. More useful was a visit to Lord Gainel's shrine in the deepening cold of a night watch, after she'd struggled awake from under the tauros yet again. Over a cone of incense she whispered prayer that the Dream King let her wake as soon as memory began to claim her from sleep. There was no answer but as she crouched, letting her mind drift with swirls of breath, she felt comforted and thereafter did seem to wake more swiftly from her recurrent helplessness on the afternoon hillside. Broken sleep left her increasingly tired and having to watch the temper Neal said she never lost, but she got an astonishing amount of work done, and for the first time since coming north caught up with reading and letters owed her family.

They were determinedly busy with minutiae of life at New Hope and the royal and divine visits. She did mention that they'd taken casualties from a Scanran raid in September, but said nothing of her own losses. She didn't think her mother would be fooled by such evasion but at least she'd managed something normal, and her feelings for the fort—little town, really—she found herself running were genuine, however all emotions remained muted. When she managed a fairly cheerful letter to her always disapproving Seabeth-and-Seajen grandmother, about the dedication ceremonies and the pickling skills Yuki was teaching the cooks, and fell dreamlessly asleep at her desk for several hours one rainy evening over an absurd Gallan romance she'd borrowed from Neal, waking with a stiff neck and numb arm, she thought she'd started on a slow road back.

The ides of October were enlivened by three unexpected visits. The first, unwelcome one, the day before full moon, began when Kel was called from lunch by Sergeant Ersen, on gatehouse duty, because a small group of riders had paused on the stone bridge over the Greenwoods, pointing and gesticulating, before approaching the moatbridge. Standing under the lintel Kel focused her spyglass and Ersen saw her lips whiten.

"You know them, Lady Kel?"

"It's Tirrsmont and his son." Ersen hissed as Kel snapped the spyglass shut. "I don't know what they want but unless they've orders from Lord Wyldon or General Vanget they're not coming in. Send for Brodhelm and Uinse, please, and Fanche and Saefas."

"At once, my Lady."

They were assembled behind her outside the gate by the time the horsemen approached. A thin-faced man in a dirty chainmail byrnie with a Tirrsmont captain's badge and leather leggings rode in front of his Lord, overweight as ever and wrapped in heavy furs; Sir Voelden, also bulging in armour, flanked his father, while a dozen men-at-arms rode behind them, haubergeons as ill-kept as their captain's byrnie. Negotiating the sharp turn the captain looked up.

"Make way for his Lordship, you fools. Clear the road now."

Kel didn't budge and felt Brodhelm tense. "Not until I know his business, captain. And I suggest you learn manners fast."

His eyes bulged and she saw his legs tense to spur his horse forward but Tirrsmont barked and he awkwardly backed, seething resentment but letting the noble forward. The lord's beaky nose didn't match his bulging cheeks and chins, and he looked at her coldly over it.

"You are the so-called Lady Knight Cavall was stupid enough to put in charge here?"

Kel neither nodded nor bowed. "Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Commander. And you are?"

His cheeks bulged. "Don't be impertinent, girl. You know who I am." "We have never met."

Sir Voelden brought his stallion up beside his father's, sneering. "You know me well enough, wench. Stop this idiot charade and let us in. We've business to deal with."

Kel looked at him, Yamani mask tightly in place, and kept her voice level. "I know you, Voelden of Tirrsmont, for a man who fouled the field of honour with attempted murder."

He flushed. "It was an accident."

"Really? Swear that by gods' oath and I'll believe you." His eyes dropped: it had been no accident and whoever swore a false gods' oath, or broke one truly made, would find blood boiling in their veins. She felt like spitting but that was Quinden's style. "This is your father?"

"Of course it is." Voelden's voice was truculent.

"So." She looked at the older man. "What business do you claim here, Tirrsmont?"

His face darkened at her lack of deference, but however his ancestors might be in the Book of Silver and hers only recently in the Book of Copper she was noble, and more importantly a knight commander to whom he'd shown no respect at all.

"This is my land, Mindelan, and you and these shirkers you coddle are here on my sufferance. I'll ha—"

That was a claim she could not let stand for a moment. "By what right do you claim this land? Your boundary is the first ridge west of your castle."

"This valley has always been mine. I had men surveying here before the war started, and

—"

"It is not yours. This is an army fort under military jurisdiction, so I ask again, what is your business here?"

He glared furiously, his voice tight. "It will be mine soon. You have men from Tirrsmont here. Miners. I require their labour. Order them to assemble. Their chits and brats can stay."

So that was it—his coffers must be feeling the drain of unmined silver as well as lost tithes from people he hadn't bothered to defend and refused to succour. And knowing well what all the surviving Tirrsmonters in her care had to say about their former lord, she also knew what custom, law, and army regulations each said.

"You are mistaken. All civilians here have been driven from their homes by the enemy and denied succour by their former lords. Liege-oaths, if ever sworn, are void." Not that he'd have bothered with such formalities for commoners. "You have no claim on them, nor on this land. And if you desire army work parties to assist you elsewhere you must apply to my Lord of Cavall at Mastiff."

Tirrsmont had refused to take more refugees from his own or anyone's lands. In any case the silver mines were closed with reason.

"I've no time for that nonsense, Mindelan. They're needed and they're mine!" His voice rose. "I know what you're about, you harlot, setting yourself up on my lands to whore with Cavall for a fief of your own. Well, you'll not have what's mine."

Kel's head was spinning with his words. She could hear Brodhelm's sharply drawn breath beside her and distant exclamations of anger, but her own voice stayed even though her gaze was hard.

"Think what you like about me, Tirrsmont, though I'd be careful what you say of my Lord of Cavall. His lance is heavier than mine, and he does not suffer calumny idly. Nothing here is yours, neither land nor people, and you have no claim on any of it. Nor are you welcome here, prating of rights over people you abandoned." His face was purple and Voelden's the same, but Kel had had more than enough of parasitic lords. "Your request for labour is denied with cause. Your silver mines were closed last year because you would not protect them, by order of my Lord of Goldenlake, confirmed by General Vanget, and you have no authority to reopen them or detail miners. Seek it at Northwatch, if you will, but you'll get short shrift."

While they'd been speaking Brodhelm's and Uinse's soldiers had filled the gate behind her; others reinforced alures and gatehouse roof, staring with hostile eyes. Opening his mouth to

retort Tirrsmont became aware of them, eyes sweeping around and face tightening with rage. He stared at her for a long moment.

"You will regret this, Mindelan. Your whoring is common knowledge and it is long past time you were put in your place."

"Your son said much the same before I knocked him off his horse and rested my blade on his nose. Now get you gone before I knock you from yours and do the same."

It wasn't pretty or quiet but they did go, father and son jostling their men dangerously and clattering down the roadway as the slovenly troops recovered themselves and turned to follow. The captain shot Kel a furious look as derisory insults came from the alures, and Kel shouted for silence, voice cracking.

"They're not worth your thought, people, and time's wasting. Back to work, now. The show's over."

Turning, she saw worry in Fanche's and Saefas's eyes, and the sturdy woman she'd come to rely on put a hand anxiously on her arm.

"Can he claim overlordship here, my Lady?"

Kel shook her head. "Not unless his fief-grant is formally extended, and I don't think that'll be happening. Lord Wyldon and General Vanget would certainly oppose him while the war continues."

"And after?" Saefas's mouth turned down.

She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't think any request of his would be looked on very kindly, though. The King's no happier than Lord Wyldon with the way he's behaved."

She left them muttering and went to her office to think. She hadn't allowed sexual insults to bother her since her first page-year, before she'd even known what it was to think of a man with desire, and to her surprise discovered experience of rape hadn't changed that. The irony of insistent accusations that she'd slept her way to knighthood and command when she'd finally lost her virginity only to fatal immortal force was bleak, and part of her hoped the Hag was entertained, but words Tirrsmont clearly thought deadly truths were just sour wind. But the accusation that she was acting to build a fief to claim for herself shook her badly. If she thought about it coldly New Hope was already the match of many fiefs, with more than seven hundred souls—though Brodhelm's men belonged elsewhere—and a fortified position few even of the oldest and wealthiest could match. But to her it was a safehold for refugees, who planted and sweated to feed themselves not to tithe of their labour to anyone, let alone a man who'd abandoned them. When she spoke by spellmirror to Wyldon that evening, apologetically explaining what had happened, his expression became thunderous.

"He said that I … that you … Gods, I'll have his head if he says that to my face." Abruptly he flushed as red as she'd ever seen him and wouldn't look at her. "Keladry, I'm so sorry he should speak to you in such a manner after …"

His voice trailed away and she contemplated him gravely, suddenly wondering how he was coping with his unshared knowledge of what had happened to her, and a determination rose in her that neither gods nor tauroses would take this friendship from her with everything else.

"After I was raped by a beast? Wyldon, look at me." Face still flushed he jerked up his head. "It's of no account, truly." And in itself it wasn't, she realised, nightmares notwithstanding;

what she grieved wasn't involuntary chastity but wholeness, the woman who'd been able to think of dedicating herself to the goddess with a salt of self-mockery. "Would you hesitate to mention combat to a veteran who'd once been wounded? This is no different. Please don't make it so."

He drew a breath, eyes gleaming as they came back to her. "As you wish, Keladry. You are worth a thousand of him."

"That's not hard." Her voice sounded normal but she could feel the flush his compliments always provoked. "In any case, I didn't interrupt you because he was insulting. It's what he said about New Hope as a fief, and the claims he tried to make. I checked the maps afterwards but I was right—his boundary's two ridges east of here. What's going on?"

Wyldon sighed. "There's been a lot of talk about New Hope. Inevitably. It's an astonishing place, and you've done wonders with it, literally. The fact that it's now the strongest fortification between Northwatch and Frasrlund is enough to have all sorts casting envious eyes, and the Crown Prince's report on that dedication has put your name on everyone's lips. Again. Sir Myles warned me last week that a number of younger sons have begun to agitate for it to be formally chartered and granted. I was going to tell you when you next reported, not that it's an army matter. But I hadn't anticipated Tirrsmont making a claim. I should have—he's always been as greedy as he is uncaring of liegers."

Kel found herself furious. "How do I stop him? And these pewling sons, whoever they are? No-one's just walking in and claiming my people."

His eyebrows rose at her tone but his voice was suddenly bland. "The easiest way by far, Keladry, would be to claim it yourself." She felt blood drain from her face but he went on remorselessly. "You call them your people, as any commander might, and they are—all of them, not just the convict soldiers and Brodhelm's men, but what, four hundred and odd souls. And ogres and basilisks. If you petition the Council, with their support as well as Vanget's and mine, Goldenlake's, the Lioness's …"

She stared. "I can't do that!"

"Why not? A year ago the Greenwoods valley was wilderness. Now it has a superb citadel and a thriving population, as well as the goodwill of eight gods. There is a case that it become a fief—keeping it a 'refugee fort' is absurd—and only one person who clearly deserves to be its overlord. Overlady, rather."

Mithros knew what colour her cheeks were by now. "But I wasn't—"

"Of course you weren't. You've never sought any reward for yourself beyond the right to try for knighthood. But gods know you've succeeded magnificently in all you've attempted. This is a logical step, entirely traditional." A smile ghosted onto his face. "It's deeply appropriate, actually, and if the King didn't leap at it I'd be very surprised. And the Council. The absence of any proper reward for you has been arousing comment, and those civilian purses the Prince gave out fuelled rather than dampened speculation."

"Wyldon, I cannot do such a thing. We're in the middle of a war! Maybe New Hope should become a fief but this is no time to be playing for rank or money."

"Isn't it? History disagrees, I think. But if that's truly how you feel, ask the Council to put the question out of bounds until Maggur's dead or vanquished and we have a proper treaty. It wouldn't be as popular but I doubt they'd refuse your request."

Her mind whirled. "That I could do. I just don't want Tirrsmont or anyone else bullying in

here and sending people he's abandoned once into further hazard so he can get fatter yet."

"Quite right." His smile broadened. "Did you really tell him to get himself gone before you unhorsed him?"

Her flush was back but she didn't drop her eyes. "I'm afraid I did. It was Voelden sitting there—"

"Oh I'm not objecting. He'd earned a mortal challenge, never mind a controlled retort. And I've told you before not to doubt your authority so much—even if he'd been courteous he's so far outside his rights he hasn't a leg to stand on."

"Thank you." She swallowed. "Can you advise me about petitioning the Council?"

"Of course." He thought, rubbing his forehead. "Send His Grace of Naxen notice of intent at once, copying Vanget and me. And get depositions from your people—civilians—about how they came to be there, and whose lordship they would welcome." He held up a hand as her mouth opened. "Yes, they'll name you, but you needn't say that, just enter the whole lot into evidence to show none will welcome anyone else. Get immortals' testimonies too, if they're willing—remind everyone that taking on New Hope means taking on Quenuresh under solemn treaty already honoured in blood. And let your parents know. They have wide connections these days. I'll talk to Vanget, and Goldenlake." He looked a query. "I gather the Lioness is coming to you before heading south?"

"Yes. Neal arranged it. He … I need to talk to her, about … something the Black God said to me. Something personal."

"Of course." He didn't indulge his obvious curiosity at her mention of the god and she was unspeakably grateful for his courtesy. "I imagine there's much you might wish to talk to her about, and Mithros knows she's been wanting to see you since the summer. Frasrlund's been quiet so she'll be on her way soon, I'd think."

They parted with easier talk of what was happening along the front, minor skirmishes with small war parties and one more serious incursion to the east that Vanget's companies had repelled. Kel went to bed with more on her mind than memories and for once slept well, waking early but refreshed. An hour of pattern dances left her feeling restored, and a cautious meeting with Fanche after breakfast set collection of testimonies rolling. The immortals she talked to herself, needing her Yamani mask when all said flatly they'd accept no-one else's authority, Quenuresh adding that her treaty with the King specified residence in the Greenwoods valley under Kel's command at New Hope.

The second, equally unwelcome mid-month visitors were a Scanran raiding group, who started a fearful scramble for safety by a large firewood party, taking advantage of a sunny day to comb the increasingly bare woods of the southern end of the valley; but the raiders took so many casualties from the slings and arrows of the woodgatherers and their guards that they started retreating even before reinforcements arrived. Five Scanrans died, at least two from slingshots that unhorsed them as they charged, in return for one guard from Olleric's squad—leaving everyone grimly pleased. That evening Kel gave generous praise all round and there was a better atmosphere than there'd been since before the tauros attack.

The third visit, altogether more entertaining if equally alarming, began when a small body of armed riders clattered over the bridges and up the roadway at a canter. Kel was waiting, duty squad behind her and men thickening on the alures, but with surprised pleasure recognised Keiichi noh Daiomoru with another blade-faced Yamani she didn't know and a squad of the Own as escort. Sending a soldier at the run for Yuki and Neal she welcomed them in proper Yamani

mode, bowing with hands on thighs and leading them personally through the gatehouse where both spoke their names and declared goodwill; the blade-faced man called himself Takemahou and the name tugged at Kel's memory. By the time their horses had been led to the stables and the Ownsmen consigned to Brodhelm's care, Yuki was jogging up from the main level in one of the Tortallan dresses she wore in the kitchens, Neal behind her. Her eyes were bright as she saw her brother but when they took in the other Yamani they widened and she slowed; her bow was much deeper than Kel's had been, in the mode to a great lord. Eyeing him warily Kel waited for Keiichi formally to introduce his companion.

"Lady Knight Commander, Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Shinkokami told you, I believe, that my Imperial Master has expressed His interest in the manner of living with spidrens you are pioneering, and requests you permit an observer of your experiment?"

"She did, Keiichi-sama, and it will be my honour to welcome any servant of His Imperial Majesty's to New Hope."

"Allow me then to present to you Takemahou-sensei, who comes as I do on our Imperial Master's command."

Sensei—the name clicked. Kel bowed again, matching Yuki. She had heard of this man: his magename meant 'mountain magic' and he had once—it was fervently told—persuaded a lavaflow to detour round a town. Numair said it must have been a very small lavaflow, but still. More to the point, he stood very high among Yamani mages and served the Emperor alone. Kel switched to Yamani in what she devoutly hoped was the right mode.

"Takemahou-sensei, it is our honour that you visit us."

"On the contrary, Lady Knight, the honour is mine to come where Lord Sakuyo laughed. I have heard most remarkable tales of you and of New Hope from Keiichi-san and Her Royal Highness, and already I can see they were but shadows of the truth."

The excruciatingly polite ritual proceeded. Yuki was plainly embarrassed by her Tortallan dress and lacked a fan to hide her face but Kel introduced her ruthlessly with an equally flustered Neal, to Keiichi's well-concealed amusement, and got the unexpected visitors first to guestrooms and then to lunch. The still glowing pillars and savour of the food provoked a spate of questions about divine blessings, with the whole business of the dedications. The mage was unfailingly polite, in Yamani and accented Tortallan, but like Numair wanted the oddest details. When he broached the topic of Lord Sakuyo's laugh Kel had Neal and Yuki add their accounts, collared Seaver for his, and eventually, in desperation, hauled Takemahou off to see the shrines himself.

After peering at each statue, lingering on Lord Sakuyo, the mage touched his fingers to his eyes, muttering. His yelp took everyone by surprise but Kel managed to catch him as he stumbled backwards, eyes watering before he could gasp cancellation of whatever he'd done to enhance his vision. She saw Neal and Seaver suppress laughs while Keiichi's eyes brightened, but kept amusement out of her voice as she set him upright, enquiring blandly if something disturbed him.

Eyes still streaming he drew himself up. "Blessed Keladry-sama, on the second plane these shrines blaze godlight, Lord Sakuyo's most of all. I am honoured by his laugh, I think." He murmured again, touching his eyes quickly and snapping them shut before opening them again and giving her a much deeper bow than at the gatehouse. "You too are awash with godlight, my Lady, as no mortal I have ever seen."

Given the state of her flesh Kel wasn't surprised, though the high Yamani honorific had been unexpected, and she found herself liking the man—he might be mage-prickly and demanding but he learned fast and could laugh at himself. Inspired, she laid a hand gently on his

arm and quoted one of Kumo's verses spoken at Sakuyo's great April festival.

"Even thunder stills / to hear Him ease His lungs." She stayed in Yamani, dropping into the mode of instruction. "Takemahou-sensei, we are all supplicants, commanding none but ourselves. That the gods' purposes are greater than any understand is plain, and they attend us for their own reasons. But in so far as we are favoured it is in our desperation and need, not any imagined greatness. Please, walk freely among us today and ask as you will of what happened here. Tomorrow I will take you to meet Quenuresh."

Eyes glittering appreciation, as were Yuki's and Keiichi's, he bowed again and let her get back to her work, Neal and Yuki accompanying her and Keiichi catching them up on the green to clap her resoundingly on the shoulder.

"Keladry-sensei, that was entirely splendid."

"I'm no sensei, Keiichi-sama."

"Oh but you are. Forgive contradiction, but besides becoming one of Sakuyo's Blessed you have just dealt with a difficult man better than anyone I've ever seen save His Majesty. If that is not mastery, what is?"

Kel gave him a straight look. "Lord Sakuyo's favour, merely." "No merely about it."

She'd never yet won an argument with Keiichi that she could remember, so after a brief discussion about the tokens of Blessedness he assured her would be sent as soon as may be, the sudden demand for so many having taken even His Imperial Majesty by surprise, she left him to his reunion with Yuki. The refugees to whom Master Takemahou (as he introduced himself in Tortallan) spoke during the afternoon seemed flattered that someone should come from Yaman to learn how they were doing something, and when Kel wore her kimonos that evening—in his honour and to make amends to Yuki for having presented her in a working dress—there was good cheer. It was the first finery Kel had worn since the attack, and though pulling on the undershift she'd looked sadly at her unfeeling breast it was a pleasure in a remote way to feel skirts swish, and know she looked as well as she ever did.

The trip to see Quenuresh was interesting but not altogether hopeful. Takemahou, filmed in sweat, was extremely polite to the immortal, who listened carefully to his description of the problems on Wangetsushima and shook her head.

"From what you say very young spidrens plague you, unlikely to listen to proposals of peace or be able to act on them. I am old among my kind, counting life in centuries, and long past the urgencies of first mating. Yet if there is an elder among them something might be done." She suggested ways in which contact might be attempted, and taught him a spell to set on a message that should attract any spidren. "Use Old Thak for the messages—all of any maturity know it— and set one of these with them." Extruding a dozen short lengths of web she touched them with forelegs, murmuring, and gave them to him. "If they have a mage of any degree it will be able to contact me—and should any do so, I will tell them how I have fared in Tortall. But—I intend no disrespect—I cannot assure them of your emperor's good faith, for I have no experience of it. You will need to find a Protector of your own, and I doubt there can be two such mortals at one time."

Kel gave the spidren a glare that made her smile but Master Takemahou nodded gravely and assured Quenuresh the need for mutual good faith was understood.

"We desire true peace, not a false lull. The Scanran raids on Wangetsushima have been

bad in recent years also, and all there would welcome a lessened threat from the interior. Only"— he seemed hesitant —"may I ask, Quenuresh-sensei, what we might offer in trade? This cheese is no part of our diet in the Islands, and to many unclean."

Kel almost clapped a hand to her mouth. It was true that many Yamanis felt about cheese and all curdled milk much as most Tortallans felt about slivers of raw fish and strong sake pickles, but the problem that now presented hadn't occurred to her. Quenuresh merely nodded.

"Cheese is a luxury, not a necessity. Meat and milk should be enough, or land to hunt undisturbed. It is competition for mating rights and the need to feed large broods that drives our aggression towards mortals in this realm, and towards one another in the Divine Realms. If that is addressed, it should suffice."

"Will not increase in their numbers then create the same problem again? The islanders' resources are not infinite."

"They may. But if peace can once be achieved, the older spidrens will control their own and allow the population to grow only slowly."

Riding back to New Hope Takemahou was effusive in his thanks and praise, and asked Kel if there were anything he could do for New Hope.

"My Imperial Master would wish it, and I will be happy to do all I may." His voice dropped. "Speaking as a mage, I count myself in your debt for killing Blayce. Necromancy is the vilest magical art."

Kel wondered how long she'd continue to be surprised by the repercussions of her Scanran adventure. "Thank you. Forgive ignorance, Takemahou-sensei, but while I know of course of your great feat with the lavaflow, I do not know what here might best suit your skills."

"I am a warmage—not in your Master Numair's class, but not so far off. I diverted that lavaflow by blasting an overhang on the cliff above into its path, so it ran downhill another way." He gave her what might have been a grin, but in his sharp face was more threat than relaxation. "One does not persuade a lavaflow to do anything politely, however the chroniclers may report it."

Pleased by his saturnine honesty and feeling ideas stir, she risked a return grin though her face was becoming unused to smiling. "I imagine not. But as a warmage far stronger than those here, there is something about which you might advise me."

Her plan for rockfalls above the trail had been defeated by practicality. If the piled rock were sufficient to inflict damage, and its support only a wooden cradle, timberwork had to be so massive neither Forist nor Anner were confident it could be blown with the mageblasts they could make. The basilisks could petrify a slighter construction to give it the necessary strength, but mageblasts then had almost no effect at all. Takemahou, though, saw no problem.

"Certainly, Keladry-sama. I can make mageblasts far more powerful and augment them with a spell to direct force against a specific section of the cradles. Where did you have in mind to set these rockfalls?"

Pulling up she pointed back along the trail, indicating several places, then across the valley to the end of the limestone cliffs, where broken crags ended close to flatland. It wouldn't be as useful as ones above the trail, but if she ever faced a real siege part of the enemy's encampment might be in its path.

Takemahou nodded. "Good choices. And while your admirable moat means you would not desire any rockfall from the glacis, there is an overhang on the fin—there, do you see?—that might be mined to make it fall at command. It is well away from your walls but will offer shelter if the wind is south or west—the kind an enemy might take advantage of."

Kel's grin was more genuine and the next days saw demonstration of a mageblast whose violent crack shattered a heavy spar, building and emplacement of cradles, and the astonishing sight of Master Takemahou climbing three hundred feet up the fin on spidren-web ropes to clamber about the overhang, planting a score of mageblasts in cracks and hollows along its sides and upper edge. He also helped with brute lifting power to put the first, large rocks in each cradle, and Kel was content: each rockfall could be built up over time, and she instituted a standing order that those going in their direction should take a sack of fist-sized stones from the spoil of the steadily lengthening tunnel to the lookout post, set ready in a pile at the side of the gatehouse. A trip on foot with a heavier sack became an excellent threatened punishment as well, supplementing latrine duty and armour scouring, though the children, eyeing her warily when she first made it, soon worked out that as extra guards would be needed if they were sent they were safe enough. In any case there was no difficulty seeing her order obeyed, and day by day she had the satisfaction of seeing another defence that did not rely on trained warriors or sheer numbers take menacing shape.

Master Takemahou also proved himself when a cradle-building party was attacked by a small band of Scanrans, whirling from his work to rip a line of earth up into the faces of the riders, and following with a ball of yellow fire that burned two dismounted men out of existence. She had been standing watch herself, armed with godbow as well as sword and glaive, and another two Scanrans fell to her needlepoints, shots that elicited startled admiration. A fifth died from a slingshot that caught him square in the face, plucking him cleanly off his pony, and the rest retreated at speed back to the woods from which they'd emerged. In the excited cheer following sharp and successful action Kel saw the Yamani thanked and clapped on the back, and liked him all the more for the speed with which shock at such impropriety was hidden by a smile.

He and Keiichi stayed a week, the last two days an indulgence of Yuki more than anything though the effects of the Green Lady's blessing on Yamani dishes had something to do with it. But the Emperor was waiting, so despite driving rain she, Neal, and Yuki found themselves waving fond farewell one dawn. Keiichi had promised to investigate the possibility of shipping glaives from the Imperial Armoury, adding when Kel demurred at the cost that he thought the Emperor would be happy to make an outright gift to the citadel of Sakuyo's Blessed. Alarmed at such threatened generosity Kel had written a long letter Keiichi was carrying to her parents, and as the Ownsmen were lost to sight in the rain she dragged Yuki off for glaive practice in an unused barracks she'd had cleared as a practice court. For an hour they did pattern dances, recalling with rueful humour routines old Naruko had taught them, but Yuki declined to spar and blushed when Kel raised an eyebrow.

"I know I need the practice, Kel, but it has to wait. Until summer in fact." She looked down, then added in a rush, "I've missed my courses. It's a week now, and I'm usually so regular."

It took Kel a second to process before her heart soared. "You're pregnant? Yuki, that's wonderful." She grasped her friend's shoulders and hugged her. "I'm so happy for you. Neal must be over the moon. I can't believe he's kept it quiet."

"He doesn't know yet."

"Why ever not?" Yuki looked down, something Kel couldn't identify in her eyes. "Yuki, what is it?"

"You're not upset, Kel?"

"Of course not. Why should I …" Her voice trailed away as she realised why Yuki might think she would be. She hadn't realised her friend was late, although their cycles were similar and they recognised one another's bad days, partly because she'd been so distant, but also because she'd had no courses since the attack, though not, she knew bitterly, for the same reason. A little calculation told her the child had been conceived close to the time she'd been attacked but she couldn't not be glad for her friends, and if they'd celebrated their wholeness in that way it was no-one's business but their own. "No, Yuki, not in the least. I'm delighted for you both."

Her friend looked miserable and anxious, tears filling her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Kel. I feel terrible. We had that conversation about Irnai and having children, and I just waved you goodbye

… and when you came back you looked so awful and Neal was so upset and we … I didn't have my charm on and we'd been going to wait for children until after the war …"

"Hush, Yuki. It's alright." Kel folded her friend in another hug, cursing her woundedness for becoming such a burden on another. She might remain ignorant herself but she'd spent enough time with the Own to know men didn't seek female company after surviving combat merely as a pleasure, and Neal had had to deal with a lot while she had sat absorbed in Peachblossom's injury.

"How can you not mind, Kel? It's so unfair, and we … we …"

"Hush, now." Kel held Yuki while she cried but her own eyes were dry, her feelings more a growing anger without focus than sorrow. "I mind what happened to me, Yuki, but how can I mind the joy of my best and oldest friends? It'd be fair foolish, as Daine would say, eh? Here, dry those tears—you're getting all blotchy."

She produced a spare handkerchief, thinking of the way Owen and the men of Dom's squad had taken to calling her 'Mother'; the irony wasn't lost on her but getting Yuki presentable again and back to Neal was more important. She left them with Neal unsure if he wanted to hug Yuki three more times or just dance around, and already jabbering about many beneficial varieties of tea he would begin to brew at once. Shuddering, not altogether in mockery, Kel left them to their joy with a heart lighter for it but that night her sleep returned her once again to the hillside and Gainel—or her own searing fright and rage—did not wake her until the tauros's flat teeth were closing on her breast. Jerking upright as its bull features dissolved into the darkness of her room she found her hand clamped on the blunt grey dome through her soaking nightshirt. At least godflesh or whatever it was didn't bruise. The thought was black, and if the half-humour of it was oddly comforting it was a long, cold hour before she slept again.

There was still no sign of snow but a gale and a succession of blustery days driving drenching squalls accompanied sharp frosts. The last leaves fell from oaks and alders, and evergreens that thickened in the northern valley stood out, welcome patches of colour among bare wet branches. When the wind did drop at night fog pooled on the valley bottom, and Kel brought a reluctant Peachblossom back to the main stables.

The prevailing winds in the valley, as across northern Tortall, were from west and north, and while the latter could blow wickedly up valley Kel had thought the fin would provide shelter from westerlies. It did cast a substantial rain-shadow but when the winds picked up strong eddies could whip across the green in any direction, dumping sodden leaves or clearing them. Lying

awake during the gale, her shutters rattling, Kel could hear a threnody of thuttering moans and shriller notes as the wind explored stonework and gaps between buildings.

With the break in the weather routine shifted. Fieldwork was reduced to bare maintenance, clearing windblown trash from winter crops and deepening the sough from the moat to the Greenwoods to prevent flooding as flow from the spring rose. Instead people set to work on giving more buildings piped water and remedying deficiencies driving rain exposed—adjusting gutters, improving drainage of kitchen garden and treeplots, and installing extra bolts to still rattling shutters. One window in the barracks Fanche slept in proved a magnet for drafts even heavy sacking could not deter, and in an inspired moment of rage one night she seized a length of old spidren webbing children had been using as a jump-rope and packed it into the most troublesome gap. It was still there in the morning and Fanche quietly found other pieces to pack all four sides of the window as well as the seam of the shutters—and thereafter wind stayed out. Available webbing was soon exhausted but Quenuresh, no more concerned with old webbing than griffins with moulted feathers, was happy to exchange large bundles for an additional round of cheese and the whole of New Hope was shortly much snugger. Brodhelm and one or two sergeants did shake heads at the peculiar appearance it gave barracks and headquarters, but weren't about to refuse such an unexpected boon.

Daily life on the main level became busier, many refugees working in barracks to make and mend, and when some stray bales of spun thread turned up with a convoy of supply wagons two looms were set up. Kel thought hard about a request to use the as yet unfilled barracks, but she'd reminded Vanget in her last report of his promise about a second regular company, and though he'd grumbled they'd soon be on their way. Instead she made a decision she'd been pondering and had the looms put in the cave system, directing everyone's attention to the sheltered spaces that as yet only miners and children used regularly.

The first major chamber had proven too damp for food storage, now organised in offshoot chambers and passages, but one of the larger volumes on the way from that chamber to the high-ceilinged one where basilisks, ogres, and miners continued to extend the spiral passageway proved ideal—level, dry, large enough to work in with ease and for people to gather but not so large basilisk-heated blocks didn't warm it to snugness. Sacking curtains, whitewash on walls and floor, and some benches and chairs soon made it a place people sought out, and the axis of life shifted towards the interior spaces. The first chamber became a place to strip off wet or bulky outer clothing, its level side away from the pool a place for children to run and play when rain and cold made the green a misery. Kel had a chest-high fence built around the pool to prevent accidents, and one of the Hannaford stonemasons began carving the stalagmites into latticed lampholders. The slowly expanding line of lights warned of the pool and were reflected in its surface, while the delicacy of the work, admired by all, exerted a subtle pressure to keep children away when they were rushing about the drier side of the cave.

The resident immortals were also pleased. They had long since made themselves living spaces in corners and adapted small offshoot caves to suit them, deep in the first chamber on the side towards the fin, and that area became known as Immortals' Row, where others didn't go without asking. But it had been a distinct existence from that of the barracks, and the increase in activity all around and cautious rise in the number and frequency of visitors began to map developing friendships and led to story-telling sessions that became a popular evening activity. Beings with centuries of experience had a lot of stories to tell, some hilarious, some entirely baffling; there were also shared experiences of displacement and building New Hope, and conversation discovered interests in common. The children found lessons altered to include basilisk lectures about kinds of rock and what sort of crevices weren't safe to explore, and ogre observations (supplemented by miners) about how to excavate, shore, and brace.

Kel was able to spend time with Tobe and Peachblossom, teaching her son pattern dances

and comforting the fretful gelding. His leg was easier but the muscle might never be wholly restored—probably a good thing, given the weak, patched-up bones but a loss and indignity he resented. After grooming him and Hoshi extensively one evening she was putting Tobe to bed when he named the problem.

"He's bored, Ma, more than anything, and not just because he's stuck in the stable so much. He's the brightest horse I've ever known except Master Numair's Spots and the Wildmage's Cloud. They'd keep him happy because they'd be company. Hoshi's very clever— she always knows what's needed—but Peachblossom's clever like a person."

Kel didn't have to think twice to know he was right. Peachblossom had known Daine longer than Hoshi, and spent far more time at the Palace in her proximity as well as receiving doses of her magic when Kel had first acquired him, to teach him spoken commands and obviate the need for spurring. And while he'd seen little of her in the north before his injury, and Kel didn't think the healing would have smartened him any more, he'd spent a great deal of the last seven months with Tobe, whose horse-magic wasn't remotely in Daine's league but would have kept the gelding on his toes and allowed conversation. Her mind raced and after a moment she hauled a surprised Tobe out of bed, wrapped him in a blanket, and carried him back to the stables.

One very odd conversation via Tobe's empathy later a deal was struck, and Peachblossom's stall door pinned open. A flat wooden block on the sliding latch of the stable doors put it within his capacity and Kel gave him the run of the main level, shelf, and terrace while he agreed to walk only, not to bite unless very provoked, and to stale only in straw laid down by the livestock pens. When Neal discovered next day that his equine nemesis was free to wander at will he was so appalled he could barely speak—but that was succeeded by an impassioned recitation of near-fatal injuries he had suffered at the hands—hooves— teeth—of the most savage piece of horseflesh between Vassa and Olorun, the further south being excluded only because he hadn't seen enough of their horses to know if some unimaginably ghastly southern brute might be worse. Knowing Neal had some justification and seeing his performance entrancing Tobe and a growing number of children and adults, Kel left him to it. The big gelding soon became a familiar sight on the main level, accompanied by Jump or the sparrows. His pleasure in exercise and variety was a relief to Kel and he began to make himself useful, making night rounds of the shelf, keeping sentries silent company from below and clopping a hoof warningly or sending Jump to growl at closer quarters if he found them less attentive to duty than he thought proper. Besides amusing him this gave him a renewed sense of purpose, annealing lingering guilt at failing Kel in battle, and the improvement in his deeper spirit was a balm to her own.

She was also pleased, though with more mixed feelings, to learn from a despatch carried by couriers via Steadfast that an attack by wolfships on Mindelan had been more-or-less foiled. Three had come charging in one grey dawn but the naval ships had not been caught napping, and while both had taken casualties and damage, the wolfships had fared far worse, two sunk and one limping away with fewer oarsmen than it needed and boldly carved prow blasted away by a royal warmage. Whether the attack had been planned as retribution for Kel's killing of Blayce and Stenmun no-one was sure—there had been sporadic attacks along the coast throughout late summer and autumn—but her mulling was interrupted by a white-faced Neal, who'd received letters in the same batch. He dropped into the chair in front of her desk, meeting her eyes.

"Dom's been hurt. A Scanran axeman he thought he'd killed and stepped over got his leg and he's lost what father calls a lot of muscle."

Kel's heart had stopped as Neal spoke, or so it seemed, but the fresh sorrow was still behind the glass in her mind. She found herself aware Neal had never known of her feelings, any more than Dom, and the genuine shock and worry she was showing seemed an act that hid her true yet muted distress. Self-dislike burned her.

"Oh Mithros. Poor Dom. How bad is it, Neal?"

"It could have been fatal but they got him to the healers in time to save life and leg. But he's like Peachblossom, Kel. He won't fight again."

"He's leaving the Own?"

"He has to, Kel. Gods."

"What will he do? Do you know?"

"I don't think anyone does, but he's going back to Masbolle." Neal rubbed wet eyes. "Curse it. He loved the Own and never wanted to work at the fief. Now he'll have to, I suppose."

"His leg won't recover? Muscle regrows, surely?

"Not when you're missing a great collop of it. I've seen axe-wounds like that. They always leave weakness. Hurt like anything, too, until the skin regrows, and even then. Gods."

The news brought commiserations from many, remembering Dom's vital part in their rescue and that it was his squad who'd made Kel's Haven command flag, still in use at New Hope. After consultation a letter of condolence and warm wishes for recovery was written by Idrius Valestone in his best hand and signed on a succession of sheets by all surviving Havenites, adults and children alike. To Kel's quiet satisfaction all could now write their names, and the parents their children's, so even toddlers found their fingers inked and touched to paper. Baby Haven, her mark. Adding her own note of commiseration in friendship, with an invitation to visit as soon as he could and small gifts—a book from Neal, a pot of sweet pickle Yuki made, and some sketches of New Hope by a Goatstrack woman with a fair hand—Kel sent the letter to Mastiff for forwarding to Masbolle.

How Kel actually felt was a mystery to her. In one way she didn't think her feelings had changed—were she to dream of any man, or in waking life imagine what it would be to be held and touched by one, it would be Dom; but she hadn't done either since the attack, and didn't suppose she would again. If any sexuality had been left her after losing the physical capacity it was behind glass with her pain and rage. Sometimes she wasn't even sure she missed desire, distracting and embarrassing as it had often seemed, but when she pissed or bathed and felt numb godflesh where once there had been rich sensation she knew Neal had been right. She and Peachblossom had been crippled together.

Any temptation to brood was displaced by a new mystery, or the solution to an older one. One frosty dawn, after a night during which the guards reported odd noises, Kel looked disbelievingly down the roadway through her spyglass and with half-a-dozen men trotted down to a bumpy white mound beyond the moatbridge. Arriving she found she hadn't been mistaken: piled neatly were seven tauros skulls looking as if they'd been boiled. Horns grew from bone plugs and were still attached, as were flat teeth; empty eye sockets stared in all directions.

Wary of traps Kel summoned Forist and Anner as well as Neal and Seaver to probe magically for spells or cruder dangers, but none could sense anything but bone, horn, and ivory. Eventually a baffled Kel had the pile carefully picked apart, and the skulls put into the little space between gatehouse and fin, with the ready bags of rocks for cradles. Were the skulls a cruel stormwing joke or an incomprehensible compliment? Neal dryly suggested it might be stormwing art, until Seaver contended that in that case it should be a known behaviour, which it certainly wasn't; how often did the steel-winged immortals play with other immortals' corpses? No-one could remember an instance of defiled spidren, hurrok, or giant corpses, but most were burned by whoever killed them. Even immortals weren't sure what to make of it, Var'istaan and Kuriaju

denying knowledge of the stormwing eyries near the Dragonlands, never having been to that part of the Divine Realms. Recalling Daine's stories about a stormwing who'd died in the Immortals War, Kel resolved to ask Quenuresh at their next meeting.

The spidren also professed herself baffled, but speculated that the tauroses having been chaos-touched might be relevant—a notion that had occurred to Kel but she couldn't say aloud at New Hope. After sniffing closely, turning skulls in her foremost legs to peer into cavities, Quenuresh did have a firm suggestion as to what Kel should do.

"For whatever reason, Keladry, they are given as a gift, and it would be wise to honour it. They can serve a practical use that may prove more. If you can bear it—and you should—set them along the roadway, at the top, where they may glare warning to respect New Hope, as the Scanran battle standards on your outer walls do."

Kel suspected Quenuresh was holding something back but she said only that such skull warnings were an ancient practice, and at any great crossroads in time such as they were living through echoes of history were not to be scorned. Kel was reluctant, viscerally so, not wanting to be reminded daily—with their broad bony foreheads, flat noses, teeth, and horns the skulls were not much different except in colour from the living tauros she still met most nights. But she had come to think Quenuresh wise as well as kind, so despite her distaste she spent a long hour sitting and looking at them, morbidly wondering which one had raped and killed her and which horn had gored whom. Finding a decision no closer she found Jarna, embroidering in the warm loom-cave, and taking her aside quietly asked what she thought. To her surprise, after a trembling moment the fierce answer supported Quenuresh: let the murdering beasts' bones be set there, seen to be punished as fully as any living thing could be. Though taken aback Kel thought ignoring mortal rage and immortal advice was not sensible for any commander; so the masons set to work, and soon seven skulls stared menacingly down at the roadway immediately below the turn.

When Uinse's men on gate duty promptly named them, in descending order, Chargy, Bargy, Horny, Toothy, Dimwit, Flatnose, and Pizzle she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, and did neither. Her defensively dry observation that Pizzle seemed odd man out got a shocked laugh from the men, as if she shouldn't be able to say the word, and she retreated wondering how on earth she'd explain it to Wyldon when he next visited and how soon the tale would reach him. She'd have to put it in her next report; and a moment later realised her report was due, for next day was last of the month. Cursing she set about the inventory.


	10. Chapter 8

Devotions

Chapter Eight — Devotions

November

Yuki's pregnancy changed the travel plans. She began to experience morning sickness, and though one of Neal's inevitable teas helped alleviate it he became concerned about the ride to Corus and changes in diet it would involve. Her protests that she would be fine were not, Kel thought, as forceful as they might have been, and diminished as the weather continued wet. Neal was torn between wanting his multiplying Yamani rose secure in Corus and not wanting her to risk the journey, contemplating with equal discontent leaving her alone at New Hope in winter or behind in Corus when he had to return north. Despite the loss of personal support Kel offered him leave to remain in Corus until June—but Yuki was having none of that and suggested she and Neal should both remain at New Hope. He was willing but would have to seek the King's leave to ignore the summons Kel and all the knights had received, which she didn't think would be forthcoming—but was wrong. Relaying His Majesty's approval and congratulations Wyldon smiled at her.

"It's you he and the Council want to see, Keladry." Kel scowled and Wyldon waved a hand. "The others were included in a fit of Palace thoroughness, but while I'm sure they'd have interesting accounts to give they can only supplement yours, especially where the gods are concerned. Queenscove's request is reasonable and no-one wants to drag a healer away from his wife's first pregnancy."

"Mmm. I'm concerned about their being snowed in here, though."

Wyldon shrugged. "Lady Yukimi couldn't have a better healer on hand in Corus except Duke Baird, and he'll be back here in spring. Northern cold aside, I don't see she's any worse off. In any case the King says they can stay if they want. And I don't suppose you mind your people having a first-rate healer during the winter."

That was true, especially as there were pregnancies more advanced than Yuki's. New Hope should add several souls before she could hope to be back, and while there was a hedgewitch among the refugees, healer Morri didn't have much experience of delivery—an issue that bothered Kel though she hadn't wanted to broach the topic of childbed mishap in Yuki's presence.

"Alright, I'll tell them. Is there anything else?"

"A couple of things." He flipped papers, extracting some. "Your last report was another of what Vanget has taken to calling your 'eyebrow-lifters'—not unreasonably." His mouth quirked but his eyes were dark. "Did you have to include the nicknames the soldiers gave those skulls? Vanget's laughter was immoderate but he's as puzzled as we all are. There's no doubt it was stormwings?"

"It wasn't anyone here, Wyldon. Those skulls were boiled clean and no-one here did that, or placed them where we found them."

"Fair enough. I suppose it's just that a soldiers' joke would be easier than this … mystery." He rubbed his brow. "You said a stormwing apologised to you about their desecration of Haven.

Have you tried asking one what in the mortal realms they think they're doing?"

"There've been none to be seen so I've not had the chance, but if I get it I surely will. I wanted to ask Daine as well—she's the only person I know who's ever said she had a stormwing friend."

"Oh, during the Immortals War. I do remember her distress when she returned from Port Legann."

"Rikash Moonsword."

"That's the one. An odd name for such a creature."

"An odd stormwing, I think. Daine said she once dined with him at her parents' house in the Divine Realms, on the same occasion that Numair met Lord Gainel, as well as the Badger and an animal god I didn't understand at all, a … duckmole, she said, called Broadfoot."

Wyldon sighed. "I saw him very briefly during the Immortals War when that enormous dragon brought her and Numair to Corus—some sort of beaver, so far as I could tell. With a beak. The dragon wanted to talk to him and Daine said he'd been stopping Malady from attacking us. I never did understand what she meant."

Kel didn't understand either. "Sounds like a good thing."

"Indeed. I'll ask about the skulls when I can—she was here last week and may be again next. She flew over Rathhausak ten days ago, by the way, and said nothing had been done to fix the castle. It's a shell."

"Huh. No-one to care, I suppose. The Scanran refugees say Maggur hadn't visited since he installed Blayce, five years back, and the village is deserted." She shrugged again, thinking how rotten a man and ruler the Scanran was, whatever his strengths; she might have reservations about King Jonathan but there was no comparison. "His business. Do you want me to remove the skulls? I'm not sure I like them but my people do."

"No, no. Gods know I'd understand if you'd just destroyed them but they were given to you, whatever the reason, and Quenuresh is correct it's an ancient practice to display defeated enemies in that way. Haztor of Pearlmouth records it."

Kel considered. "I think Quenuresh meant ancient in her terms, Wyldon. I once heard her say something had happened 'only thrice since the Godwars' and Neal says no-one has the slightest idea when those were except that it was at least ten thousand years ago."

"Mithros!" Curiosity overcame him for once. "What had happened only three times in all that span?"

"Oh … what the Black God did." Conscience squirmed. "Something he said, actually." Wyldon raised his eyebrows. "I saw his face."

His eyebrows snapped down. "You didn't say that before."

"No, it's … very personal." She took refuge. "I'll be talking to Lady Alanna about it. I'm sorry not to say, but …"

"No, no. Gods are personal, I understand that, especially a meeting with that one." Obviously concerned he didn't probe. "On another matter, then, how's that horse of yours?"

That news she hadn't included in her report and explained how Peachblossom fared, adding with a straight face that he'd taken to inspecting the nightwatch and garnering a laugh that pleased her.

"That sounds splendid. The sentries must be quaking."

"More or less. But they say he keeps them company, as Jump and other dogs do." She smiled wistfully. "He checks in at the gatehouse regularly. That they keep apples there has nothing to do with it."

"Naturally. Still, I'd like to see him doing rounds." Wyldon seemed to reach a decision. "I shan't be able to do so for a while—I doubt I'll get over to you again before the snows—but Owen'll be along next week."

"Really? It'll be nice to see him, but what warrants a trip?"

"He's fretting about his Ordeal and a trip in charge of some escort squads and a mailbag will occupy him nicely. By the time he's gets back we'll need to be leaving for Corus. And that reminds me—I've been meaning to ask you if you'd be willing to instruct him with me."

She managed not to exclaim. "Of course, Wyldon. I'm honoured you'd ask me." She'd forgotten Owen was due to undergo his Ordeal of Knighthood this Midwinter; it seemed odd that it was less than a year since her own, odder still that she'd be instructing another, but the gift of the offer was intensely pleasing.

"Excellent. I couldn't find a better knight for the job and Owen will agree." He smiled warmly. "He is in a bit of a fidget about it all, though. Understandably, but he does have such a lot of energy to fidget with. The trip's as much to save me strangling him as to give him something to do, even if only guarding a mailbag."

She thought of an antsy Owen and grinned. "He'll be fine. Anything in that mailbag to concern me?"

"Not that I know of." There was a blandness in his voice Kel mistrusted and he raised hands at her look. "Truly, Keladry. The escort is because there'll be a commander's purse—I realised you've never been issued one and you should have something on hand, if only for occasional food purchases when opportunity knocks."

"Oh." She frowned. "Not many of those except from the Vassa fishermen, sometimes, and they're happy to barter."

"Even so. I bet you're personally out-of-pocket by now,"

"Well …" She had paid for fish, and furs to persuade woodmen who survived in the hills between New Hope and Tirrsmont to report Scanran movements and send warning even if meant abandoning traplines.

"Exactly. I shall expect your first indent to be for reimbursement."

"It doesn't matter, Wyldon, Lalasa insists on tithing to me from her dress-shop so I've more money than I can use already. And I won quite a bit jousting during the Progress."

"You hang on to it." The blandness intensified. "Army regulations say a commander should have an official fund, and so you shall."

With that she had to be content, waiting for Owen with niggling curiosity. He was

preceded by other messengers—a squad accompanying Duke Baird in surprising person, on his way to Corus, and two days later one carrying an urgent letter for Seaver. Baird had been strictly charged by his wife—or rather, an expectant grandmother suffering acute yips—with thrilled approbation and a long, long list of advice for Yuki, most of which Baird sensibly ignored. He was concerned to see her, and did, with delighted pleasure of his own as an expectant grandfather; watching him beaming Kel realised he and the Duchess must have waited for this moment for a long time, since the deaths without issue of their elder sons during the Immortals War. Baird was also deeply curious about New Hope and gratifyingly staggered by its reality, expressing unqualified admiration as Kel gave her ever-expanding tour and lingering a day longer than intended to meet Quenuresh, with a set face but impeccable courtesy. The delay meant he was still there when the letter for Seaver arrived, telling him in his mother's trembling hand that his eldest brother, Lord of Tasride since the untimely death of his father, had died of a cruel fever that carried off a score of people in the fief. As the youngest of three sons Seaver did not stand to inherit and his brother had left a young heir, but his presence was urgently requested and after granting immediate leave Kel waved him sadly off within the hour, Baird and his escort in hasty tow.

For the next few days Kel couldn't help remembering being told years before, in the Islands, of the letter informing her parents that Anders had been crippled—just like poor Dom and Peachblossom. She had never, thank Mithros, had notification of a death herself and prayed it would stay that way for a long time. It had been a worry whenever her parents had gone to Yaman, with all the hazards of shipwreck and piracy on the Emerald Sea, and when she'd known Inness was in action on this border, but the tiring business of daily life as page and squire had kept it largely out of her mind. A commander's work could do that too, she found, though with winter routines keeping fieldwork to a minimum and reducing patrols in number and range the demands of action and paperwork were slackening, so she threw herself into weapons training with gusto. Jump and the sparrows had a backlog of neglect made up, and when it turned out that neither all the Scanrans nor the newer convict soldiers were adequately familiar with the various signals used by sparrows, dogs, and the marmalade cat who lived with Fanche and Saefas she spent several mornings rectifying the deficiency.

The arrival of Northwatch Company Fourteen under Mikal of Holtwood was thus doubly welcome, and she watched them marching crisply up valley one happily dry morning with satisfaction. They brought a wagon-train of personal gear and additional food, on which the cooks fell with interest while—after a long, interesting process of naming and declaring under the lintel —an empty barracks filled with men unpacking and stashing spare uniforms and what few personal items each had. Mikal she'd never met but Brodhelm spoke well of him and he seemed competent and pleasant—a swarthy man with a welcome glint of humour and a no-nonsense manner. With many interested onlookers she formed the arrivals up on the green with offduty squads from Brodhelm's and Uinse's companies, introduced herself, her knights, captains, civilian leaders, and resident immortals, explained about Quenuresh and the griffins, went carefully through standing orders with flat-voiced emphases, and paired every new man with one of Brodhelm's or Uinse's. The sponsors had the duty of showing their charges around and making introductions, and the charges the responsibility of shadowing their sponsors on duty for a week to learn the ropes.

"You'll find it different here," she concluded, generating wry nods from men already bug-eyed at what they'd seen and stealing glances at basilisks and ogres. "But in a good way, I promise. And don't think it's any kind of rest camp. You'll see action here. King Maggot's been a bit distracted this summer, and the central front's been quiet for the most part—but we've faced several attacks in the last two months and taken casualties, military and civilian. And snow's not fallen yet so always keep alert. We have regular training sessions for everyone, as you've probably heard, and as well as the usual staff, sword-, spear-, and bow-work there'll be tools and weapons you may not be familiar with—griffin-bands that mean you can't be fooled by illusions,

slings, and ways of using spears as slicing weapons, not just to stab. We've plenty of horses so we do lancework as well, for everyone who can ride well enough, not just knights—they're the weapon of choice against giants and tauroses. And as you saw we've had dealings with those. What the lads call our trophies I'll leave them to tell. Now, to your tours."

Keeping her voice cheerful had been an effort but she thought she'd managed, and knew she'd done better than in her last address to assembled soldiers however her mind still keened behind its glass. She directed squads to start in different places and rotate in different directions, so they were spread out, and after watching the efficient bustle for a moment retired to headquarters with Mikal, Brodhelm, Uinse, and Merric to begin proper integration of Company Fourteen into the duty schedule, other rosters, and contingency plans for attacks of all kinds. With three full companies, two regular, all sorts of things could be done properly or augmented, from archers firing by turns on the alures to more thorough patrolling, each with a host of details and consequences. Mikal was surprised by the range of what New Hope did as routine, and pleased with the friendly atmosphere. He was junior to Brodhelm but senior to Uinse and Merric, and would be third-in-command—Brodhelm's second in her absence—so she in turn was pleased by his professionalism and flexibility.

They were still at it next afternoon when Owen's arrival with two escort squads was reported, and she left them to wrangle about how best to organise practices. Owen had made it as far as the shelf when she rounded the stables to see that he was riding a warhorse Wyldon must have given him to replace Happy, a big bay gelding similar to his lamented predecessor, and leading an even larger liver chestnut.

"Kel! How splendid to see you!" He dismounted and threw his arms around her in a crushing brotherly hug as she reached him.

"Oof. Put me down, Owen! That's better."

"Sorry, Kel, discipline and all that, I know, but it is good to see you. And you've everything running sharp as a pin to judge from the guards. I like your tauros heads too—they're very jolly." His face suddenly fell. "But it was horrid what happened. Are you alright?"

Time as Wyldon's squire at Mastiff had taught Owen skill in eavesdropping and even some tact, but his artless friendship was all his own. One of her bets with herself when she'd learned he was coming was that Chargy, Bargy, Horny, Toothy, Dimwit, Flatnose, and Pizzle would each be jollier than the last. Affectionately she clapped his shoulder.

"I'm fine, Owen. You've a new horse, I see. He's a beauty."

"Isn't he just?" Owen beamed. "He's really called Windstrider because his dam and sire were the same as Happy's who was really Windtreader but I call him Happy Two because he is! And the liver chestnut's for you, if you'd like him, with my Lord's compliments."

Kel was trying to parse Owen's second sentence when the third caught up with her. "What did you say, Owen?"

"Which what? He's Happy Two because he's so like Happy One and he's happy too. It's

a pun."

Kel took a deep breath. "I guessed that, Owen, and I'm happy for you and Happy Two, too." He grinned. "You said something after that."

"The chestnut's for you. My Lord didn't want you without a proper warhorse. Hoshi's splendid but you need a gelding, so he's giving you this one. He does have a name I can tell you if

you want but my Lord said you should feel free to name him yourself so I wasn't to use it."

Shock sank into her. "Wyldon's giving him to me?"

"Yes. He wants to and you need a horse. Poor old Peachblossom. I was sorry to hear about him, but his doing night rounds sounds fun. What's the problem, Kel?"

"I can't accept a horse like that. He must be worth a fortune."

"Why not? He's a good 'un, Kel, and right for you. My Lord's got a wonderful eye for matching horse and rider."

"Owen, it's not right. I ca—"

"Oh bosh. Of course it's right, Kel." His grey eyes were suddenly shrewd. "It's what my Lord has that he can give, and it's what friends do when they're worried, and they can. You can't tell me you're not friends. He calls you Keladry in private now, not the Lady Knight, and you just called him by name alone. I like to think he and I are quite close but if I did that he'd freeze me to death in a heartbeat and quite right too."

"But it's …" What was it, exactly? Food for slanderers like Tirrsmont? Probably, but she wouldn't let that stop her in any other way. A generosity trying to compensate her for what had happened? Perhaps, and she half-understood it might be more complicated; that her rape while under his command, however distantly, might be more difficult for him to deal with than her death in battle would have been. And it wasn't just embarrassment at a gift beyond her means—she'd accepted gifts as costly from Lady Alanna without knowing who they were from; but this was from Wyldon who … she faced it: who had in a strange way become a second father to her as well as a friend, whose praise meant more to her even than Raoul's and not because it was harder to earn. Impatient with the delay the liver chestnut poked his muzzle over Owen's shoulder and she was lost, but there was another thing she must do.

As Owen stepped aside, smiling, she considered the gelding gravely and stepped forward to let him snuffle at her, then blew gently into his nostrils. He had an irregular blaze and faint list and she wanted to inspect every marvellous inch of him but instead took his reins, told Owen to put the mailsack in her office and settle himself in a guest room, and led him down to the main level, whistling to call Peachblossom, loitering with intent by the infirmary. Exchanging a stare with the newcomer, eyes flicking to her, he walked slowly by the paths to the green, along its west side, and stopped a few feet away.

She kept her voice as crisp as she could. "Peachblossom, this fellow's been given to me. Will you two get along?"

The horses looked at one another and she found Tobe by her side.

"Is he yours, Ma? For what Peachblossom can't do any more?"

"If it works out."

Tobe studied the horse with interest. "It will. What's his name?"

"I don't know."

"Let's find out." Tobe stepped forward to greet the newcomer, resting a hand on his muzzle for a moment afterwards. "I'm not sure he knows it himself. He'd like a name, though."

"What do you think, Tobe?"

"I dunno." He turned to Peachblossom, reaching hands to his neck looking closely at him for a long minute, then back at her. "Peachblossom says he's called Alder, and thinks he'll be alright with training. He says Alder has a good heart and is strong enough for you."

Kel was having a difficult time with emotions rising as they hadn't for a long time, and gave Peachblossom a hard hug, trying to control herself, before fishing apples from her pocket for both horses and showing Alder to a stall by Peachblossom's and Hoshi's. The placid mare seemed happy to greet a new friend, snuffling softly, and with Tobe's help Kel set about grooming Alder thoroughly. Peachblossom stayed, inspecting the liver chestnut himself, and after a while Tobe looked down at her as she ran hands over Alder's fetlocks and cannons.

"Peachblossom says he's smart but hasn't had any of Daine's magic. He thinks he can teach Alder your basic commands but you should ask Daine to make him smarter. Then he could teach Alder what you need in battle and how you like things done."

Kel's emotions were bubbling again, but she nodded before looking her gratitude at Peachblossom.

"It's alright, Ma." Tobe's voice was soft. "He knows you need another horse. He's glad you've got a good one who'll keep you safe."

It was too much and tears filled her eyes but she dared not let them flow; once started she'd never stop. But she did stand to hug Peachblossom's neck again, tightly, letting drops she couldn't stop trickle into his mane. The arrival of Jump, tail wagging, and the flutter of sparrows alighting on Peachblossom let her extricate herself with some shreds of dignity, and she made new introductions to Alder.

It was another hour before she dragged herself out of the stables to find Owen and receive the mail, including the promised purse for which she'd had the smiths make a lockbox bolted to the floor in a corner of her office; Tobe's royal purse was already there. Owen was full of chatter about Happy Two and final training he'd been doing but after ten minutes of breathless and confusing grammar fell silent, turned huge eyes on her, and took a deep breath.

"Kel, I'm terrified of the Ordeal. Suppose it just minces me up? I know I'm not supposed to talk about it but you talked to the Chamber, just like you'd talk to a person. Will I be alright?"

Wyldon's reminder of Owen's Ordeal had left Kel thinking about her need to speak to the elemental—or rather King Jonathan's desire that she should; left to herself she'd be happy never to talk to it again—but she hadn't anticipated this, which she might have. And, she realised, Wyldon had. It was why he'd sent Owen with his astonishing gift rather than coming himself, and it meant he thought she could offer the boy—no, the man—something he couldn't. She got up to close the door and waved Owen to one of the chairs, taking another opposite him.

"Not just like you'd talk to a person, Owen. The Chamber's not a person and doesn't think like one. But it's not evil, just hard as nails and not interested in anything except testing you. You'll be fine. You've a heart the size of a mountain and your wild courage is a byword already."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. My Lord of Cavall's squire who thinks everything's jolly."

He smiled weakly. "It's a good word."

"And you're a good man." She considered. "Have you touched the Chamber door."

He looked down. "Once, on a dare. It was awful."

"Your worst fears played out and you helpless to do anything?"

"Yes." His voice was a whisper. "How did you know?"

"Because that's what it did when I touched the door, and one of the things it does most, so far as I can tell. I've never been sure why, but I think it's about willingness to go on fighting, whatever the odds, whatever happens. You may get more of the same. But it does other things too —I can't discuss it, but things that give you choices, or make you … well, let go of something. I suspect that's what happened to Joren—he couldn't bend, or let go of all that hate he had for me and everyone he disapproved of. But you're good all through, and a first-rate fighter. You'll be a knight by the New Year."

"Thank you, Kel. It means a lot to me that you think so, and that's very helpful about Joren. I've always wondered what really happened to him, why he failed. Died." He swallowed. "And I can't ask my Lord about that. Anyway, he's a stickler for rules, and won't talk about the Chamber except to say it's a hammer but fair and wants people to pass if it can."

That was very Wyldon and Kel sighed. "I wonder about that rule, Owen. There's no rule we can't talk about what happens when we touch the door, but no-one does. I didn't, and I bet you didn't either."

"No. I couldn't."

"I know. But that's shame, isn't it? At being so helpless. And sick rage at whatever nightmare vision it cooks up." She made a decision. "I can tell you some of the ones it dumped on me, if you like."

He stared at her. "You touched the door more than once?"

She nodded, smiling wryly. "Every six months or so. Neal thought I was mad too, but I thought everyone did and just didn't say anything."

"Mithros! Will it help me to know, do you think?"

"I can't say, Owen. Ordeals are … different, or mine was. These were only visions. When you're in the Chamber … well, when you're in it for your Ordeal it's … more powerful. More real."

"I think I'd like to know." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I saw my mother getting killed, and my brother, though I wasn't there when it happened, and I was helpless, as if I was glued to the ground."

"Because your dream of being a knight was bound up with wishing you'd been there to save them."

"Yes."

"That's exactly what it does to test your dream. I saw friends and family die, and was stuck just like that. And crippled once, from some tilting accident. There was also a really strange one after Joren's trial."

He hadn't been at the trial though he'd heard about it, of course, and she repeated Joren's speech of contempt, engraved on her memory, before relaying her vision of the blond squire coldly purchasing or condemning everyone to slaughter. As she spoke the thought that burned in

her mind was that one thing the Chamber had never done was to subject her to rape, or even its threat; only to helplessness in the face of others' deaths, and she wondered if that was because she hadn't then deeply feared rape or for some reason of its own. Maybe she'd ask, but for now Owen needed her attention.

"That's awful, Kel." He shuddered. "Like a slave market."

"Yes. A slave court, I suppose. But at its core it's the same thing as all the others, Owen— nightmares happening right in front of you that you can't stop. But you want to stop them, don't you? Like you want to stop bandits from killing anyone else's mother ever again?"

"Gods, yes. That's exactly what I want."

"So let the Chamber know that, and whatever nightmare fight it shows you don't ever give up, not for a second. If it's not a fight, you'll have to think about what's right to do in whatever situation it is. But trust your heart and instincts and you'll be fine with that, just as you will with the fights."

He nodded, colour returning. "Thanks Kel. That helps a lot. I'd got so I couldn't think about it clearly at all—there was just this dread and a great blank wall I couldn't see through or over or anything."

"I know, Owen. It's what you've worked towards for eight years and it's like walking towards a mountain. It just gets bigger and bigger. But it's still the mountain you could see whole when you started towards it, and it has a summit you can reach if you keep going."

"I can do that."

"Yes, you can. Now come meet Mikal of Holtwood. His Northwatch Company Fourteen marched in yesterday and I abandoned him to Brodhelm and Merric too long ago. Let's find out how far they've got."

Alder proved a pleasure to ride and more than a practical restoration. Kel loved Hoshi for herself and as Raoul's gift, and the mare had been a comfort, strong and uncomplaining even in the vilest weather; but she was smaller than Peachblossom and without the gelding's bracing attitude and ferocity in battle. Alder didn't quite have the attitude—he'd never suffered as Peachblossom had before he met her—but he had the warhorse mind and, whatever Wyldon had taught him as a foal or Peachblossom was telling him now, seemed to understand basic spoken commands; she soon discarded the blunt spurs she'd reluctantly attached to her boots and relied on voice alone.

On a bright, clear day, gold among the lead of winter's early coinage, she commandeered a work party with two squads of archers for security and set up a quintain in the field below the western glacis. Alder snorted eagerly when he saw it, and after three hours of steady, careful, and exhilarating work with the target-dummy, then oak and willow rings, she knew she could confidently meet anyone in the jousting-lanes on his back, as she had on Peachblossom's. He was strong, steady, and responsive, his canter even and gallop rhythmic in the way she loved that enabled her to be absolutely sure how her lance tip would move. On her last run, when the wind dropped for a moment, she managed to pin the willow-ring at a full gallop and whooped triumph as she pulled up and used that hard wrist flick to send it spinning for Jump to catch as it skimmed

over him. Watching men cheered, and in the evening, after her staffwork was seen to be equally good in disarming Company Fourteen's champion, she noticed a new snap in the way Mikal's men regarded her. They'd seemed to like her well enough and plainly respected the way she ran a tight command with—for the most part—a light hand; now they knew for themselves she was a fighter to fear, for all her unusual ways and the strange place she commanded.

That night she gasped upright from the hillside after the worst episode in more than a week, hand again clutching fiercely at her numb breast. Shaken and nauseated, she found herself furious—with herself, her ghastly memories, tauroses, the godshat mage who'd been willing to cloak and steer and watch them as they did what tauroses did; with—she knew it—the gods who hadn't let her die when she should, nor be annealed of her pain in the Peaceful Realms, but had patched her up like stuffing mortar into crumbled brick and sent her straight back to do something they wouldn't or couldn't explain. And who hadn't sent anyone else the tauroses had slain back with her—a guilt rankling like a saddle-burr, though she shuddered to imagine what it would have been like if the women who'd died had been mended as she had, or husbands and guards returned with great grey swathes of chest and stomach.

Dressing warmly she went to the shrines, wandering up and down before them trying to sort her thoughts. The unfeeling flesh she'd been given might have saved her life but seemed a trick, and she didn't think it was Lord Sakuyo's style, nor remotely Lord Mithros's; her gaze rested most often on the Black God's hooded statue, thinking of the illimitable sadness in the young face she'd seen, his special mercy, the cackle in his Hag daughter's voice. Why did the god of death have a daughter anyway, let alone one to all appearances far older than he and as ugly as he was beautiful? It made no sense—but what god did? She tried to bear down on anger and frame a prayer to the Hag, thinking her father's shrine might be a portal to reach her, but the spikes of rage were too great. I see your clumsy hopes and well-meaning unattractiveness and grant you humiliating perdition. Did she have to carry stigmata of her failure to protect those poor Tirrsmonters? If she had to be sent back, couldn't she at least be sent whole?

Peachblossom found her burning holes in the Black God's shrine with her eyes and nudged her, slobbering concern. Chilled and shaking she went with him to get tea from the gatehouse, saying to Jacut on nightwatch only that she couldn't sleep, then filched apples from the box the duty watch kept and took Peachblossom back to the stables. After sharing the apples and stroking all her horses she eventually fell asleep in Peachblossom's stall, head and arms pillowed on a basilisk-warmed block as he stood guard that no more nightmares should pass. Tobe found her at dawn, eyes full of worry and scold, but she woke feeling comforted from a dream of her childhood, full of breathless laughter with Cricket and Yuki about something that faded as her eyes opened. Standing with a groan she ruffled Tobe's hair, promised him she felt better, and sent a prayer of thanks to Lord Gainel with apologies for her mortal inability to understand—withstand —the gods' purposes.

It was her day to deliver cheese, and after a morning going over contingency plans with Brodhelm, probing for weaknesses and noting what would need regular drills while she was away, she saddled Hoshi and rode with Connac's squad to Spidren Wood. Besides making the delivery she invited Quenuresh to a first full meeting of New Hope's council next day: there had been no need yet, but with departure nearing and the new company Kel wanted to be sure all were clear on what mattered. Quenuresh agreed it would be sensible, and turned out to be in a talkative mood, explaining cheerfully when Kel enquired that spidrens weren't bothered by rain or cold and had built themselves a good shelter anyway. If really heavy snow fell she might ask to come into New Hope's cave-system for a bit, for the younglings' sake, but might equally stay put under heavy webbing and blanketing snow with a fire for cheer and cooking rather than warmth.

"We have enough preserved food from you, and smoked game of our own taking, to be fine for a good while, Keladry."

"May I ask how you pass the time?"

"Immortals have a lot of practice at passing time." Quenuresh's voice was bland, her eyes warm. "We talk and groom. The younglings have webwork to practice, and games that are fun. I believe mortals call it cats'-cradles though I have never understood why."

Filled with imaginings of the glory a multi-player spidrens'-cradle might be Kel trotted back up the valley, observing with satisfaction her more prosaic cradles filled with rocks. They did look obvious, though, especially with trees bare, and scrub to screen them would be wise; Adner could advise her what would grow best. A horn-call from the distant gatehouse telling her riders had been sighted brought attention sharply back to the moment and the whole party to a fast canter in tighter formation, but the reply identifying friends came almost at once. As the distance closed Kel saw for herself the horse ridden by a stocky knight just crossing the limestone bridge, a squad behind, and relaxed with an apprehensive pang. That horse she'd know anywhere.

"Kel!" The Lioness wore full mail but only a bascinet and called out cheerfully as the parties converged. "It's good to see you. That's a fine-looking horse."

Kel reined in beside her. "Isn't he? Tobe says he's called Alder."

"Tobe? Oh, the boy you adopted. Well, he should know. Alder, eh? Where d'you get him? Is he one of Cavall's?"

"Yes. Wyldon gave him to me." As purple eyes widened it struck Kel that a gift of Wyldon's had replaced a gift of Alanna's. "I'm so sorry about Peachblossom."

"Goddess, don't apologise, Kel. It's a risk we run. I was just surprised at Cavall—I came through Mastiff last night and he didn't say anything. Decent of him, the old curmudgeon." She grinned at Kel. "But Raoul did tell me, chortling the while, you'd been invited to first-name terms. Astonishing. You have mellowed him. I'd be tempted to make him the same offer just to spook him but we have too much fun Cavalling and Pirate's-Swooping one another and I'm way ahead on that deal."

Alanna's irreverence was bracing and Kel smiled. "He's been a great help, truly. He's asked me to help instruct Owen as well."

"Has he indeed? Now that is a good sign. But let's get in, Kel, and you can show me this amazing place of yours. It's perishing out here."

The Lioness's dislike of cold was as notorious as Raoul's of ceremony and Kel swung in beside her, waving Connac's squad to fall in behind. They paused at the moatbridge, Alanna whistling appreciation when she heard what lurked under the water, then looking up at the glacis and whistling again. Reaching the tauros skulls she scowled ferociously.

"Cavall did mention these. Blasted things."

"Tauroses or stormwings?"

"Both, but I meant tauroses. Goddess, Kel, I was so sorry to—"

"Not here, please." Kel's mask was firmly in place. "I thought I'd hate seeing the skulls but it's not too bad and Jarna, who survived the attack but lost her husband, comes to look at them often. So do the orphans. Did Wyldon tell you their nicknames?"

"He did, though he could hardly bring himself to say 'Pizzle' in my hearing." Her glance

was keen. "I was surprised you'd allowed it."

"I didn't have much choice, any more than with that absurd Protector stuff." They negotiated the turn, Kel waving Alanna ahead at the narrows. "You know about the Honesty Gate?"

"I certainly do and I want one of my own. George is trying to get the griffins who live down from the Swoop to fix one for us but we need Daine to interpret." She pulled up under the lintel, raising a gauntleted hand to Merric, waiting as duty captain with an honour guard hastily assembling behind him. "Sir Alanna of Olau and Pirate's Swoop. I mean no harm to New Hope or any who dwell here. That's it?"

"Yes. Try telling a lie, though."

Alanna's mouth opened, then closed. "Goddess, that works alright. Very useful. And anyone under it can't be fooled by illusions?"

"Not in the least. Numair couldn't cast one that fooled it." "Huh. Illusion's not his strongest talent, though."

"No, but neither could Quenuresh, and it is hers. She can vanish in broad daylight almost to fool a griffin-band but couldn't beat the gate."

"Well, well. Interesting. I want to meet her." "She's coming tomorrow for a Council meeting." "Good."

They cleared the gatehouse and dismounted. Kel let Merric speak formalities, thanked the guard, and asked Merric to deal with billeting.

"Food? Or just a hot drink?"

"Food would be good, once I'm out of this armour."

"Then let's go see the messhall before I show you round."

The Lioness's wonder at the gleaming, warm pillars of the messhall was matched by appreciation of the food the duty cook produced.

"Whoosh! If the Green Lady can do this, she's more powerful than Daine implies.' She cackled. "Has it reconciled Neal to vegetables?"

Kel grinned. "Not yet, but it's definitely making inroads, especially the cabbage. So are Yuki's tsukemono."

"What?"

"Yamani pickles. Neal absent-mindedly ate a whole bowl of onion-rings in sake the other night before he realised what he was doing."

"Wonders will never cease—not here, anyway, by the looks of it." Alanna's face grew serious, though not grave. "You know you've done something amazing here, Kel? Cavall waxed positively lyrical last night about your defences and he wasn't wrong. He's told me about that poltroon Tirrsmont and your petition to the Council as well. I'm inclined to agree with him,

Goddess help me, that you should just claim it as your own fief, but I'll support whatever you want. Raoul too, and Ennor of Frasrlund. I hold his proxy and he was clear he wanted the strongest possible defence in the centre under someone who knows what they're doing, not some pissant second son from the Corus pack."

"Oh. Good." Kel swallowed, loathing politics though she was touched that the Lord of Frasrlund, whom she'd never met, should support her. "I can't just claim it, Alanna. It wouldn't be right. I told Wyldon, it's no time for people to be angling for themselves when we're fighting a war."

"Yes, he said that too." She received a piercing look. "I have to say, Kel, if there's a chance to get it for you I'll be inclined to do that, however you think yourself undeserving. Jon too, I bet."

"It's not about deserving." Even to her own ears Kel's tone was defensive. "These people have had enough of useless overlords. Anak's Eyrie was brave but stupid and his people paid almost as much as he did for it. And Tirrsmont is just vile."

"Useless overlords, surely. I doubt they've had enough of you, Kel."

"They've had all there is." Her voice was bleak and Alanna clapped her on the shoulder.

"I doubt it very much but I know how that feels. Let's find Neal."

The reunion of former squire and knight mistress was warm, and Alanna couldn't resist giving Yuki a healer's once-over, lingering on her yet unswollen belly and nodding satisfaction, but her attention was drawn to the Green Lady's spiral. Weighing it in her hand her eyes went distant, then snapped back.

"This has power from the Goddess as well as the Green Lady. It's boosted a lot. Mmm. The food too, probably—I wondered about that. What was it she said to you when she was leaving, Kel? As exactly as you can—Numair did tell me but precise wording always matters with gods."

Kel thought back. "She kissed my forehead, like a cold burn, Lord Weiryn said 'Sarra', sharply, and she replied … Yes, yes, I break no rule. Keladry, my spiral will give virtue of itself, and if a woman prays to me here I will answer. But it is also of the Great Goddess and will summon her in your need if you call. Remember. I thanked them and they both said I'd 'deserved my blessings'. Then they went silver and vanished."

"And will summon her in your need?Hmm. Have you tried?"

"Tried what?"

Alanna clucked impatiently. "Summoning the Goddess in your need."

"No. Of course not. I can't just—"

"Gah. Why am I not surprised? Neal, any pregnant women except Yuki coming to see you this afternoon?"

"No. One tomorrow morning, for more tea."

"Then I'd like to borrow this, if I may." Alanna weighed the spiral, hesitating. "It's not for me, though. Can you take it to—where'll we be talking, Kel? Your rooms?"

"I suppose so."

"Is there a fire?"

"Of course there is. I don't freeze myself, you know."

"Could have fooled me. Anyway, show me the rest of this magic castle of yours."

Kel gave Alanna the full treatment especially where defences were concerned, starting with gatehouse and fin-gallery. She mentioned the shots she'd managed with Weiryn's gift, drawing a surprised whistle, and Merric's ideas about the distance a mage or siege engine might think safe before concluding with slingwork as part of everyone's training.

"I don't know why all soldiers aren't trained with slings. You can stash one in a pocket, most battlefields have ready ammunition to hand, and even our worst shots are now better with them than with spears."

"Spears are pointy."

"Doesn't matter if a stone's smooth as a lake if it hits with enough force—and they do. The Scanrans we've killed with them … one man had been hit in the face and his skull was caved in. I think even a child with a good arm could take out a tauros and I'm wondering about giants. They're slow, and you can angle a stone up as easily as sending it flat."

Alanna whistled again. "It's an idea, Kel. There's the training to figure—but you've obviously done that. Copy your rosters for practice sessions and do a report. I'll make sure the idea's taken seriously."

"Alright. That sounds good."

"Merric's thinking well, too. That point about mages is good. I don't know about engines. They tried a mangonel at the City of the Gods but a Mithran mage burned it. We've seen nothing worse." Alanna frowned. "You really expect to face a siege?"

"I know it makes no sense, but I can't shake the thought. And that prophecy … Apart from the tauroses, the stormwings—wherever they've been hiding—haven't bothered with any Scanrans we've killed. I can't help thinking they'll only play again over the Greenwoods when they've a feast." Kel brooded, kicking the palisade. "And I know Maggot hasn't used engines but those killing devices came from somewhere."

"Eh? They came from Rathhausak."

"The dead souls did. Blayce's workshop wasn't equipped to produce blades, wire, or

gears."

"Huh. Numair said it was all the work of one mage—Blayce's runes and his … what? smell, I suppose, all the way through."

"Maybe, but I don't think he made scores of cogs and miles of wire himself, nor coated hundreds of giants' long bones and skulls with metal that wasn't wrapped and hammered—it was coated on, like paint."

"Point. Definite point, Kel. Goddess, that's a good question. So where were they made?" "And by whom?"

"Yush. I don't want to think about it now, but that's a point to make forcefully to Jon and the Council."

"I'm more bothered by what someone might be making now. And engines are the least of it. There was skilled designwork in those devices—the blades had tremendous force. It was the domes that were vulnerable. If the dead children had been encased in the midsection, behind thicker metal …"

"Hush, Kel, they weren't and you're giving me indigestion."

They completed the circuit and Alanna looked back round the walls. "Formidable, Kel. Vanget and Cavall told me this is the strongest place between Northwatch and Frasrlund, but it's tougher than Northwatch and more compact than Frasrlund, and neither has the same depth of traps. Your box of mageblast-keys must be enormous."

"It's getting that way. All clearly labelled, though."

Alanna cackled again, drawing glances from sentries very conscious of her presence but staring dutifully out. "So I should hope. No good blowing up your moatbridge if you mean to drop rocks on someone." When they came to the shrines the Lioness's mood sobered. "Neal told me about that Yamani mage nearly wetting himself when he augmented his sight. Nice statues— you've good woodcarvers. And about what he said of you—awash with godlight, eh? Ready to talk, Kel? I get the feeling it's not going to be pretty."

"No." Kel felt reluctance rise. "I know there's no point delaying but let's finish first. There's still the caves and the children will never forgive me if I don't take the Lioness by the barracks to meet them."

"Alright. Whatever you want, Kel. Up to a point."

Hoping she wasn't too flushed she led on to the caves, where there was a cheerful fug Alanna greatly approved of, and the passageway to the lookout, already with a third spiral and most of a fourth. Everyone was impressed to meet the Lioness, and the children, when they reached the barracks, held back with big eyes before swarming eagerly forward. After Alanna had extricated herself, grinning, Irnai and the Scanran refugees got kind, quiet words and the young seer a searching stare; then there was no putting it off longer and Kel led Alanna to her quarters, confusion roiling in her as to what she'd thought she could say. Alanna had no doubts, though, settling herself by the fire and pointing imperiously to the opposite chair.

"Unless you'd rather stand. I hear you prefer reporting that way." "Yes. Probably. Seal the room, would you?"

Eyebrows rose. "That bad? Alright." Purple fire flared along walls and door. "Done." Alanna regarded her with what Kel suspected was compassion and she squirmed inside. "Begin at the beginning, which means the Chamber and these visions it gave you. Never did that to me, thank the Goddess. But it seems to be where you got involved with the gods and that's what matters here, as Neal tells it."

The Chamber Kel could manage and set off through her apparently unusual habit of testing herself against the doors, the addition to her Ordeal, and all that followed. Irnai came into the tale and Alanna sharpened as Kel gave a version of her debrief and its interruptions.

"Then I passed out."

Alanna half-smiled, "Yes, I heard about that from Raoul. And about your wound from

Neal."

"At length, I bet."

"He wasn't happy when I told him off as well as Baird. And I'll tell you off too, Kel—I understand your reasoning better than he does, but it's no good keeping your healer fresh while you're in real pain."

"He was barely recovered from saving three of us at Rathhausak ."

"He says he had enough if you'd said. But it doesn't matter now, Kel, and what you did does. Every one of us owes you an unpayable debt for killing Blayce. I'm so proud of you I can't say."

Kel flushed. Alanna's praise, even more than Wyldon's, was to her fairy gold that might suddenly vanish. "I was just going after my people."

"Not entirely, from what you've been saying. You knew Blayce was behind the raid." "I guessed he was but I didn't know."

"Yes, you did—you just couldn't explain how you knew. Anyway, go on from your report. I need the full story."

Kel was easy enough with building New Hope, but speaking of dedications and godsigns was oddly upsetting and she knew her voice was tenser. Alanna was listening intently but whenever she paused waved her on, and Kel guessed she'd heard this tale already, probably from several mouths. Eventually the story wound to the day of the attack.

"Do you want what I experienced then or what I dream?" "They're different?"

"The tauros knocked me out. It was just pain and confusion. But when I dream it's … vivid. All in focus."

"Then switch to the dream memories when you get there."

The alarm and combat weren't difficult, nor the sudden, appalling pain in her leg, falling with Peachblossom, and the struggle to free herself, but when she got to the tauros leaping over his withers, where her dream usually began its slow, agonising repeat, her voice dried up. Alanna's eyes seemed huge, their strange purple intense.

"I know it's hard, Kel, but Neal right that managing to say it usually helps afterwards. And exactly what happened matters in interpreting whatever it was the Black God said to you."

Kel nodded, swallowing. "It … the tauros, it kicked Peachblossom in the head. So hard. It made its pizzle swing, like a mace. He went still and … my mind, I was just wailing inside. I cut its arm with the glaive but the angle was wrong, I couldn't get any force in the blow and it slammed the glaive away and kicked me. Knocked off my bascinet. That's when it all became a blur but in my dream I feel the second kick and then it throws me a few feet and …" Her voice was very flat as she struggled to say it. "I landed on my back. I still had Griffin but it was trapped under me and I couldn't breathe. The tauros tore off my breastplate and greaves, then my shirt and breeches, and … you know what it did."

"Did it bite as well as rape you? They often do."

"Yes. My breast. Left." She forced out the words. "It bit the end off." Alanna blanched. "I didn't know at the time, only the pain. Great waves of it. Then more, inside me. I knew what was happening in my head somewhere but I didn't understand at the time. In the dream, if it gets that far before I wake up, I can feel it much more clearly. I even feel my maidenhood go before the real pain starts."

"You were a virgin?" Alanna was surprised. "I thought Cleon …"

"No, we never did." Welcoming any other topic Kel got up to put more logs on the fire, poking it so she didn't have to look at Alanna. "We kissed, when we could, and once almost had each other's shirts off before we were interrupted. But apart from that time he never even put a hand on my breasts. Even when I wanted him to." She fed smaller sticks to the blaze, watching it flare. "I thought it was because he was serious about marriage, despite his family, and nobles marry virgins."

Alanna snorted. "Not always they don't."

"Well, it's what I thought. But looking back, I don't think he ever really loved … no, I don't know that, but never really wanted me. Wanted me, the way I wanted him. It was the idea of a lady knight he liked, in a storybook way." Understanding bloomed. "And being with me but never doing anything was a way to save himself for his marriage, as he thought he should, and stop me from, from … I don't know, sullying myself, so his dream stayed pure."

Alanna made a rude noise. "I'm beginning to dislike him a great deal. Selfish young idiot. Still, wasn't there ever anyone else?"

"Not really."

"And you haven't … well, obviously you haven't, though you're free to. Are you romantic or religious about sex?"

"I'm not anything about it. I'd just never done it before."

"You haven't now, Kel. That wasn't sex, and don't ever think it was."

"I know. It doesn't matter anyway. I realised after Cleon had to get married that I'd probably never have a man."

"Eh? What do you mean, Kel, never have a man? Why not? Do you prefer women?" "What? Do I … oh, you mean fujojoufu. No. Not that I know." "Then why do you—"

Kel lost her temper though she managed to control her voice. "Alanna, your nickname is the Lioness—fierce, strong, deadly, yes, but also beautiful. Graceful. My nicknames have been The Cow, The Lump, The Girl, and Mother." She managed a crooked smile. "Now it's Protector of the Small, and I've skipped straight from maiden to crone."

Alanna looked appalled. "But Kel—"

Kel's voice got flatter still. "There have been three men I've ever thought about that way, Alanna, and I've told you about Cleon. The other two never noticed I thought anything of them except as friends, and it was clear as sunlight they both liked a very different sort of woman—with curves and graceful hands and no scars everywhere. I wasn't, what did you say? romantic or religious about being a virgin. It was frustrating and dull, in lots of ways. I was just a realist. Gods

know the only living thing that's ever lusted for me, unless Cleon did, was that tauros. So that's that. It's just one more thing I've lost."

Alanna took a deep breath. "I hear you, Kel, but I don't think it's true in the way you mean and we'll come back to this. But for now please go on. The tauros raped you. Forgive me, but did it spend?"

Kel looked back at the fire. "I think so. I had these little burns on my stomach and thighs, as well as being numb inside." Kel frowned. "Actually I think it spent when I stabbed it."

"You stabbed it? What with? Griffin?"

"Yes. I got it out from under me and just pushed up."

"Good for you."

"Then"—Kel looked up from the fire—"this is guessing, really. My dream never gets this far, but"—she returned her eyes to the flames—"it's strange, but I think when I stabbed it, it spent and pulled out of me at the same time. I suppose that's how I got burns from its seed inside and out. And I don't know if it was the right thing to do, though I wasn't exactly thinking, because its barbs … I died of blood loss, I think. When I was sent back there was blood everywhere."

Alanna 's face was very grim. "Come here a minute, Kel." Reluctantly Kel stood and faced her. "Closer, so I can touch your belly." Purple fire played over Kel's stomach, sinking in, and Alanna's eyes were distant for a few seconds. "Alright. Sit. Look at me." Kel obeyed, feeling resentment fill her. "It did spend. Have you had a monthly since?"

"No. I'm infertile, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry, yes. The gods didn't fix that, apparently. Which … no, tell me what happened after you died—as exactly as you can."

"Oh, there's no problem being exact with that, though I've not told anyone the full story. Quenuresh knows most—I talked to her while she was helping with Peachblossom afterwards."

"Start at the beginning, Kel. You died. Then what?"

Kel told her, letting the words the Black God and Hag had spoken flow from her memory at last. Alanna was speechless for a long moment.

"You saw his face." Her voice was wondering. "I've never heard of anyone doing that. Nor of receiving such forgiveness for sending souls to him. Goddess knows you've paid a high price but I could envy you that."

Kel didn't turn her head. "Quenuresh said he hadn't showed anyone his face for an eon, and the forgiveness thing has happened 'only thrice since the Godwars', whenever they were. So I'm number four."

"And the only one alive, almost certainly. I understand why you haven't told anyone that bit. But the Black God said it was a gift of his own giving, yes? And before that the key things were that Shakith said you couldn't have avoided death, the tauroses were chaos-touched and Mithros and the Goddess wouldn't permit interference by Uusoae, they were busy elsewhere, and his daughter's healing would be only of your life. Goddess, that's odd. Then he showed his face, gave you his blessing, and the Hag showed up with her hyena. What were her words again?"

Still not looking at Alanna, Kel repeated them.

"Sakuyo's a mystery to me but he laughed here and he's obviously watching as closely as any of them. George says the Hag's a trickster too, so I guess that makes sense. His Spearness would be Mithros, I suppose. Huh. Good one. And the last thing she said was that you needed teasing? It doesn't make much sense. Do you know what she meant?"

"Oh yes. I know exactly what that … what she meant." Alanna cocked an eyebrow. "You sound angry with her, Kel."

"Furious. I know I shouldn't be but … oh curse that Hag. I'll just show you. It's easier." She took off tunic and shirt and unwound her breastband, movements jerky with rage. "There. See? Even the tauros's bitemarks are preserved but nothing else. It has no feeling at all."

"Goddess!" Alanna peered at the grey thing that was shaped like but wasn't her breast— blunt and lifeless. "It's numb, you say? May I …?"

"Go ahead. I won't feel anything."

Dubiously Alanna prodded. "It's warm. You don't feel anything?"

"Not directly. If it moves enough to pull the living bit I feel that."

"And is—"

"Yes, the same, where the barbs ripped me. Do you need to see?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

Wordlessly Kel stripped off the rest of her clothes. Distantly, behind rage, she thought Alanna might be more embarrassed than she was, but her shame was being drowned in fury. Pulling breeches back on and rewrapping her breastband she found her hands shaking and couldn't tuck in the loose end.

"Let me."

Alanna did it efficiently and Kel found herself spitting words again.

"That's the Hag's tease. Mockery would be a better word. It wasn't enough not to let me die or to send me back alone."

"Alone?"

"The tauroses killed nine people, not counting me. Did they somehow get magically not chaos-touched when they were killing Wallan and Pevis and Crener and those poor farmers, or raping the other women? My death's forbidden for some reason but not theirs. That's why I didn't say anything about being dead. I was ashamed. I am ashamed. I can hardly look Jarna in the eye."

"Goddess, Kel—"

"It's not even punishment. If I'd done something to warrant that I'd understand. But I haven't, that I know. And I think the Black God's grace was a kind of compensation for what he knew his daughter would do. But he didn't stop her."

"Kel, I don't believe the Goddess intended this at all. It's not like anything I've ever heard

of."

"Yes, she did. The night before I …" Embarrassment suddenly returned. "I was … in bed, I was … I touched myself thinking about D— … about a man I … imagined I wanted and it was lonely and … and honourless and I thought maybe I should just have done, and dedicate my virginity as a warrior, a Lady Knight, to the goddess, like those fighting priestesses in Sarain." Kel could hear bitterness crowding her voice and couldn't stop it. "Daine told me to be careful what I prayed for but it wasn't a prayer, only a thought. I was mocking myself, my own stupid needs and wanting someone who doesn't notice me because no-one wants a cow with a body like a tree-trunk. But they heard me in all my stupidity and shame and they mocked me for real." Her voice was rising and she couldn't control it. "I was thinking I should put the energy into service, not mooning about, and I would have, but no, I can't be trusted to do that even when I'm already so plain I'm of no interest to any man, I have to be made a horror to myself too."

Her face was wet, mortification and rage seamlessly one.

"All I ever wanted was to be a knight so I could help people, and just for that all those people insulted and mocked me, the Girl, the Probationer, the Lump. Joren and Vinson and Garvey and Quinden and all those boys, jeering and tricking and spitting, and now the gods have done it too and I can't stand it. They want me to do something and it needs this? It's …it's …"

Whooping for breath, aching with rage, she ran out of words and truth as a shaking Alanna grabbed and held her, silently, until she'd stilled, then guided her to her chair. In some part of her mind Kel noted she was again dealing with her high command stripped to her breastband and wondered if she'd ever find anything funny again, with self-mockery such a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Kel, Goddess knows I can understand why you'd think all that, and I'm sorry I didn't realise how isolated you've been. Well, I did, but thanks to Cavall and that blasted probation nonsense there wasn't anything I could do. But you're wrong about the Goddess, I swear. She'd never intend this, or do this."

"She already did."

"No she didn't, the Hag did. Now, listen. The Black God said his daughter's healing was only of your life—and I don't think she can do any more than that. She's the only god who can raise the dead—it's the power she lent Daine in Carthak that got us Bonedancer—and I suspect she was needed here, for you, because of it. But he didn't say anything about any other god's healing, and when the Green Lady gave you that warning about calling on the Goddess in need, I'm betting she knew this death was waiting for you, and knew what would happen, and wanted you to call on the Goddess to heal you properly. Only you haven't because you thought you were meant to stay like this. We can fix that right now."

Kel blinked tears, trying to process what Alanna was saying. "Fix what? How?"

"Fix you, by calling on her, of course. She usually listens to me and we've got that spiral."

"No." Kel's reaction was panic-stricken. "I can't face the Goddess."

"Why ever not?"

"I … I …" Truth broke through again, the thing all her anger had done its best to hide though it never really hid anything and tears rolled again down her face. "I'm too ashamed. I failed her, failed myself and those poor women. But I've been given another chance to do what I most want, to defend them all against whatever it is that's going to happen, sent back by the Black God himself with such sadness and kindness in his eyes. I can't demand more."

"Kel, that's nonsense. You didn't fail anyone."

"Yes I did, Alanna. They're dead and I should be. Protector of the Small? I couldn't even protect myself."

"Horsebuns. We need the Goddess right now. Where's that spiral?"

Ignoring Kel's protests Alanna rose and fetched it, then to Kel's distant shock grinned. "You might want to put your shirt on first."

Shaking, Kel did so, wondering if she could stand another god but knowing she couldn't stop Alanna and finding some part of her wondering if the Lioness was right, the grey lines in her flesh just a stopgap, not a judgement. But there was no time—Alanna didn't use much ritual, just held the spiral, took a few dried leaves from her belt pouch and threw them into the fire, and closed her eyes, concentrating. For a moment nothing happened, then a glow filled the room, brightening swiftly to silver and vanished leaving a tall woman in a long dress standing beside Alanna. Kel stared as her stomach churned. I am a lake, I am calm, I am a lake. The mantra didn't have much effect but the Goddess was looking at Alanna, not at her.

"My daughter. You did well to call me." The voice pierced like a blade, with that same belling of hounds running through it, and the face turned to Kel, as remote and serene as it was impossibly close, eyes a gateway to stars. "And you have done well also, my daughter. This suffering was no part of our intent."

Kel felt like a little girl again, at her mother's knee, though the goddess was no taller than she was herself. She hung her head, voice a whisper. "I'm so sorry I failed you."

"You did not fail me, daughter, though you have not served yourself so well. Look at me." The command could not be refused and those eyes swallowed her. "Come now and be healed."

The goddess held out her arms and Kel tottered into them, dissolving. Alanna found herself looking away from the anguished noise, tears in her eyes, but mercifully the sound faded in that divine embrace as silver cloaked Kel from head to foot. When Alanna turned back the Goddess was looking at her, face filled with sorrow and something else.

"I have been in distant lands and she did not call on me. But I shall have words for the Hag. You were right that her power was needed but she chose this manner."

Alanna took a deep breath, thinking bitterly that her restoration in Carthak after Ozorne's fall didn't seem to have improved the Hag's manners or temperament. "What is it you need Kel to do, my Lady? Or was it just Uusoae's interference?"

"Both. But I cannot speak of the future even to you, daughter. The balance is undecided and much may rest on her. She has chosen well so far, and we would not let remnants of Chaos prevent her."

"Kel was … very distressed about the others who were killed."

"They are at ease in the Peaceful Realms. Even for this my brother would not have let her return from the death of her body were it not for what Shakith has seen. But having allowed her return he does not grudge her wholeness. I will heal her in her womanhood but I cannot heal her mind, and the damage she has suffered in coming so far is grievous."

"I realise, my Lady. It's not just the rape."

"No, though few deaths are worse. It is the hatred she has faced for long, and her reaction

to the visions the elemental sent to guide her to the necromancer. The lives she saved seem to her less than the lives she could not. Tell her when she wakes that my brother gives special care to the children the necromancer killed. They play in peace and are annealed of pain and sorrow. And she is free to speak of all she knows."

Surprised, Alanna thought furiously. "Of being sent back, my Lady?"

"All."

"I'll tell her, but I doubt she'll want to. Few would believe her."

"She may have need and we will attest it, if she calls us. Tell her."

"I will, my Lady."

The silver faded. "It is done. She will wake at dawn."

Hastily Alanna stepped forward to take Kel as the goddess released her, sliding an arm around her. A hand rested momently on her head.

"You have my blessing too, my daughter, as you have always done."

Power swirled and Alanna was alone with Kel's considerable weight resting on her. With a grunt she lifted Kel to her shoulder and made for what must be the bedroom door, blessing military consistency when it was. After laying her on the bed she pulled off boots, set them down, and muttering curses at the Hag managed the rest of Kel's clothes, thought about a nightshirt, then just manoeuvred her into bed. The flesh she saw for the second time was pink and healthy, breast restored and womanhood unmarked. Alanna smoothed her hair affectionately.

"Little idiot. Big idiot, actually. The Goddess isn't like that at all." She straightened groaning, hands in the small of her back. "How could you think it?"

But she knew: she hadn't faced such hatred until she was a knight, she'd always had her Gift and since she'd been a squire the Goddess, and Faithful, and she'd found her body's grace with Jonathan knowing George was waiting. In those terms Kel had had nothing and Alanna marvelled anew, as when she'd heard about Lalasa Isran's kidnapping and what Kel had done, and when she'd seen Kel joust and realised how good she was. She'd felt it again this summer when Jon contacted told her Kel was back and confirmed Blayce's death and the rescue of all— count 'em, all—the kidnapped children, all but a dozen adults, and all surviving liegers of King Maggot himself; whose clanhome, Jon added with grim satisfaction, had been burnt. And now this —gods all over doing things they hadn't done for millennia and Kel working wonders while believing herself as mocked by gods as she had been by so many fellow Tortallans.

"You're still an idiot, but Goddess, you're amazing." Stooping Alanna kissed Kel's brow and went back to the study, adding logs to the fire and putting up the guard before recalling her magic from walls and door and heading out to find some of that excellent food and do some reassuring. As she closed the outer door behind her the next along opened and Tobe's head stuck out, followed by Neal's above and Jump's below, a sparrow perched between his ears. Alanna shook her head.

"She'll be fine. The goddess has healed her properly and she's sleeping. Tobe, go keep her company, and take Jump and Nari, is it? Keep an eye on the fire too. Oh, and I couldn't get her into a nightshirt so mind how you hug her. Neal, I'm not saying a thing—it's up to Kel what she chooses to tell anyone, but I promise you she's better now than the last two gods she met left her."

"The last two … Mithros."

"No, he's one she hasn't met yet. Something to look forward to. Now, take me to food, quickly. I want to try these whatchamacallums, pickles that Yuki makes. Chop chop."

Wisely, Neal chopped.

It was exactly dawn when Kel opened her eyes to find Alanna sitting on the end of her bed, drinking a mug of tea and offering another.

"She said you'd wake at dawn. The gods' sense of time isn't always so precise but I thought it might be this time. Here. Door's shut and Tobe's asleep, finally, so you can sit up. How much do you remember?"

"Everything, I think." Slowly Kel sat up, sheet and blanket falling away. She looked at her healthy breast and cupped it, rejoicing in sensation. "Is my …"

"Yes, the rest of you's fixed as well. Do you want this tea? It's proper stuff, not a healer's

brew."

"Please." She was very thirsty, hungry too; healings did that and she'd missed dinner. "Thank you, that's good. And thank you for—"

"You don't have to thank me, Kel. You were owed. Are owed. Now, if you're properly awake, listen a minute. With your Council meeting at mid-morning we don't have a lot of time but there's a few things that need saying, starting with the fact that you're an idiot. I called you one several times last night while I was putting you to bed. I am beginning to understand just how bad a time you've had, and I do understand how it felt like mockery, as if the gods had done what Joren did, the same way the tauros echoed that rapist Genlith."

Kel hadn't thought of that at all and blinked surprise.

"You were dealing with the Hag and she can be plain mean, though you'd no reason to know. But even so you shouldn't have thought the Goddess had done that. All gods are baffling, I know, but few do things like that. And you let it stay that way when if you'd called on the Goddess—which the Lady told you to do—you'd have been fixed quicker."

"Maybe so—"

"No maybes about it, Kel. And if you'd told me what was afflicting you, even hinted, I'd have told you there and then to use that spiral and call the Goddess." Alanna wagged a finger. "It's not talking to the healer, again. I have more sympathy for Neal about your shoulder than I did yesterday. It's also what you did when you reported to Jon expecting him to send you off to Traitor's Hill for having disobeyed Cavall's idiot order, hmm? Thinking you deserve to be punished when the opposite is true? Well, stop it. Natural modesty served you well as a page and squire, very well, but as a commander we need you beating up Scanrans, not yourself. Not that you don't beat up Scanrans too."

Given that she was sitting topless in bed, and bottomless too from the feel of it—the feel of it—Kel wasn't so sure about modesty, natural or otherwise, but did hear what Alanna was saying; then again, she'd heard Wyldon to the same effect as well. All she really wanted to do was inspect

herself and absorb being whole, but Alanna wasn't done.

"Now, a couple of other things. The Goddess said she'd healed you in your womanhood, so expect monthlies to start again and get an anti-pregnancy charm." Alanna held up a hand. "Don't tell me you're unlikely to need one. It's your body and your decision but all that stuff you were saying about being ugly just isn't true, Kel. You just haven't met the right person, and I doubt you've been trying. But there's something else as well, because just as all the insults made you feel ugly, and Goddess knows I understand how that works, the adulation you'll get in Corus will make you feel very differently about yourself. Or it should."

"Adulation? Alanna, why in the mortal realms should I—"

Alanna sighed. "Kel, your report was published, remember—and that doesn't mean copied by a clerk for the files. It was read out in the main square and when we ride into Corus there's going to be a young riot. Jon wanted an official welcome but I managed to head him off. Can't do that to the people, though."

Appalled, Kel hunched into her pillows. "I don't want adulation."

"Tough. Shouldn't be a heroine then—comes with the job. Anyway, everyone knows about Rathhausak and the killing devices. Jon put one on show as soon as he was sure Blayce was dead." Kel shuddered. "It was a good move. And it's gone now, I'm assured. But they don't know about your dying and being sent back." Again she held up a hand. "Hear me out. I'm not saying you should or shouldn't tell whoever, and I won't tell anyone before you do, even George or Jon. But I am saying it's your decision if and whom you do. The Goddess said Tell her also that she is free to speak of all she knows. I said I didn't think you'd want to and people wouldn't believe you, but she said She may have need and we will attest it, if she calls on us. So— if you need at some point to say what happened, and anyone scoffs, swear by her and make the circle."

Wide-eyed, Kel nodded. "Alright. I can't imagine why I'd want to tell anyone but I'll remember."

"See you do. For the Goddess to mention it there must be a future where you'll need to, for some reason. Who knows?"

Kel mulled it over. "You said she said 'Tell her also …'. Also what?"

Alanna's face softened. "Pure comfort. The children Blayce killed have special treatment from the Black God. They play in peace, and are annealed of their pain and sorrow , she said. And the others the tauroses killed. The Black God was only willing to let you return because of what Shakith has seen, Uusoae's influence or no, but the others have been comforted. I thought you'd want to let the orphans know, and Jarna. Best do it today. I don't like the look of the weather and we'll need to be gone tomorrow."

Too grateful to speak Kel nodded and Alanna rose. "Go wash. I'm going to sleep, but have me woken in good time for the meeting please."

"Of course. Were you up all night? I'm sor—"

"Do stop apologising, Kel. And I wasn't. You were sleeping and I left you to it. Tobe kept the fire going, bless him, until I sent him to bed a candle-mark ago. But I was up late with Neal and Yuki—having had to miss their wedding thanks to Maggot we had catching up to do. I didn't say anything except the Goddess healed you properly; what you tell them's up to you. Now I'm going, and you need to be."

Left with a sense of bobbing in Alanna's wake like a cork Kel was able at last to examine and find herself whole. Washing, the simple pleasure of responsive flesh brought tears and she let them flow, but the morning was too good, much too good, to spend snivelling. Dressed and feeling wonderful, if bemused, she looked in on a sleeping Tobe, collected Jump and Nari, and went to find people to give good news. Most at New Hope rose at dawn and neither the orphaned children or Jarna were exceptions. Though the sun was shining the fort remained in the fin's shadow and the air had a bite, but telling them to dress warm and swinging her arms in a brisk routine while she waited, she led them to the shrines and quietly told them of the Goddess's reassurances. The tears were collective, with prayers of thanks to the Black God, and when they'd run their course Kel scooted them all off to breakfast.

Ravenous, she piled her tray with extra bacon and went to sit with Neal and Yuki, tucking in. Both eyed her curiously.

"You seem better. The Goddess came, Alanna said?"

"She did. I am. Never better." Kel applied herself to eating as they exchanged glances, then relented. "I expect I'll tell you sometime, but not now. It's too good to be whole again, and I have to prepare for the meeting as I didn't get anything done last night."

"It sounds like you got a great deal done, Kel." Yuki smiled, relief in her eyes. "Just not for the meeting."

Kel cleaned her plate. "I suppose. I wasn't really doing anything, though. Just talking and being healed."

"Exhausting activities both." Neal's irony was a refuge, his voice light. "It is good to see you less troubled, Kel."

"It's good to be so." She reached to squeeze their hands, then stood and on impulse leaned and kissed them both, Neal on the forehead and Yuki on the cheek. "Thank you both, for everything. You're better friends than I deserve. I must go. See you both at the meeting."

Pleased to leave someone else looking as bemused as she felt she bounced to the stables, woke Peachblossom by kissing his muzzle, and spent twenty minutes apologising to her horses for having been moody and spreading cheer with apples. That done she went to headquarters, goosed clerks with warm greetings, and retired to her office to sort out what she wanted from the meeting. There wasn't much, mostly to make sure everyone knew what should happen in her absence, but with her mind spinning she did think of a few points to mention and soon had a neatly written agenda. She fitted in a check with the gatehouse and a quick round before getting mugs of tea from the messhall and going to wake Alanna with a return favour as a downpayment of gratitude.

The meeting was both extraordinary and without event. All but Alanna knew one another well by now but were self-consciously pleased to inaugurate New Hope's Council; then again, there were ten people, three of them women, a basilisk, an ogre, and a very large spidren more or less sitting round a table. Alanna had been distinctly pale when first introduced to Quenuresh at the gatehouse, but the spidren mage's respectful enquiry about the divine disturbance the previous evening, followed by a warm greeting to Kel and a deal of magely talk, had left Lioness and immortal more interested in one another than wary.

The routine issues of Brodhelm's command with Mikal as second, with what he might and might not ask of immortals, and work priorities until winter harvest were all briskly sorted— practice sessions, especially with bows and slings; the gallery and lookout post; children's education and care; cross-training for adults. Then they turned to contingencies for attacks or emergencies and the only sharp moment came when Merric leaned back and gestured at the

window.

"Surely, Kel, but unless my nose is all wrong snow will be here tonight or tomorrow, and everything'll seize up until the thaw."

"Never think it, Merric." Kel's voice was hard and Merric sat straighter. "Tell me, what would you do if you wanted to attack New Hope, and had reports of an unscaleable glacis?"

"I'm not sure, Kel. I'd hate to have to assault this place." "Think again."

There was a pause before Brodhelm spoke. "Treason. Gates fall to treachery way more often than assault."

"Exactly." Kel looked Merric in the eye, then ran round everyone. "Don't relax because it snows. Merric, it's Midwinter Eve, nightwatch, snowing like crazy, and a party of obviously poor Scanrans shows up. They're freezing and there are children, at least one evidently injured.

'Please.' they say, 'we ask for refuge. We've fled Maggot's cruel oppression. Let us in.' What do you do?"

Merric looked at her. "Stay suspicious, obviously."

"Right. No-one, no-one you don't know personally comes in without the full gate routine, and if you do know them but they've never been here before you do the routine anyway. All of it, every time. The slightest hesitation or doubt—anything at all—and you treble the questions. Think about what's appropriate—not just 'do you mean harm?' but where were you born, where have you come from, are you loyal to Maggur, are you under orders, have you come because anyone asked you to, or told you to, do you have any mission here? The works."

"Kel, half those are the same thing." Merric frowned. "If someone isn't loyal to Maggur they wouldn't be coming here on a mission for him."

"Not true, Sir Merric," Zerhalm was blunt, Scanran accent thick. "Maggur Reidarsson deals in hostages and terror. It is well within his cunning to hold a wife or child and send the husband here. Or to hold husband and wife and send the child."

"Just so." Kel looked round. "If any Scanrans show up send for Zerhalm at once—he can question them in ways we can't. Similarly, if Tortallan commoners show up send for Fanche and Saefas, or if immortals show up—which I'm really not expecting but that's when it happens— send for our residents."

"And what do we do if someone is suspicious?"

"Good question. If they're armed, fight. If it's civilians or military wounded, well, I've been thinking. We don't have a secure cell because we've never needed one, but that can change. Var'istaan, Kuriaju, can you carve out a small chamber, no larger than it need be, with exactly one door? Thank you. Brodhelm, the smiths can see to that door. I want new locks for the gates, too— those up-and-down ones as well as crossbars."

"Good idea." Brodhelm made a note.

"If anyone is really problematical ask Quenuresh to wrap them up tighter than any fly and spoonfeed them. She can call the griffins if there's any uncertainty about anyone lying." Kel checked her agenda. "Brodhelm, Mikal, Merric, Uinse, when it snows be sure Peachblossom's loose and double your inspections of the duty watch—there's nothing like long cold winter nights

to make sentries silly. Keep the roadway clear as far as the moatbridge too—it's no good having a killing field if you can't see your traps. And one more thing." She leaned back herself. "Uinse, what would you do if you wanted to weaken us as much as you could?"

The former convict thought deeply. "Anything I could. Armies can't move in snow, but small bands can. I'd scout all I could while I thought we were dozing, salt winter crops, trigger rockfalls if I knew about them, and take killing shots from deep cover at anyone who came out."

"So would I." Kel looked in turn at Brodhelm, Mikal, and Merric, the last her real worry; knight or no, even after Haven Merric didn't quite believe the worst could occur, regardless of precautions and weather. He'd never died of it. "Don't think it might happen—assume it will, every day, every night. Check fields regularly for tracks. Quenuresh, could you ask the griffins to keep careful watch also whenever they fly? If it's moving on two legs Brodhelm needs to know. I'll ask the centaurs, and the sparrows can patrol as well. Oh, and the griffins and centaurs are welcome to food or shelter if they want it."

Quenuresh smiled widely. "I doubt either will but they'll be pleased you think to offer."

"As they will. What matters is that everyone is vigilant, always. I don't expect an army but I do expect something, some try for advantage or a killing. And please be careful yourselves. Everyone here is a prime target for anyone who wants to weaken us."

Zerhalm leaned forward. "You also, Lady Kel. An agent of Maggur's need not come to New Hope to weaken us if you are in Corus."

"True. I doubt he's thinking quite that way, but I shall be taking care, every day, I promise."

The meeting broke up, various participants seeking more personal discussions, and after lunch Kel, Brodhelm, and a shivering Alanna rode out with two squads to find the centaurs. Besides visits to trade and occasional sight of them with their horses in the southern valley Kel had seen little of the immortals, but when she blew the civil summons Whitelist and his mates soon trotted out of the woods. Presenting stone bowls and smoked meat Kel made introductions and requests, and after some polite, mutually satisfactory exchanges everyone trotted away again satisfied. By the time they were back at New Hope the bitter cold had vanished as even grey cloud began to set in.

"We'll be riding in snow tomorrow, Kel." Alanna shivered despite the rise in temperature. "How many are we?"

Kel counted in her head. Seaver, Neal, and Yuki wouldn't be there, but besides Alanna there would be herself with Tobe, who had never seen Corus and preferred the idea of Midwinter celebrations at court to whatever New Hope did; Irnai, whose presence had been requested; and three men from Brodhelm's and Uinse's companies whom she'd granted leave to attend memorials and a wedding. Jump and the sparrows would keep Peachblossom and Hoshi company.

"Seven, two children. Plus two squads as far as Bearsford."

"We'd best be off at the crack then, if we'll have twenty-nine to find rooms for in Bearsford. Even for you I'm not camping in snow—and the Drunken Carter does excellent hotpot. The innkeep was an army bowyer before he retired to marry the last one's daughter."

Laughing, Kel followed her childhood heroine and friend to the messhall.


	11. Chapter 9

Kinship

Part III – Midwinter

December 461 – February 462 HE

Chapter Nine — Kinship

5–16 December

To Kel's eyes Corus was at once familiar and strange. Buildings were where they ought to be but the City wall and Palace enclosure seemed less impressive than she remembered. After a day she decided it was because her image had been made when she was a newcome page to whom everything was oversized, and fixed by her fear of heights and having to run the allering of the Palace wall. When she mentioned it the Lioness agreed, waggling a hand, but retorted it wasn't Corus seeming smaller but Kel being bigger, and that as the world wouldn't make more room for her on that account until she cleared some for herself she was bound to feel cramped. Kel took this under advisement, protesting there was quite enough of her already, but suspected Alanna was right.

Their journey had been pleasant enough. Alder had proven as good for a journey as a joust, with an easy gait, and they had made good time. The fun of watching Tobe and Irnai see new landscapes, continuing their practical educations and drawing in soldiers travelling with them, kept conversation animated, and the children's excited reactions to Corus and the wide Olorun, the Palace rising above the city and the expanse of the Royal Forest beyond were deeply satisfying to Kel—they ought to know what was at the heart of the realm. Her own bemused happiness continued, simple pleasure in restored well being remaining undiminished. Even resumption of her monthlies with accompanying aches and inconvenience proved welcome.

What had not been enjoyable at all, in Kel's opinion—Alanna and Tobe begged to differ —was entry into the city. Mindful of Alanna's prediction about her probable reception Kel had done her level best to persuade everyone not to stop only ten miles north of the last rise before the city and ride on in winter dark and persistent drizzle, hoping an arrival closer to midnight than dinnertime would spare her whatever fuss was waiting. But Alanna had been unmoved, wanting food and warmth, with the inevitable result next day that after parting with the soldiers, all heading east, they reached the gates in late morning. The exaggerated respect of watchmen on the Kingsbridge when they identified the arrivals had been bad enough, but as they rode up Palace Way Kel heard the Chamber's absurd tag being shouted. By the time they reached the Daymarket the crowd had thickened, and cheering started with cries of 'Protector' and 'Mindelan'. Kel put her Yamani mask firmly in place until Alanna told her to smile; she thought she must look like a grinning idiot, and regarded the slow miles until they escaped into the Palace district as an ordeal she could have done without.

She had waved, mouthing platitudes amid noise while knowing she'd gone as red as a

beet. It all seemed absurd, unconnected with anything that had driven her into Scanra, but she knew plenty of soldiers who'd faced killing devices and too often died on their blades had been from Corus. Even so, the relative calm of the Palace enclosure had never been so welcome, and after they'd stabled their horses she automatically set off with relief for her old rooms only to be hauled back by Alanna and steered instead not even to the knight's wing but to a set of rooms in the commanders' quadrant, an area new to her. Startlement ebbed when she realised Tobe and Irnai were billeted with her and had cotbeds in a side-chamber, but even more than the crowds the rooms brought home to her how her status had risen; that her command was not limited to New Hope. Sprawling as the Palace might be rooms were at a premium, and a set like these, with a privy, side-chamber, and sitting room, were gold, an unarguable sign of rank.

Practicalities rescued her from shock and she spent an hour making sure Tobe and Irnai knew the basic layout and places that mattered, including the day-kitchen where they snagged turnovers for lunch. Then she took them to see the pages' and squires' wing where she'd spent so long. The pages were out with Lord Padraig in the Royal Forest, so she was spared embarrassments but missed her nephew Lachran. She and the children did get strange looks from squires who happened to see them, and though Kel had intended to go on to the Own's barracks and stables, where Tobe would appreciate the horseflesh and someone might have news of Dom, she headed instead up to the teachers' floor hoping to find Daine. It turned out the Wildmage wasn't back yet from the north but Kitten welcomed them volubly and dragged Numair from his books. Greeting Irnai gravely, he offered her meetings with other seers resident at the Palace, if she'd like, while Kel and a charmed Tobe were enthusiastically bombarded by Kitten with the news that her grandsire had promised to visit her during the celebrations to see how she fared and teach her new dragonspells. The opal dragon Kawit was already at the Palace and he wanted to have a long talk with her too.

"There's another dragon here?"

There is. Kitten's mindvoice sounded very smug.

"And your grandsire is Diamondflame? The eighty-foot one?"

Eighty-five, not counting his tail. Dragons don't have kings but he is the most important except for Rainbow Windheart and the strongest magically. He says I will be very strong too because I have started young and had many experiences in the mortal realms. I saw him in the Dragonlands five years ago but he has not been here since he brought Mama and me back from the Divine Realms after she killed Ozorne.

Who Rainbow Windheart might be Kel wasn't sure but a memory clicked in her mind. "Was that when you gave Lord Mithros a scolding?"

Yes, but he didn't listen. Grandsire says gods usually don't and that is one reason they are so annoying.

Kel hadn't thought of gods that way but decided Diamondflame sounded a very sensible dragon. "Well, if you meet the Graveyard Hag, please scold her for me. Bite her too, if you get a chance."

She is strange even for a god. I met her in Carthak and she upset Mama a great deal, so I will certainly bite her if I get the chance. What has she done to annoy you?

"She played a trick on me I didn't like at all. It was nasty and personal, so I hope you do get the chance. But please don't ever bite the Goddess or the Black God—they've both been very nice to me."

Alright. You have been meeting a lot of gods, Kel. I saw a great many at their Court with Mama but I haven't met any since except Mama's parents. Grandsire says dragons annoy them as much as they annoy us, but that is silly. Most dragons are nice.

"If they're like you they must be, and I'm happy you're so happy about seeing your grandsire." Whether anyone else would be pleased by a visiting eighty-five-foot dragon Kel doubted, but looked forward to the event. "I need to see my parents, too, and take Irnai to meet them."

They will be pleased to see you, as I am. How long are you staying?

"I'm not sure, but until after the celebrations at least. Then it depends on the weather. I'll see you again when your Mama gets back if not before. And if you get bored I'm sure Tobe and Irnai would be glad of a visit. Do you know where my new rooms are?"

Kitten didn't so Kel explained, and after quietly telling Numair that the Goddess had visited New Hope and there were fragments of information he could get from Alanna, she took Tobe and Irnai to bathe and change before going to her parents' townhouse. Determined to avoid any repeat of the fuss in the city she put her status to use and nabbed a closed carriage from the palace yard, which pleased both children. Her parents' house-steward Hiroaki was surprised but pleased to see her, offering dignified congratulations in a reserved Yamani way she could deal with, and they made their way to the sitting room her parents used.

Both were there, delighted to see her and Tobe and meet Irnai again, but so was Conal and even while her parents were greeting Irnai Kel knew that however popular her adventures might have made her with the citizens of Corus it had only deepened his open dislike. In the strange way of bullies he'd never forgiven her for being his victim in childhood, nor for the threats to disown him in which her father had exploded after the tower episode; perhaps in consequence he'd come to regard their parents as too liberal, and as a knight had drifted towards conservatives who loudly condemned the 'irresponsible and sacrilegious decision' to allow a girl page. His first words were an aggressive sneer.

"So, little sister, you think your popularity and pet status entitles you to disrespect nobles from the Book of Silver, do you? You'd better not try such a thing in my presence."

Kel blinked, realising he must be referring to Tirrsmont, and though dismayed to discover that story in circulation anger flared with memory of the man's disregarded responsibilities. Her voice came out clipped.

"If you mean Tirrsmont, Conal, I suggest you discover how General Vanget refers to him before you decide he's a paragon of virtue. Unlike him I said nothing untrue or obscene, and he was far outside his rights."

Her tone brought her mother's head round but he didn't notice.

"You insulted and threatened him on his own lands and you'll not get away with it."

"They're not his, Conal, and never will be. He disgraces his title."

"You're the disgrace, you and this Scanran bastard."

Red faced he left, ignoring the children save for a look of contempt that brought concern to Tobe's face, and Kel cursed him viciously in her mind before telling her son he was in a bad mood and not to fret. Obviously cross, her mother started to apologise to Tobe but Kel hushed her.

"It doesn't matter, mama. He's always been a grouch."

"It's worse than that, Kel, and you know it. He has no civility or judgement these days. I'm really quite tired of the boy."

For her mother those were strong words and Kel wondered what Conal had been saying or doing to warrant them, but friendlier family chat was more enticing. A letter from Patricine in the Islands had arrived the previous week, and after news of Anders, Inness, and her sisters— Oranie and Adelia would shortly be arriving with husbands and children but pregnant Demadria was staying with her new husband—there was the foiled attack on Mindelan to hash over.

"Are the navy ships still there?"

Her father nodded. "The damaged one is being repaired but another arrived as cover. Wolfship season's over though, thank Mithros."

"Good. I have a horrible feeling it was a revenge attack. I'm sorry."

"Oh nonsense, Kel. Even if we were targeted you've no call to apologise." Her mother searched her face. "But what about you? Your letters said nothing but there was a rumour you'd been hurt again. The King said it was just a close call but wouldn't say what happened."

The invitation was obvious and Kel had reluctantly decided honesty required her to tell her mother the truth, but hoped to tell the story only once and had warned Tobe and Irnai—who knew how badly she'd been affected—she'd be deflecting enquiries.

"Not now, Mama. It's complicated and it was rough for a while, but I promise you I'm well. Very well, in fact. Are you training in the mornings with Shinko and the Queen?"

Accepting her words, though obviously concerned, Ilane nodded. "Whenever I can. Will you join us tomorrow?"

"Yes. If Shinko and the Queen have time after we might talk then." "Alright. Now, about those glaives you wanted …"

An hour passed in chatter and Kel was delighted to see Tobe relaxing, though wide-eyed at the size of the house and the more exotic Yamani items among her parents' décor. Irnai was more self-contained but obviously happy too, interested in lifestyles new to her. Dragging herself reluctantly away Kel took them to Lalasa's dress shop, for the pleasure of seeing her friend and the serious business of tailoring. Her dresses damaged at Haven had never recovered and while she hoped to get away with attending only the Queen's and King's balls there was no escaping those; she also wanted a dress to celebrate her healing, and was determined Tobe and Irnai would have some finery.

As soon as Lalasa saw them she excused herself from a hectoring woman whom no skill in needlework would ever make look other than comfortably plump but whose affront seemed almost to become pleasure when she realised with squeaking excitement she'd been abandoned for the Protector of the Small herself. Ignoring her, Lalasa took them to a private room and after shutting the door hugged Kel fiercely.

"Oh, my Lady, it's so good to see you. I nearly burst when they proclaimed your report in the Daymarket. And business has been non-stop ever since."

"It's your skills that do that Lalasa, and it's good to see you too. Thank you for that wonderful kimono as well—it's lovely, and it's been a boon. But let me introduce you to Tobe, my son, and to Irnai."

Lalasa knew about her adoption of Tobe and recognised Irnai's name from Kel's report, eyes widening before natural kindness took over and she welcomed the girl. They chatted, Kel learning with a first real satisfaction in her new status that besides swelling Lalasa's business with a range of customers from circles that hadn't previously patronised her, the self-defence classes for women had also swollen in size and number since the report had made Kel famous.

"Most people knew you'd taught me, of course—I tell every new group about that—but when I started out some lower-city men were very rude about women fighting, and about you, my Lady. Not now, though—they're proud of a connection. I've four women teaching classes, including a Dog from the Jane Street Kennel, and it's put a spring in all our steps, that you did what all the top knights and mages couldn't."

Kel still wanted to be flustered by such inordinate praise but her genuine gladness at the increase in the number of women who could reasonably hope to defend themselves against a predator like Vinson made it easier to accept. She did steer conversation as swiftly as possible to New Hope, letting the children describe it and the visit of the Wildmage's parents. Lalasa just smiled at their account of the glacis and caves, not visualising what they meant in physical terms, but the tale of the gods' sounds behind the chimes had her making the circle on her chest, and when she heard that when Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady had manifested Kel had asked them to dinner and they had danced she was for once rendered speechless, staring consternation.

"You … you invited them to dinner, my Lady?"

Kel smiled ruefully. "I did, Lalasa. They wanted to see their daughter as well as bless their shrines so it was only polite. And they were very kind though Lord Weiryn's antlers are a bit disconcerting." Lalasa didn't look convinced simple politeness required divine dining, nor sure what to make of anyone having antlers, but with a surge of affection and a sense of mischief she hadn't felt for a long time and rejoiced to feel again Kel leaned forward confidentially.

"I'll tell you what was much more surprising, Lalasa—I danced with Lord Wyldon!" Lalasa's hands flew to her mouth. "You didn't!"

""Oh yes I did. He asked and I could hardly refuse. He's mellowed more than you'd think possible. He's a good dancer too."

"My Lady!"

Lalasa's real amusement at the idea of stiffly proper Wyldon doing such a thing and having light feet got her over her astonishment at Kel's consorting with gods and they turned to business. Kel explained with apologies and regret what had happened to her wardrobe when Haven burned and her need for a dress to wear to balls as well some further replacements in due course.

"But I also want things for the children, Lalasa. A proper Mindelan tunic and good breeches for Tobe, and something lovely for Irnai. I don't think she's ever had new clothes or anything fine." She ruffled the girl's hair and was rewarded with a smile. "I know it's a lot in a short time but they'll be coming to the balls with me as well, so I was hoping you could manage. I'd like some sturdy everyday outfits for them too, but that's not so urgent."

"It's no problem, my Lady. Lady Oranie told me you'd be here and I know how hard you are on clothes, so I've things set aside. And the children's wear is easier anyway. Let me measure you all."

She bustled for a moment with the knotted strings of her trade, making both children

giggle by ending with careful measurement of noses, and took them off to a marvellous storeroom

to discuss fabrics and details. Familiar with Kel's taste for simpler wear than court fashion dictated

she had cunning suggestions; they settled on a design Kel had never seen with a very high waist

and a long skirt. The neckline would conceal the scar from Stenmun's axe, the fall of the skirt

meant she didn't have to worry about her unfashionable figure, and the high-cinched waist

worked far better with her small, widely spaced breasts than the low-cut, exposing necklines court

women favoured and Kel had always thought more revealing than was polite. She didn't believe

Lalasa's satisfied prediction that her appearance would make it the new fashion, though an odd

look came into Irnai's eyes as she heard the words, but if the style was experimental Kel didn't

mind—it was modest, it became her, and the worst anyone could say was that it was

unfashionable which bothered her not one whit. The colour would be a gorgeous deep blue Tobe

wanted for his own tunic, and at Kel's insistence embroidery would be limited to the hem and one

Mindelan owl over her crossed glaives with distaff border.

Tobe's tunic would have owl and glaives without the border, and Lalasa found a lighter blue fabric for breeches. Irnai was more of a conundrum, so taken with the rich colours and fabrics she couldn't say which she liked most. She was clear she didn't want anything she couldn't move freely in, and they decided on fine dark brown wool and a simple cut, Lalasa promising to have the dress embroidered with borders of flame in bright reds and yellows. Kel was reminded of a promise too long forgotten and asked for some red yarn for a new doll for Meech, explaining about the slow but so important balding of the old one.

"Oh, my Lady." Lalasa's face softened. "What a brave lad. And only five, fancy! I'm sure I couldn't have thought to do such a thing at that age. I know a woman in Festive Lane who makes dolls like that. She could do one for you with the right hair easily, if you'd like."

Kel did like, and they proceeded briskly to ordinary garments for herself and the children before returning to the private room for their usual wrangle about payment. Kel conceded on her dress, as she'd known she'd have to, but managed to get Lalasa to agree the cost of materials for the children, and a portion of the labour, would be set against Kel's tithe from the shop's earnings. She tried again, as hard as she could, to persuade Lalasa that profits were rightfully hers and she shouldn't give anything to Kel—a case pressed all the harder because business was booming and the size of the payments a real embarrassment—but on the principle of the thing Lalasa was absolute.

"If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have shop or profit, my Lady, and I'm still your maid. I always set my proper wage against the accounts." She folded her arms defiantly. "I've more money already than I ever expected and I'll not stint a penny of what's yours by right and custom."

Kel hadn't realised she was still—on paper—paying Lalasa a wage but stifled protest; she'd have to do some research before confronting that trick of Lalasa's accounting. She did, however, see a different counter.

"When's the last time I gave you a raise? I thought so. Your wage should have gone up three or four times by now, by at least half the original sum every time. You figure that in next time you do accounts, and backdate everything—I won't stint a penny of what's yours either."

Humour and admiration sparked in Lalasa's eyes. "Alright, my Lady. That's proper. And there's something else I was going to ask you. That woman in Festive Lane, and others I know, do good work and could do more if they could get themselves proper premises and stock and hire help. They can hardly get the time of day from the goldsmiths and can't afford the rates nimmers down here charge, but don't want charity. I lent one woman something to get herself started by hiring her as my undermaid and now she tithes to me. But you could do more and I know most of

what I've tithed to you is just sitting in that goldsmith's vault."

This idea Kel liked far more and promised to see the goldsmith to authorise Lalasa to withdraw whatever was needed. If these women had a tenth of Lalasa's skills it promised to make Kel richer in the long run but what pleased her was allowing talented women held back by nothing more than Tortall's snobbish conservatism to escape the poverty of so much of the lower city.

The spark returned to Lalasa's eye. "I thought you'd say that. Perhaps we'll call ourselves the Protector's Maids."

"You dare!"

Lalasa grinned and her face softened into a broader smile as a tap on the door was followed by a man's head poked through the opening.

"Lal, are you—oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy."

"That's alright, Tom, we're about done, I think. Come in, please. I'd like to present you to my Lady. This is Tomas Weaver, my Lady. We met down at the fabrics warehouse at the dock and we're good friends."

The man was short, slim, and cheerful, open face breaking into a smile as Lalasa spoke. "We're courtin', Lal, not just good friends, I hope. You'd be Lady Knight Keladry, then. I'm honoured to meet you—and thank you for all you've done for Lal. She's told me a lot about you."

He drew himself up to bow but Kel forestalled him, offering a hand he took with pleased surprise. His own was strong and clean, with a weaver's callouses, and though Kel was taken aback by his words, knowing Lalasa's history and lingering aversion to male company, she could see from her eyes that Tomas Weaver had been the man to persuade her otherwise. His obvious affection and easy kindness to the children, inviting them to call him Tom, put him further in her good books. He was as enthusiastic as Lalasa about the scheme, one of the women being a lacemaker he'd known since childhood, and a plan was hatched for Kel to meet some over the festival. By the time they'd had tea and biscuits, the light was fading and Kel reluctantly rose. Tobe bounced out with Tom, but as the women followed Irnai laid a hand softly on Lalasa's arm.

"The god says if you choose him he will be always true and gentle."

Startled, Kel and Lalasa looked down at the seer smiling up at them.

"Shakith?" Kel spoke for Lalasa's benefit.

"Yes. I asked how you'd look in your dress and she showed me, just as Tom came in, then added what I said. He's nice."

She skipped out after Tom and Tobe.

"She's for true, my Lady?"

"She is, Lalasa. Master Numair has no doubt she's one of Shakith's Chosen and her voice sounded when Irnai dedicated her shrine at New Hope—like a hawk in the distance. She sort of lit up for a moment too."

"Oh. And Tom's …" Her face was transformed. "I do trust him, my Lady, he's been nothing but kind. But I couldn't help remembering how my … how men can change with the drink in them. And now the goddess herself reassures me. Me."

"Are you thinking to accept his proposal, then?"

"I think I would have anyway but to be sure I'm not being a fool …"

"Well, I hope you'll be very happy. I'm delighted for you."

She gave Lalasa a hug as warmly returned and they followed the children. Not wanting to trouble with formalities after a long day Kel ignored the formal dinner sitting and took them to the kitchens that served the Own. Few she knew well were present, Raoul and Third Company having remained at Steadfast, but there were men of the First and Second she recognised who welcomed them to a plain but satisfying plat, and excellent winter-apple pie. They soon found they got better answers about Rathhausak and events at New Hope from Tobe and Irnai, so there was more chatter than Kel was comfortable with but she steeled herself. They also found a corporal from Second she didn't know who was from Masbolle and told her that though so far as he knew no-one had heard directly from Sergeant Domitan, he gathered the injured veteran was back at home, helping his brother with the estates but afflicted with a bad limp and by all appearances a deal of pain. Wincing, Kel thanked him and promised herself she'd write to Dom again as soon as she'd got the children to bed. It wasn't easy when she came to it, her recent experiences precluding frankness, but eventually she had a version that seemed informative and cheerful, mentioning Quenuresh and with a double exclamation-mark the litany of nicknames for the tauros skulls. She concluded with a renewed invitation to come to New Hope in spring, and went to bed in good heart.

When she made her way to the private practice courts at dawn, glaive in hand in case no practice weapon was available, Kel was astonished to find not only the Queen, Shinko, her mother, and a number of the Queen's Ladies, but also Lord Padraig. The Training Master had always been a swordsman by choice, preferring his blade to any polearm, and was uncomfortable with a glaive, hands slightly misplaced and stance off, leaving his warm-up pattern dance unbalanced. As there was a practice weapon waiting for her, once Kel had greeted everyone, giving Cricket a hug, she made sure he could see her as she weighed it more judiciously than she needed and carefully positioned her hands before beginning her warm-up with the slow, extended sweeps that were impossible unless your balance with the weapon was perfect. Their slowness allowed her to watch in peripheral vision as he read the lesson and adjusted his grip, at once finding a smoother rhythm. After two slow dances she recentred and started a more complex set, accelerating until her glaive was a blur and the comfortable heat of readiness filled her, sweat filming her face. When she came to a precise halt, glaive poised for the broom-sweeps-clean, there was applause and Lord Padraig came forward smiling to offer a hand she took with renewed surprise.

"Thank you, Lady Knight. That was a most tactful lesson before your impressive display. I felt the difference at once—like staffwork, really. I should have guessed for myself what I was doing wrong."

She smiled as she mopped face and hands. "I had it beaten into me for years, my Lord, by old Naruko at the Imperial Palace."

"That's what I wanted to ask about, actually. All three girls starting this year specifically asked about glaive training, with their parents' support, and I saw a fine display, like yours just now, from one of the Yamani delegation who came for the Princess's wedding, so I know what a

good weapon it can be. It's interesting—staff, stabbing spear, and sword all in one, but unlike any of them. The problem is we don't have anyone who can instruct. The King has written to the Emperor requesting teachers to train up our own but it'll be spring before they're here. We do have practice weapons, though few live ones yet, so I wondered if you might introduce the pages to the basics in the next few days, and make sure they're started right."

Extremely pleased with flexibility in thinking she hadn't expected—and for which he'd never been known—Kel agreed at once and they arranged for her to come to the pages' practice courts the following afternoon. Then sparring began, partners regularly swapping so Kel found herself paired successively with Uline, who grinned widely and offered congratulations between blows, a Queen's Lady she didn't know whose defence was ragged, and Thayet before finishing with her mother, by far the best match for her but without Kel's strength or reach. Time flew as practice absorbed attention and she was sorry when Thayet called a halt, groaning and arching her back.

"I'm getting old. Practice never used to feel like this."

"Nonsense, Thayet. I can give you fifteen years. You just ate too much at that shindig with the ambassadors last night."

Thayet laughed. "Guilty as charged, Ilane. The food was excellent and why you didn't stuff yourself too I can't imagine. Keladry, your mother said you wanted a word with Shinko and me so I've laid on breakfast in my rooms, if that's alright."

Kel walked with her mother behind the royals, telling her Lalasa was being courted and relaying news about clothing and the plan to finance women who needed only a start to get businesses up and running. Thayet and Shinko had been chatting about court gossip and switched attention to the conversation behind them when they caught its gist, continuing to quiz Kel over the table. Though distracted by some astonishingly flaky crescent-rolls, as light as she'd ever tasted and entirely delicious, Kel was happy to answer, adding information about Lalasa's self-defence classes entering a second generation, with the best of her first pupils acting as instructors to cope with demand. Thayet theatrically struck her forehead.

"Keladry, that's superb, and I'm an idiot. After the Chamber exposed that disgusting Vinson and I discovered how the Palace maids were being harassed I came down on the senior housekeepers like a ton of bricks, so I hope things are better but I'm not kidding myself I solved the problem. Jon and I subsidise the Temple of the Goddess to run patrols in the lower city and do what they can to aid and deter, but that's only a drop in the ocean. Teaching women to defend themselves, and mark any attacker, that's a real step."

Kel nodded. "Now there are more instructors available why don't you require all female Palace staff to attend classes? They'd have to go in rotation but I'm sure Lalasa would be glad to help and a royal imprimatur would bring more lower-city women in too."

Thayet hit her forehead again. "Twice an idiot—that's a deal, Kel."

Remembering her curiosity, Kel asked what had happened to Vinson at his trial, and Thayet scowled.

"He was found guilty right enough—with bruises and cuts still appearing randomly all over him and his confession on impeccable record no-one was defending him. Turomot sentenced him to five years in the mines as well as fining Genlith very heavily for trying to bribe him, so that was right too. And he gave the fine to the Temple of the Goddess, the upright old coot. But while Vinson was being transported north the party was attacked. Three guards and two convicts were killed, and he was taken—or freed. Jon and I are sure Genlith or Stone Mountain hired it done but

we can't prove anything and he's not been seen since."

"Oh." Disturbed Kel nevertheless took the opportunity. "That's ill news. And it connects with what I wanted to tell you all. Well, not wanted, but feel I should. Is this safe from eavesdroppers? It's really not for anyone else's ears."

"It can be. A moment." Thayet disappeared into an adjoining room, returning with an elaborately set ruby on a golden chain fastened round her neck. "It's spelled to mask conversation from more than a few feet away—a present from Kaddar that's proved very useful."

Kel imagined it had. "Thank you." She took a breath and looked at her mother. "The thing is … well, I met the Goddess recently, through Alanna, and she told Alanna I might need to tell someone about this—publicly, I mean—and if I swore it by gods' oath she'd make sure it was upheld. I can't imagine why I'd want to tell anyone at all, but Alanna didn't think she'd spoken idly and I wouldn't for the world have any of you learn this unexpectedly or by report. So I have to make sure you all know but please don't tell anyone else unless it happens, especially Papa."

Ilane's Yamani mask in place; so was Cricket's while Thayet was frowning at mention of the Goddess.

"Alright, Kel. I have a feeling I'm not going to like this one bit, but that's reasonable. What is it?"

Kel decided shock tactics were best. "Back in September, not long after you left New Hope, we were attacked—a mage and seven tauroses went after an outlying group cutting hay down the valley and killed both guards and five of the six farmers. I wasn't far away with two guards and between us we killed the mage and six tauroses, but my guards were down—one dead, the other out cold—and there was the seventh tauros. It unhorsed me, and, well, you know what tauroses do. But then, and I swear this is true—I died." It sounded ridiculous even to her and Ilane's eyes were huge. She hurried on. "I met the Black God and he was very kind to me before his daughter healed me and sent me back, because the tauroses had been touched by Uusoae during the Immortals War and Lord Mithros and the Great Goddess wouldn't allow her interference to have any effects they didn't like." She looked at Thayet's shocked face. "Daine said that made sense, and I believe the King knows the story so I hope you do too."

The Queen nodded, tight-lipped. "You died, Kel? From the tauros?"

"I'm afraid so. And was sent back, very much alive again. Peachblossom was mortally hurt as well, hind leg in smithereens, but Daine managed to heal him though he's had to retire as a warhorse. And there's one more thing, because the Hag's healing wasn't, um, very satisfactory and that's why Alanna called the Goddess who did heal me properly, um, everywhere and I promise you I'm fine now. I swear I am."

She made the gods' circle as she spoke and chimes sounded softly with the Goddess's hounds behind. All her listeners started, Shinko paling even further and Thayet looking around in wonder.

"Was that other noise…?"

"The Goddess, yes."

The next few minutes were emotional, Ilane and Shinko hugging her repeatedly with most unYamani expressions despite Kel's protests that she was fine, and while yes, she had been dead for some very short time, she wasn't any more and was thoroughly healed. Over their heads she made a mute appeal to Thayet, watching with a frown and tears in her eyes, but the queen

shrugged and opened her hands eloquently: if Kel would drop such anvils into conversation she must expect to be hammered. Ruefully Kel agreed but after a while managed to ease her mother and Cricket back, feeling with some pleasure a sparking irony as she managed—in practice clothing—to produce a clean handkerchief for them to dab their eyes; Thayet had already used a napkin.

"Well, I can see why you don't want your papa to know, sweeting. He'd have fifty kinds of fit, even with you alive and well in front of him. Was it … was it very bad, dearest?"

Kel wasn't going to start lying at this stage. "Yes. I was pretty much unconscious at the time but the dream memories were vile, and I was in a bad way for a while—frozen inside and very snappy with everyone. But Lord Gainel helped, waking me from bad dreams and sending nice ones—being a child in the Islands, Cricket, full of laughter with you and Yuki, though I couldn't remember about what. Then the Goddess healed me properly and they've stopped." She considered her mother carefully. "I really don't want to say more but if you have to know ask Alanna. I'll tell her it's alright to speak to you. But please don't—details don't matter and it's over." She took a breath and added a truth she'd recognised on her journey south, offering a crooked smile. "It was what you might call a learning experience and I've learned a lot—though there's still one mystery no-one's solved and that's the stormwings."

"Stormwings?"

The voices were in unison and Kel explained the strange business of the tauroses' heads, ending with the familiar litany of Chargy, Bargy, Horny, Toothy, Dimwit, Flatnose, and Pizzle, which she was beginning to think more inspired than she'd realised; it was certainly useful, and all three women's hands leaped to their mouths, as Lalasa's had done at the news of Wyldon dancing. Ilane was the first to recover.

"Kel, sweeting, if it's taught you that kind of resilient self-mockery I almost have to be grateful—you've always been earnest to a fault. But gods, love, I wouldn't have had you learn it this way for the world."

Thayet nodded fierce agreement but had a probing question. "Was it really just the tauroses having been chaos-touched, Keladry? You didn't say the other dead were sent back too."

"No it wasn't," Kel confessed. "As best I understand that was the main reason but the Goddess said they'd seen some future she wouldn't describe where I do something that matters to them and plays in."

"Connected with Irnai's prophecy?"

"What prophecy?" Ilane's voice was sharp as she looked between her queen and her daughter.

"Oops." Thayet shrugged. "Sorry. I forgot Ilane didn't know."

Though dismayed Kel shrugged—it had been bound to come out sooner or later—and told her mother what Irnai had said so surprisingly during her verbal report.

"It's all so inconclusive. Numair says prophecies almost always are."

"Jon hates them." Thayet frowned again. "But it does seem you're going to face something at New Hope."

"Yes, I think so—it's why I've driven hard to make it as impregnable as I can. Mama, I

know it's worrying and you have to tell Papa, but please remember I'm behind the best fortifications between Northwatch and Frasrlund and we're on guard against everything."

"It didn't stop that tauros." Ilane's voice was mild; her eyes weren't.

Kel shrugged again. "True, but I can't stay in my room for the rest of my life. If I'm to die in battle I'll die fighting all the way." Seeing her mother's face she added something she hadn't meant to. "And I have the Black God's promise that all the people I've sent to him myself won't speak against me before his judges. I hope it's a long time away, but if it's tomorrow I'll be at peace. Oh, and Th—Your Majesty, the—"

"I prefer Thayet, Keladry. I've been waiting for you to do that."

"Then it's Kel. Thayet, the Goddess said the children Blayce murdered are specially cared for by the Black God and contented in the Peaceful Realms. The other tauros victims too. I though you might want to have that proclaimed—about the children I mean—though I'd much rather you didn't mention me. It's another sign of how the gods regard necromancy and I don't think Alanna would mind being named as the source. It's her the Goddess told, when I was sleeping after healing."

Thayet nodded sharply. "Yes, that's good. I'll talk to Jon and Alanna. Since we made the proclamation accompanying your report that explained about that vile mage and the killing devices I've heard real anger and disgust about the children. We had a killing device put on show, did you know? So people will be glad to be reassured about that." Her face took on a different look Kel couldn't interpret. "Forgive me, Kel, but you're constantly surprising me these days and I'm not the only one. You're so … well, frankly, unschooled in politics you can condemn yourself out-of-hand when it'd be madness for Jon to take offence, but then come up with something like this— and what you said about Lalasa's classes and training Palace women—that's politically very smart indeed."

"Don't worry about it, Thayet." Ilane's voice was dry. "Just imagine a good diplomat's self-effacement with romantic chivalry and warrior stoicism behind it instead of cold calculation, then throw in an oversize dollop of heroism and being the youngest of nine. Do you wonder the gods are watching as intently as all of us?"

"Not really. That makes sense, Ilane. Very Mindelan sense."

Kel didn't know where to look and glared at her mother wrathfully. "That's … that's …"

"Entirely true, sweeting? You've taken the best of your papa and me and added something all your own. Several somethings, actually. Do you have the slightest idea how formidable a woman you've become?"

Kel's annoyance turned to confusion and the conversation ran down gently, though she was still dismayed by the look on Shinko's face and when the royals had to leave took care to hug her again, promising time soon to talk—not least about Yuki. When maids came to clear the table her mother towed her out to the Queen's Garden where a sheltered bench afforded privacy and clasping her hands painfully made her go through what had happened with the gods again. Kel saw no reason to detail the Hag's grey flesh or the state she'd got herself into believing it mockery, and even with her mother shied from the embarrassing intimacies involved, but did relate what the Black God had said and added that she'd seen his face. Stunned and big-eyed again, her mother once more had to borrow her handkerchief before smiling weakly.

"Oh sweeting, I don't know what to say. What can I say? I'm horrified by what you've been through and so relieved you're alive and don't have any idea what to make of these things

the Black God said. I've never heard of anything like that."

"It doesn't happen often." Kel relayed Quenuresh's comment.

"You talked to that spidren about it?"

"She killed the last tauros, Mama, and got it off me, so she was there when I … came alive again. She was very helpful, cloaking me when I wasn't decent and helping with Peachblossom until Daine got there."

"Then I owe her a debt I can't repay."

"I doubt she sees it like that but I'll tell her, if you like."

"Please do. Perhaps we can make a deal with spidrens at Mindelan or something." Ilane's eyes sharpened. "So poor Peachblossom's not fit for work anymore? I'm sorry—I know how you love that horse, for all his terrible temper. Did you ride Hoshi south?"

"I'll miss him horribly on the battlefield but he's not too bad. He's so smart I've given him the run of New Hope and he does rounds inspecting sentries." That brought the expected laugh. "And no. I didn't ride Hoshi, I have a new horse—Alder. He's in the stables here."

"A warhorse? Where did you get one in the north?"

"Wyldon gave him to me." Kel blushed as her mother's eyebrows rose. "I haven't had a chance to thank him yet, but he and Owen should be here soon. Owen told me he didn't want me to be without a gelding but said something wise too, I thought—that it was what Wyldon can give. He's apologised to me about the probation thing, twice now, but he … well, we both find that sort of conversation difficult, and I think this is his way of making up for doing something he thought was right at the time but now thinks a mistake."

"Maybe, Kel, love—I can see him doing something like that. And I'm relieved you've a good warhorse—the ones he breeds are fine animals—but it's a remarkable gift all the same."

"I think he feels guilty about what happened, Mama. Gods know he's no reason to, but it was … on his watch, I suppose he'd say."

"I understand that—I feel the same and so will your papa if he finds out. Still, I think there's more to it, Kel. It's a father's gift more than a friend's."

"Perhaps." Kel wasn't comfortable with this at all, though oddly she thought she might have been if she were talking to Yuki or Shinko. "He taught me a lot and still does, so his good opinion matters to me more than anyone's except yours and Papa's and Raoul's."

"Mmm, I realised that long ago, sweeting. Mind you, it had to matter given the position you were in." Ilane hesitated. "Did he advise you about petitioning the Council? I wondered—we thought you'd made a very smart move there—Duke Gary told us about the notice you sent and the documents that followed, not long after we got your letter. I think it'll sail through, but did you know Tirrsmont is in town? He was refused accommodation at the Palace, much to his fury, but he's taken rooms at that big inn near the Provost's House and there's talk he's going to make a formal claim for New Hope as well as a complaint about you not being servile enough for his taste."

Kel's eyes went hard. "He can claim and complain all he likes. He was pig-rude and had no authority anyway. Do you know what he wanted from New Hope, apart from owning it? Miners to hack him out silver, even though the mines are closed and he refused the miners shelter

when they had to flee their homes. Vanget, Wyldon, Raoul, Alanna, and Ennor of Frasrlund are all dead set against him getting another inch of land, let alone New Hope, so he can whistle for it." A mark dropped in Kel's mind. "Has Conal been drawn to him?"

"Oh yes, like a moth to flame." Her mother's voice was tight. "Was that what you had words about yesterday?"

"More or less. He told me I wouldn't get away with insulting Tirrsmont. Oh, and that my 'Scanran bastard' was a disgrace." Anxiety assailed her. "What do Anders and Inness think? Or Orie and Adie?"

"Don't worry, love. Anders and Inness were fine, Patricine was interested, Avinar thought it a virtuous thing, as he would, and your sisters seemed to think it just like you to graduate from stray animals to stray children." Ilane smiled, warmth breaking through worry. "Which it is. Only Conal fussed, blethering about reputation, and I'm sorry for that. I don't know where we went wrong with that boy, and though I don't like to say so of any child of mine he's not grown into a nice man. It's no wonder he's unmarried still, though he'll turn thirty next year."

Kel shrugged. "He hasn't changed in all the time I've known him, Mama, so I can't see you or Papa did anything wrong. He was a bully then and still is. Some people are. I can stay away but I won't have him insulting Tobe—he had enough of that sort of thing before I met him."

"Don't you dare stay away, love—if Conal can't be civil he can stay away. He's no pleasure to talk to these days—one complaint after another about how we're going to the dogs. It's rubbish."

"Well, so's Tirrsmont."

"Yes he is, but I can't help remembering how his son tried to kill you and claimed his lance slipped. Take care, Kel, even here. Especially here."

Kel promised but was uncomfortably reminded of Zerhalm's words at the council, thinking ruefully that she had relaxed vigilance. Parting from her mother with promises to come with the children again once Adie and Orie arrived, she walked in the gardens a while, thinking hard, then went to find Numair. He was not long up and tousle-haired, hunched over breakfast, but smiled and offered a seat.

"I hope you don't mind, Kel, but I sent Kitten to take up your offer of playing with the children. She's so chirpy in the mornings and I'm not."

Kel grinned. "That's fine. I can't be with them all the time and I expect Kitten's missing her ma. Actually, she's probably a protection for them and that's what I wanted to ask you about."

"A protection?" His gaze sharpened as she explained her concerns.

"I know it seems unlikely, but I promised Zerhalm and my Mama to do all I can. And one thing I've started to realise about politics is that people do the same things all the time, even if it didn't work before, so I can't help remembering what happened to Lalasa. I can take my chances but Tobe and Irnai can't, so I wondered if you could do magical protections—my windows and door, and I don't know if it's possible but if there's anything that could help locate them if something happens …"

"It may be unlikely, Kel—I can't see who'd do that—but it's good thinking. It's always better to prevent something than have to try fixing it after. I can certainly spell your rooms so only

you and the children can enter without invitation, and if you keep safe a lock of each of the children's hair I could locate them . Mmm. There's also … wait a minute."

He went to his workroom and came back with three slim bracelets set with a dull green stone. "Here. Put the largest one on."

Kel did, Numair muttered words under his breath, and to her surprise the bracelet vanished, though she could still feel it.

"No-one need know it's there, but make sure it's clear of your sleeve when you're going to eat or drink anything—within a few feet of anything poisoned the stone will flash." He grinned without humour at the look on Kel's face. "I made them for us when we visited Carthak. I can put the others on the children and hide them when I do the room. Poison's not likely, maybe, but it's a political weapon, and a coward's, and none of the likely villains are going to want to challenge you openly so it's possible they'd try something like that."

Kel was grateful, poison never having crossed her mind, and once Numair had finished his food they went to her rooms. Kitten was happily making individual stones in the walls light up, flashing colours in complex patterns, with an avid Tobe and Irnai applauding, but after discovering why Numair had come wanted to watch his magic. While he set about spelling windows, chimneys, and outer door Kel gave the bracelets to the children, explaining how they worked, and took clippings of their hair which she put safely away. Returning, she saw wide eyes and squatted.

"It's just being careful, you know—I'm not expecting anything like that, really. But do you remember the man who came to the gate wanting to take our miners? The Lord of Tirrsmont? Well, he's here, still angling to get New Hope for himself, and that's not going to happen so he might be stupid enough to try something else. And six years ago someone who wanted to hurt me kidnapped Lalasa so I want to make sure you're both safe. We'll also get you each a good beltknife so you have something with bite if you need it."

That cheered Tobe up though Irnai looked doubtful. "The god hasn't warned me of anything."

"Good. I hope she would, Irnai, but it doesn't do to count on it. And the gods like us to make an effort, I think."

Irnai nodded, face clearing. "Yes. When the god warned me about the Kinslayer I had to hide, for ages sometimes. And when she told me to go to Rathhausak she said to travel by night and hide during the day."

"That's the sort of thing, yes. This is the same. I don't want you worrying, just being careful. Being with Kitten's good too—she has magic and sharp teeth, and no-one in their right mind would take a chance of hurting her. Now, I'm sorry I was away so long—a meeting dragged on and then I had to see Numair. Have you had breakfast?"

They hadn't, so once Numair had spelled bracelets into invisibility, which pleased both of them, they went to the day kitchen and once they'd eaten set about errands. Kel took them to meet as many senior Palace servants as she knew and could find, including Salma and the duty officers of the Palace Guard, so they knew people who could help them and were themselves known.

After that, deciding the crowds, if they formed, had to be endured, she took them to the Temple District to make offerings to the Goddess and Lord Mithros for their safety while she gave thanks for her healing. Then they headed to an armourer on Palace Way, less expensive than Raven Armoury but used to dealing with pages and with a better stock of weapons for smaller hands; with Alanna's gifts Kel had never needed to buy from him herself but had been with others, and

he'd never been less than gravely polite, seeming not to notice her gender.

There were smiles as they were recognised but the fuss the day before seemed to have got it out of people's systems and Kel was able to smile back with reasonable cheer. She nevertheless found herself newly conscious of vulnerability to a crossbow bolt from some hidden spot and her shoulders itched, but she could hardly put the children in mail or wear it herself on everyday business; she did however make a mental note to get three good buff jerkins that might turn a blade. The armourer was as polite as ever, greyer than she remembered, and dealt with the children well, making them jab with several knives before advising which he thought best-suited. When she asked about jerkins he was able to produce some that had sheets of an astonishingly light metal between tough outer leather and a thin inner layer, with warm linings.

"The metal comes from Carthak, my Lady—a fruit of the Princess's marriage. It won't stop a full blow with a real weapon or a bolt at close range, but with the leather it'll stop most daggers and arrows short of a needlehead. I've the smaller ones because a noble ordered them for his children but decided he'd go for full chainmail without telling me, so I'd be glad to move them, to be frank. And we keep a range in adult female sizes and cuts—they're becoming quite popular with the ladies who do proper weapons training as a safeguard that's lighter than mail."

Kel took them at once with one for herself and after a moment's thought the largest they had, for Numair as a Midwinter gift—even exposed on alures or battlefields he never wore mail, relying on magic, but she thought he might accept one of these and that Daine would be happy. Pleased, she had the children put theirs on, with belts to hang their knives from, and donned her own. When the armourer presented the bill she discovered a generous discount and turned in protest.

"You're robbing yourself, Master Randall. This can hardly cover costs, never mind any profit. I'm happy to pay properly and I should."

He raised eyebrows. "Wonders never cease—a noble wanting to pay more than I ask?" He shook his head. "No, my Lady, I'll not take a penny more. My children are grown but I have a father's care, and I knew about the killing devices and how they sounded when slain, so I rejoiced when I heard you'd killed the necromancer. It's my honour and pleasure to serve you, and the horse boy and seer who helped you."

The cynical voice Kel didn't like told her Master Randall might be making shrewder calculations, about benefits for business of serving the people's present darlings, but she thought him sincere and reluctantly accepted. To salve her conscience she made a more expensive plunge, still at discount, and ordered a complete set of scale-armour barding for Alder in the Carthaki metal—shaffron, crinet, peytral, flanchards, crupper, and protection for reins, omitting only caparisons for which she had no use or taste and weren't an armourer's business anyway. Cost aside, she'd never used barding for Peachblossom or Hoshi because in iron the weight was so great the horse was slowed, unable to rear and soon exhausted, but lighter metal would offer considerable protection for less disadvantage, and for skirmishing should serve well.

They left Alder in the armourer's stables to be measured, with the children's horses for company, tipping the ostler to see to them, and Kel took the children on a whirlwind tour of the main shopping area lower on Palace Way, buying Midwinter gifts and helping Tobe choose things for her parents and sisters, and both children tokens for Alanna, Daine, Numair, and Kitten. It all added up, and their final visit, to the goldsmith to authorise Lalasa's withdrawals and payments to the armourer and shopkeeps sending purchases to the Palace made her feel better, though the sum hardly dented the balance her frugality and Lalasa's tithing had built up. Tobe's eyes widened as he saw the goldsmith's obsequious respect and heard the sums involved, and outside he looked at her with that old man she thought she'd driven away in his eyes.

"I didn't know you were so rich, Ma. Alvik woulda killed for a hundredth of what you

have."

Nonplussed, Kel shrugged weakly. "Would he, Tobe? More fool him. It is a lot, I know, far more than most people have—it's because of what Lalasa gives me from her shop and money I won jousting when those stupid conservatives would insist on challenging me because I was a girl —but there are plenty of people with more, not just nobles. My Papa taught me a lot about how money works, and so did Sir Myles—Alanna's da. You haven't met him yet, but you will. You'll like him, I think—he's fun, though he sometimes drinks too much."

The moment passed, to Kel's relief, but she added money matters to her list for Tobe's education and wondered if it should go on the New Hope school curriculum; Idrius Valestone had been dealing with barter and principles of stock-keeping and accounting, but straight talk about finance would be a good thing all around. Meanwhile, the children's stomachs agreed with her own that they'd earned lunch, and feeling safer with the jerkins, and the reticence of people who smiled as they passed but didn't interrupt, she took them to a stall in the Daymarket that served the best meatrolls and bubbly pies in Corus; and afterwards on a tour of the city walls. It produced meetings with two gate captains and many of the duty watch, and in her mind safety points racked up; when they eventually collected the horses and headed back, weary and satisfied, Kel felt she'd redeemed her promises as far as she could. Any assault was more likely to be aimed at her than the children, and to be verbal or legal rather than physical, but she'd covered all possibilities she could think of and with Numair's help one she hadn't. Not even the gods could ask more.

As Midwinter neared Kel's days fell into a routine. After glaive practice at dawn and breakfasts with Thayet and Cricket, she took the children to eat and spent mornings with them, in lessons or showing them around and introducing them to friends. Tobe ingratiated himself with Onua and Stefan Groomsman and spent afternoons learning horselore, while Irnai, doubtful at first, found she liked an elderly seer Numair took her to see and usually went to the old man for tea; both became thick as thieves with Kitten, to Kel's and Numair's mingled relief and consternation. Kel spent afternoons with the pages, training with the Own, or in the Palace Library, carefully checking legalities of fief-grants and claims for extension; she sought one of Turomot's senior clerks for instruction in the complexities of what happened when military regulations, statute law, and noble privilege clashed. She also had a long morning with Shinko.

Her initial glaive session with the pages, among them a pleased Lachran grown out of all recognition and two girls she recognised from those who'd talked to her after seeing her joust, had been a spectacular success. After showing her live weapon and starting them on a pattern dance that contained all the basic moves she'd asked Sergeant Ezeko to get a cheap training sword and similar axe and run through the most efficient ways in which glaive could defeat swords. Then she'd gathered the pages by eye and tried to make her voice unthreatening but intense.

"And that's just basics. I know the pattern dances seem boring, but there is no substitute in building skill and balance. And you're lucky—you'll have them built into training. I did mine as extras, before dawn every day. I still do most dawns, with Her Majesty and Princess Shinkokami, who is very good, I warn you. Sergeant Ezeko, if you'll trust me, would you try attacking for real for a moment and let me defend?"

She knew Ezeko's style well, and when after a few moments of right-side thrusts and sweeps he suddenly switched left, angling his blade in at her stomach she was ready and perfectly

positioned to bring her glaive down hard. The rippled Yamani steel cut straight through the cheap metal of the training sword, and a twist of her wrists brought the blade to rest on his chest as he hastily stepped back. Politely she picked up the severed blade and handed it to him.

"The Yamanis make good weapons—don't ever think otherwise. Raven Armoury's as good, not better. And the glaive has two ends. Sergeant, could you grab that axe and attack again, assuming you've stuck me with the point in the left shoulder, so I'm losing mobility in that arm, and close, using your superior strength against my weak side?"

Ezeko looked glum but gamely did as asked, bearing down hard with his full weight and strength when she restricted her defence on the left side to simulate the effects of the injury she remembered all too well. Neatly she hooked his legs from under him and as he hit the floor, arms flying out to break his fall, brought the iron-shod butt of her glaive to rest on his forehead. After helping him up she turned back to the pages.

"And that's how Stenmun Kinslayer died, the butt of this glaive breaking his skull right between his eyes. I cut his throat to be sure, but that was belt-and-braces. So remember your glaive has two ends. Hajikoru does. His Fourteen Moonlight Dances with the Naginata is in the Palace Library, in a decent translation, and as good a basic text as I know for any weapon. You'll find the language flowery but don't be fooled—he makes very good sense. Now, pair up and let's see what you can all do."

Thereafter the session was something of a mess because everyone was enthusiastic, none more so than the girls whom Kel was careful not to favour but did give warm smiles and advice about using slow dances to strengthen muscle and improve balance. As their bodies developed they'd need to adjust their stances, especially if they turned out bigger breasted or narrower hipped than she was, but Eda Bell knew all about that. Afterwards Lord Padraig was extremely pleased.

"You're a natural teacher, Lady Knight—solid stuff to start, a demonstration to rivet all, and excellent interventions in the practice pairings." He shook his head. "So many good knights are hopeless teachers it makes this job harder than I'd expected. But I'll welcome you as often as you're free, for glaivework or anything you fancy—tilting, perhaps? I saw you stay seated against Wyldon on Progress, when you were a squire, which I confess I've never managed. And I've heard squires who remember you—Mandash and Vikison Lake in particular—say you're like butter with a staff. What was it Mandash said? 'All smooth and no cowhairs', I think."

Kel laughed. "He was quoting Iden. They came to me for help when they were first years and I was third. It was just stance and grip." She glanced at him sidelong. "Sergeant Ezeko's an excellent fighter, but he doesn't always see basic problems like that."

"Or expects them to work it out for themselves, yes. I've noticed that, Lady Knight."

Taking a chance she put a hand on his arm. "I'd prefer Keladry, my Lord. Or just Kel, though I've not persuaded Wyldon to such levity yet."

His glance was keen and amused. "I wish you luck—he told me you were on first-name terms. And in that case, Keladry, it's Padraig."

They parted with an invitation to Kel and the children to dine on the high table in the pages' hall that evening—an event that gave her the strangest feeling but Tobe especially enjoyed, not only for Padraig's unpatronising conversation about horses but the alacrity with which the pages stood when she entered and obvious excitement at her presence. It was, he told her afterwards, proper given all she'd done for so many people, and after tucking him and Irnai in she retired to bed unable to distinguish embarrassed gratification from gratified embarrassment and almost wishing for the isolated ease of New Hope.

There were interruptions to routine as people arrived. Orie and Adie were first, with husbands and children, and Kel took Tobe and Irnai to a family feast at her parents' townhouse that went better than she'd expected. Conal stayed away, whether by choice or parental command she wasn't sure, and her sisters showed a newly wary respect, as did their husbands, Meronec of Nond and Ortien of Hannalof, Lady Uline's cousin. Meronec made it quietly clear that while his parents had been approached by Tirrsmont he'd seen his father's letter from Lord Ferghal haMinch, as Ortien had seen his uncle's. Vanget's elder brother ruled the haMinchi clan and both brothers-in-law insisted everyone knew whom they believed when it came to defence of the northern border. Half-flattered, half-irritated, and altogether loathing politics Kel thanked them but was better pleased that Tobe and Irnai got on with Lachran, released for the event, and highly amused when her nephew found himself co-opted into the familiar New Hope discipline of older caring for younger. Her sisters and their husbands were surprised, impressed, and relieved, and though Tobe and Irnai lacked the polished manners some thought important and had rougher voices—as well as Tobe his blond Scanran looks, making him stand out among them like a straw against earth—both were painstakingly polite to all adults and so clearly good-hearted that they made better impressions than they knew. Hearing surprised wifely whispers from her sisters Kel knew word would spread, and if she detested the inconsequential social rounds Orie and Adie seemed to live for she knew well what hurt and malice they could sow, and gave silent thanks on Tobe's behalf.

The following day Wyldon and Owen arrived, cutting it finer than intended because the snowstorm that brushed New Hope had been far heavier at Mastiff, making their journey very slow until Bearsford. The cold in the north had deepened sharply, Wyldon said, all thoughts of a mild winter vanquished by continuing heavy snowfall. Kel wasn't sure if she was more relieved at the impediment to the enemy or worried by New Hope's perhaps lengthy isolation, but she had thanks for Alder to give and did so directly, heightening both their colours.

Owen, after greeting her with his usual exuberance, bounced off to find his father, and Wyldon tried to steer conversation away from his generosity to hers in helping Owen, who had, he said, been much calmer and properly determined since visiting her. Waving this away in turn Kel told him about the barding she'd ordered and at his surprise showed him a sample of the Carthaki metal she'd been given by the armourer. They fell into mutually congenial discussion about savings in weight against loss of strength, Wyldon dubious and Kel pointing out that while the metal could be pierced by a determined thrust at close range it would deflect anything short of that and, more importantly, give protection against arrow volleys at distance without slowing a charge; they both knew what kind of havoc those could wreak, not by piercing armour but by injuring mounts or making them stumble and pitch riders off. Wyldon wound up agreeing to see the barding when Kel took Alder for a fitting, and as she helped him tote bags to his rooms, not far from her own, she told him with shared enjoyment and irony about Padraig's invitation and demonstrating her move against Stenmun at Sergeant Ezeko's expense.

She also received a brief letter from Dom that left her more worried than reassured. Besides thanking her for gifts and good wishes and asserting he was doing well he said next to nothing yet managed to suggest that however much better his leg his spirit was unhealed. Duke Baird had had a similar letter and was equally worried but didn't see what could be done; the axe-wound had left Dom's right calf very weak and even standing would be problematic, the leg liable to buckle, while riding an estate would be somewhere between painful and impossible. Distressed, Kel tried to think.

"Can it not be braced?"

"Perhaps, but I've known too many cases where the weight of the brace is a problem in itself, Keladry. Even in strong men it tends to cause such severe cramping in the thigh muscle that help standing isn't worth the price. Chafes nastily, too. A cane is better."

Kel reached into her pocket. "Could you use this new Carthaki metal? It's much lighter."

Baird frowned, weighing it in his hand. "This is the stuff in those jerkins? I see you have one. It is light, isn't it? Is it strong enough?"

Kel explained how she'd learned about it, her barding, and her reasoning about weight. Baird's eyes were intent as he thanked her, promising to see what could be done, and she left in better heart.

The final arrival, on a horse borrowed from Raoul at Steadfast and accompanied by an escort, was Daine, and when Kel learned of it from an exuberant Kitten one morning she also learned the delay and mundane transport had been because the Wildmage was pregnant.

I shall have a brother or sister in May though Mama says she doesn't want to know which. Kitten's mindvoice was a chortle.

"May?" Kel did a quick calculation. "But she was shapeshifting after—is that possible?

Oh yes, but she wouldn't have shifted if she'd known—she says it's given the baby ideas and it keeps shifting in her womb. Wolf-shape, mostly, Mama says, but also bird -forms and once a river-horse. While it is still small it is just uncomfortable but when the baby gets bigger it might be very awkward.

Kel stared, trying and entirely failing to imagine what it might mean to find yourself abruptly pregnant with a wolf-cub or a hundredweight of river-horse. "Is she alright, Kitten?"

Yes, but she is tired and I think she will be very grumpy.

"Well, that happens. How did Numair take the news?"

He said he was beside himself with joy but there is still only one of him. I think he meant he was very happy.

"He did. Will you tell them I'm delighted for them both?"

I will but Mama wants to see you. She said she had interesting news. And Kawit should be back from exploring the Forest today so you must meet her. She is very nice and does the best illusions of anyone.

"She does?"

Yes. Opal dragons are best at illusions and she is very good. Even I could not tell when I met her but she has to try hard to fool me now.

"Oh." Wondering how this opal dragon would fare against a griffin Honesty Gate Kel asked when she should come to see Daine and was told anytime was good, so she left Kitten telling Tobe and Irnai about the animal forms her Mama liked best, interspersed with educational remarks, and went to find her friend. Far from being obviously tired Daine seemed full of energy, sheepishly accepted congratulations, enquired earnestly after Kel's wellbeing, declaring herself fair relieved at the further healing from the Goddess, and complained at length that she hadn't intended to get pregnant, tearfully adding how sorry she was that she wouldn't be able to fly over Scanran territory when at any moment she might have to turn her lower half into a wolf or a river-horse. Kel hadn't quite extrapolated that Tortallan intelligence would be severely crimped but hid dismay, knowing how much time and energy Daine had already sacrificed for her adopted

country, and to Numair's amusement produced yet another clean handkerchief.

"It will be alright, magelet. You can magic some hawks and send them to meet the owls that gather information from the smaller birds."

Never having understood how the information-gathering worked Kel was fascinated, but Daine just scowled.

"And what do the poor hawks do with themselves afterwards when just being hawks isn't enough any more?"

"Whatever they want, magelet. Their possibilities will be greater."

"Which the People don't always enjoy, and you know it. Think of poor Brokefang. I gave him awful headaches."

"And saved his pack and Dunlath as a hunting-ground."

"Mmph."

Wisely, Numair changed tack. "Tell Kel about Barzha and Hebakh."

Daine brightened. "That's right, Kel—I've solved your stormwing mystery. When Lord Wyldon told me about it he described the stormwings you said talked to you after Haven—a Yamani-looking female and big-nosed male? That rang a bell because there were two like that in the Stone Tree Nation, Rikash's flock, and I know their queen, Barzha Razorwing, and her consort Hebakh from Carthak and the Immortals War, so I looked them up. It was the Stone Tree Nation who followed you to Rathhausak and back, and they were protecting you on behalf of the children, as you thought—they were very impressed with you all round, actually, though they say you're mean about letting them have enemy dead to play with."

"And the tauros heads?"

"That was them too. They sensed the divine presences when you were first healed, Barzha said, as well as the deaths of many immortals and the mage and came to see what had happened. She wouldn't tell me why they'd cleaned and returned the skulls but she will tell you, if you want. They're roosting in the Royal Forest for the winter."

"Oh." Kel frowned, not wanting in the least to meet stormwings but knowing she'd have to. "Did she say why they've not been letting themselves be seen? They never hid before."

"No, but I bet she knows about Irnai's prophecy and is being very careful about the Greenwoods valley."

"How would stormwings know about that? Not many people do, and it hasn't leaked."

Daine shrugged and Numair steepled fingers. "I can't be certain, Kel, but I've read that if a true prophecy involves any immortal they will be aware when Shakith speaks through her Chosen. I've no idea if Barzha heard it herself or was told about it by a stormwing who did, though, or even if all stormwings heard it. You could ask her."

Kel steeled herself. "Alright. When?"

Daine shrugged again. "Now, if you and the children are free—we should take them both. And I'd rather deal with stormwing stink before lunch than after."

That was true so Kel reluctantly collected the children, Kitten bouncing and asking to come, made sure they were warmly dressed, and grabbed a pot of strong-smelling unguent that was useful when a summer battlefield had to be cleared. When they came to the paddocks which backed onto the Forest Daine warned the watchmen what would be happening while Kel dabbed the children's noses and her own with unguent before offering it to Numair, who hadn't known the trick and accepted gratefully. Daine also accepted, when she returned, but Kitten sniffed warily, sneezed, and indignantly refused, saying she'd rather smell stormwings than hurt her nose.

"Is this a common thing, Kel?" Numair's laughter was tempered by curiosity. "It's made from a southern plant used in very small quantities in perfumery but I don't recall seeing soldiers using it like this before."

"I learned the trick in the Own, from one of the sergeants when we had to clear bodies after an earthquake, and I've made sure we have some at New Hope. Latrine crews use it when the weather's warmer."

"I bet they do."

Climbing the paddock rails they went across to the eaves to a point Daine chose, looking at available branches, and she closed her eyes.

"They're coming."

She tipped her face skyward and Kel heard wingbeats, gathering the children with an arm round each. There were half-a-dozen, steel wings glinting in the winter light, including the Yamani-looking female who cackled as she saw Kel. The sound was horribly familiar, but as the immortals perched and the backdraft brought a stench of ordure and rot Kel realised the glass-crowned queen and fidgety male beside her were very different propositions. They landed lower than the others and carried themselves with conscious authority, the queen's face as regal as her gaze was piercing. Deciding proactivity was called for Kel didn't wait for introductions but gave a bow, speaking as she straightened and put her arms once more around the children's shoulders.

"Your Majesty, I am Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, commanding at New Hope. These are Tobeis of Mindelan and Irnai of Rathhausak. The Godborn tells me you and your flock were responsible for guarding our return from Rathhausak, and for cleaning the tauros heads. May I offer you thanks for your aid and gift, but also ask why you gave it? It has caused much mortal confusion."

Barzha arched her eyebrows. "You are very direct, Protector of the Small, and unusually polite for a mortal. You also reek of godwork."

Biting back a retort about reeks Kel nodded. "So Quenuresh informed me. It is beyond my control but I am sorry if it troubles you."

Beside Barzha, Hebakh bated, sidling on the branch, but the queen took her gaze from Kel only to inspect the children. "It does not, but I have never met a mortal save perhaps Ozorne on whom so much of the timeway rests. The Godborn says you understand we treasure the young, and we too despise necromancy. The tauros skulls were tributes to your courage in saving so many from such a mage."

Hebakh sidled again, steel claws gouging wood. "If you're going to tell her at all, tell her properly."

Barzha still gazed at Kel. "The form of the tribute goes back to an incident of the

Godwars. The skulls of seven godslain dragons were mounted on a new way to Lord Mithros's

hall."

Kel didn't dare look at Kitten but heard an indignant whistle. Barzha took no notice but obviously understood.

"The dragons objected then too, filling the skulls with dragonfire so hot even a god who passes will be scorched to the bone. They are there still, and no god has taken that path in all the centuries since. We were struck by the number of tauroses, by nature solitary immortals, and by the Black God sending you back—the first mortal to whom he has done that in a very long time. You placed the skulls on your roadway. Draw your own conclusions, Protector."

One part of Kel's brain was confused, the rest spinning furiously. "The Black God said the tauroses were touched by Uusoae before her banishment. Lord Mithros and the Goddess would not permit her interference, and Quenuresh says disorder acted against their solitary natures. Will you tell me your conclusions, Your Majesty?"

Barzha shrugged. "The timeway completes a spiral. Much that is old comes round again. None can do more than play the odds—even gods."

"Do you know of Shakith's prophecy through Irnai, after Samradh?"

"All stormwings heard it as it was made." Barzha nodded to Irnai, as relaxed under Kel's arm as Tobe was tense.

"Is that why you have stayed away from the Greenwoods valley? And beheaded the tauroses at night, not soiling the bodies?"

"Of course. Such a prophecy is not to be trifled with. Shakith did not mean we would play with the fruits only of a skirmish."

Kel's gaze bored into the queen's. "How do you know? The prophecy doesn't say anything about that."

"True but irrelevant. The gods may like their stupid jokes but the timeway no more plays with irony than Uusoae. Shakith spoke from the heart of light. It will be no skirmish, Protector."

Kel knew it for truth and on instinct made a decision she'd been pondering since the skulls reappeared. "Will you hear an offer, then?" Barzha inclined her head. "Come openly to the Greenwoods. No mortal or immortal under treaty will offer harm, and while I live you will play with nothing dead there, nor slay anything yourselves, without my let. If there is anything practical you need of mortal or immortal, you will ask and within our reason and capacity we will answer."

Kel was aware of Numair's mouth opening and closing like a fish's but her attention was on the queen, whom she knew she'd surprised.

"That is … an interesting offer, Protector. Would you add us to your immortal menagerie, like Ozorne?"

Kel shrugged, puzzled. "I don't know about Ozorne's menagerie but I meant nothing like that. Will you call Dunlath a menagerie? Or tell Quenuresh I keep her as a pet? We deal fairly with one another and I strive to protect all my people, of whatever shape, however I may as this timeway completes its spiral. Aren't you doing the same?"

Hebakh turned a malicious grin on his mate. "She has you there."

Barzha again ignored him. "Of course I am. Our numbers are yet low from our losses in

the Immortals War."

Kel made a leap. "Then come to the Greenwoods. Know your young are safe there, that in need we will shelter and aid them. And if there is aught we can do to help in their bearing or delivery, we will. Forgive me, but I can't help thinking a pair of hands might sometimes be of use."

There were wild cackles and Barzha bated, making Hebakh hop sideways. Her voice was

iron.

"And will a mortal healer or midwife tolerate our smell, Protector?"

"You wash first, as best you can, and we'll stick pegs on our noses if we have to, but if there's a stormwing in labour or a youngling we can help, we will, by my word, who has seen the Black God's face."

Kel didn't know where the last words came from but they seemed right and Barzha's face went very still.

"I will think on it, Protector. When you return to New Hope, we will speak again. Now we must go."

She and Hebakh leaped from their branch, others following. The downdraft again drove stench and even Kitten wrinkled her snout; mortals found themselves with watering eyes and burning noses despite the unguent, and Kel blindly produced another clean handkerchief, giving Irnai and Tobe first use. They had just recovered when Kitten spun round with a squawk followed by a trill at once annoyed and happy. Kel stared but there was nothing to see—until air rippled to disclose a scaly, multicoloured creature eighteen foot long, standing twenty feet behind them with what Kel would swear was a smile on its enormous face.

I nearly had you, Skysong. Greetings, Godborn and Numair. The mind voice was unlike Kitten's, though what the equivalents of depth and timbre might be Kel had no idea, let alone of pleased good humour. Daine and Numair, who'd jumped at the creature's appearance, nodded.

"Hello, Kawit."

Kitten flicked her tail. I was distracted by the stormwings. There was a punch to the statement that told Kel everyone heard it.

Even so you should keep alert, though I grant they were being quite interesting. I did not know there is a new skullroad. That news will stir the Dragonlands. The great head swung to look at Kel and the children, who realised the dragon had no wings. Will you introduce your friends?

Of course. Kitten drew herself up, tail neatly over one arm, and her mindvoice became proudly correct. Kawit, these are Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small, and Tobeis and Irnai. Kel, this is Kawit Pearlscale, of whom I have told you.

Huge eyes considered them, not infinite like the gods' but with the depth of Quenuresh's and Tkaa's, only more so, and Kel knew Kawit was very old indeed. Shaking free from shock she bowed.

"Greetings, ah, Mistress Pearlscale. It is our honour to meet you. Skysong has told us how much you have helped her."

Kawit seemed amused. I have not been Mistress Pearlscale in many an age, if ever. Kawit is name enough in these realms. Greetings, and to Tobeis and Irnai. I see horse magic and

Shakith's gift in them, and much godwork in you, Protector of the Small. May I ask where that title came from? And what gods you have been meeting? I heard you say you had seen the Black God's face, which he does not show.

Kel was unsure of Kawit's status but saw Numair nod and knew there wasn't much point trying to conceal things from immortals. She squared her shoulders. "The name was bestowed by the elemental of the Chamber of the Ordeal. The rest's a long story, Kawit, so perhaps we might go indoors if there's somewhere that suits?"

Indeed. I have been granted use of a stableblock. It will be cold but I can warm it. Her head swung. Yes you may, Skysong. Abandoning dignity Kitten scrambled up to Kawit's back, and perched triumphantly where neck joined torso, trilling pleasure. She loves to ride there. Would Tobeis and Irnai also like to ride?

To Kel's surprise Irnai accepted immediately, climbing up with a boost from Numair. Tobe was less keen but wouldn't be outdone and with Kel's help settled behind Irnai. The dragon's scent was musky dustiness, making Kel think of rock in the desert. As Kawit set off, spine swaying and making Tobe clutch at Irnai, Kel realised ostlers and other servants were gawking along the fence. Automatically she straightened, Yamani mask sliding into place, but realised wild rumours would soon be titillating those with a taste for them. There was nothing to do, and she wondered what else this strange Midwinter might hold besides the promised visit of far larger dragon. Numair came up beside her.

"I was surprised by your offer to Barzha, Kel—we've no stormwing treaties, because they don't attack the living. But things are changing, plainly, and the more I think about it the better it seems. It gives you an entirely legitimate edge with that wretched prophecy—my warmest congratulations for that—but this skullroad thing gives me the fidgets. I've never seen or heard anything so detailed about the Godwars."

"Do you know about this timeway?"

"Not really, but seers say things like that. I think it's because there's only one past and present but thousands of possible futures, likely and wildly improbable—but some improbable ones do come to pass, and the timeway is where the futures that will be… I was going to say join but it's more like collapse together, I believe. Akker, Irnai's new friend, says he's always thought of it like becks joining into streams and rivers until at the sea there's only water. But as he tells it, until the last minute all the rivers are moving about and might split off again."

He grinned at Kel, whose head was aching as she tried to follow.

"I told you prophecies hurt to think about. In any case, I was going to say I think I'd better come and see this skullroad myself."

"Of course, but you've seen the road, Numair—you built it! It's just seven tauros skulls on the wall at the top."

"Even so."

Kel wished the tauroses weren't attracting so much attention. Seeing them dead as a comfort to victims was one thing, having them echo something that had involved gods and dragons at war quite another. But her glumness was offset by a sense that with Queen Barzha she'd done something that mattered, placed another weight on her side of whatever scale it was that counted, and for now there was the radiant look on Tobe's face as he realised he was riding a dragon.


	12. Chapter 10

Worship

Chapter Ten — Worship

17 December

The Midwinter session of the King's Council and the Queen's Ball were both on the first day of festivities, and less than an hour after the Council started a messenger came to summon Kel and the children. They'd collected their finery from Lalasa the morning before, and other outfits—a working Mindelan tunic for Tobe, with black breeches, and a velvet dress for Irnai. Lalasa had done simple but striking embroidery on the jerkins so they looked less like protective garments, and even for this they wore them. She'd also trimmed hair and recommended a cobbler where Kel bought both children sturdy boots. Giving them a once over she nodded and they followed the messenger down the corridor.

Kel had not been amused two days earlier to be summoned by His Grace of Naxen and told the children would be required.

"Why in Tortall are they needed, Your Grace?"

The Duke's eyebrows went up. "The Council are interested in them."

"Interested? Or merely curious?"

He smiled. "More the latter, I confess."

"Not good enough, Your Grace. They are children, not toys."

The smile faded. "They have seen a great deal of concern to us, Lady Knight. As you mentioned in your report. The Council's interest is not altogether idle."

Kel knew she wouldn't win this argument though reason and propriety as well as kindness were on her side, and changed tack.

"Can you tell me who will be present, Your Grace? I know the formal composition, of course, but not who is here. I am aware Lady Alanna holds the proxies of Lords Raoul and Ennor."

"Mmm, yes. Cavall holds Vanget's, Padraig holds Ferghal's, Numair holds Harailt's, and the Wildmage holds Dunlath's—Lady Maura was granted membership when she came of age last year, because of the treaty there." Kel hadn't known that and another reason for the grasping interest in New Hope clicked into place. "Baird's here, of course, and Imrah, so besides myself, Myles, and Turomot—and your father, of course—there'll be Blue Harbour, Disart, Haryse, Macayhill, Nond, Runnerspring, Stone Mountain, and Torhelm."

The last three names leapt at Kel and her Yamani mask stilled her face. "Runnerspring, Stone Mountain, and Torhelm are all coming?"

"Yes, of course." Gareth looked at her uneasily. "Torhelm always attends and the others are wealthy fiefs, you know—before we come to your business there're issues concerning port duties and the like they have considerable interest in." He tried a smile. "Actually, I'm rather hoping that'll go more quickly than it might because everyone will want to get to the main event."

Kel didn't smile. "Be that as it may, Your Grace, you should be aware I have met my Lords of Runnerspring and Stone Mountain once each, and both were foul-mouthed in the extreme. For myself I might tolerate it. Before my son and Irnai I will not."

He stared. "Oh come, Lady Knight, I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Lord Burchard, whom I had never previously met, called me a bitch, a trollop, and a jumped-up merchant slut. He implied I was a murderer. It is true he had just learned of his son's death in the Chamber, but I hear he continues unbalanced. Can you say otherwise?"

Gareth looked shocked. "Well … no, I suppose not."

"Lord Carolan accosted me after a tilt during the Grand Progress, in company of his son and Sir Guisant of Torhelm, whose father I have never met. Sir Guisant told me I should be raped to death and thrown on the nearest midden. Sir Garvey and Lord Carolan laughed loudly, called me an upstart whore, and spat."

"Mithros!" Gareth was clearly appalled but Kel wasn't impressed that the characters of those men came as news. "I knew they dislike the idea of female knights, of course, but I'd no idea they behaved like that." Doubt came into his eyes. "I've never heard them speak so."

Kel's voice was cold. "If you want corroboration of my word, Your Grace, I suggest you ask women. You might start with Alanna and the pages in training—I spoke to Fiannola of Linshart a few days ago about a verbal assault she suffered from Sir Garvey. He did not learn language and manners from his mother."

"Well, well. They are responsible for their own conduct, Lady Knight. I cannot stop

them."

"Then I suggest you speak to His Majesty. I tell you that if they offer me insult, or either child whose presence you require, I will silence them however necessary and sort the rest out on the field of honour."

"Lady Knight! You cannot challenge a member of the Council!"

Kel did not know it but her face went a dangerous white though her mask never wavered. "But they can offer insult at will? Your Grace, if one of them said such things to your daughter, in your hearing, would you let it pass because it was during a Council session?" She might as well ask him if he were a poltroon. "No? Then explain why I must do so." There was silence. "Very well. Now, is there anything else?"

He shuffled papers. "Ah, yes, actually. Properly, your petition about New Hope should be heard at Imbolc, but Tirrsmont is here and there are those who want the matter heard while you can both speak to it."

"Those being the three lords we have just discussed?"

"Not only them, but yes, Runnerspring pushed for it."

"And will His Majesty agree?"

"He may. There is a certain logic. Should it come to a vote do you know who would definitely support you?"

Kel had of necessity done this maths. "Alanna and both proxies, Wyldon, Daine, and

Numair with theirs, Baird, and Padraig. I have not discussed Lord Ferghal's proxy with him but he doesn't care for Tirrsmont's record defending land he already holds. Neither does Nond."

He looked surprised but she wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't expected her to be able to answer or hadn't known her northern support was so strong. Her confidence in him fell further.

"Huh. Then you have a majority. You have my support also. Macayhill might vote with Runnerspring, Stone Mountain, and Torhelm, but I doubt Blue Harbour, Disart, or Haryse would." He fiddled with papers again. "It is a curious petition, Lady Knight. The materials submitted clearly support your claim and I imagine that would pass as easily. Why not claim land and people alike and have done?"

Kel's anger faded into weariness. "I defend them, Your Grace, because they deserve defending and it is my duty. I don't want to own them and I don't want Tirrsmont or any other mercenary incompetent doing so either, especially while war threatens. We'll have time enough to decide something as important as a new fief when Maggur's dead."

"Hmm. Your appointment may be the best solution all the same." "Not for anyone who actually lives there, Your Grace."

She'd left it at that and he had taken a deep breath. "There is also the matter of the Chamber of the Ordeal. The Council is aware of its, ah, role in sending you to Rathhausak. There'll be questions."

Kel shrugged. "So long as they are civil, Your Grace. The elemental does as it will. None can change that."

He frowned. "True. But it's all very irregular."

"So is necromancy."

"Also true. Still, the Council has been … exercised, shall we say? His Majesty also. And as you point out, it matters to Stone Mountain."

Kel knew it, and with considerable reluctance had spent the evening before the Council telling the children about members they hadn't met and giving descriptions of Burchard of Stone Mountain and Carolan of Runnerspring. Now, as she and the children reached the doors of the Council chamber and saw them thrown back, she was braced against the need to defend the children.

She was aware of Lord Burchard at once, pale faced and still, seated on the left of the open oblong of tables. He was flanked by Runnerspring and Torhelm, Macayhill beyond them and a space at the nearer end of that side. On the opposite table were Padraig, Wyldon, Lord Imrah, Nond, Daine, Numair, and Sir Myles. On the longer side away from her were King Jonathan and Thayet with Roald and Shinko, flanked on one side by Dukes Baird and Turomot, and on the other by Duke Gareth and Alanna, who rolled her eyes; in front of Kel was a wide gap, Blue Harbour and Disart on the left and her father smiling warmly at her next to Haryse on the right. There was a chair for her but nothing else and she reined in temper as she and the children bowed.

Jonathan smiled greeting. "Welcome, Lady Knight Commander. Please be seated."

"Thank you, sire. Where should Tobeis and Irnai sit?"

Torhelm, who looked like his son and had the same malice in his eyes, sat up from his

slouch. "Children stand in the presence of their elders, and commoners in the presence of nobles."

She kept her voice even despite his insulting omission of any address. "Perhaps so, my Lord, but my son is not a commoner while Irnai is here because she is Chosen of Shakith. And both are here at the Council's request for what may be a long meeting."

Torhelm sneered as she insisted on Tobe's status and Thayet's voice was sharp. "Of course, Lady Keladry—it was thoughtless of us. Your objections are uncalled for, my Lord." She pulled a hanging cord and a side-door swung silently open to admit a palace steward.

"Your Majesty?"

"Bring stools for the children please, Erran."

"At once, Your Majesty."

It was only a few breaths before he returned and Kel wondered if it had been a test, sounding her response to indirect insult. Unthinking unkindness to the unimportant and stools the servants used themselves during their long waits seemed as likely. With the children seated she sat herself and the King invited her to give her account, voice dry.

"Begin, if you would, with the vision given you by the Chamber of the Ordeal. Despite my own description concerns have been expressed."

Kel bet they had and the spasm that twisted Lord Burchard's face told her by whom; but he said nothing while she narrated as clearly as she could her vision and recurrent dreams, then Rathhausak. She omitted the order she'd disobeyed, seeing approval in Wyldon's eyes, and the smugglers—producing the first interruption, from Blue Harbour.

"How'd you get across the Vassa?"

Kel didn't think The Whisper Man would care to be invoked, even here, but it went against the grain to lie. "Going north we obtained the use of boats, my Lord. Coming south, the army controlled the crossing."

"Use of boats, eh?" His look was shrewd. "Very well. Go on."

She did, but there were further questions from Imrah and Haryse, both experienced warriors, about the parties of Scanran soldiers they'd encountered, and how they'd been dealt with.

Haryse looked grimly approving. "Hard when it's like that. You did well to deal with the larger group. Not sure I understand about the horses, though—calling them, yes, but asking them to wait for you?"

"Tobeis has horse magic, my Lord."

"So's my chief ostler, but he couldn't do that."

"Tobe?"

He leaned forward to address Haryse properly, face determined. "I didn't know they'd wait, my Lord, and if something scared them they'd have run off. But I asked and they agreed. They were hungry and the river meadows had good grass."

"Huh. No offence, but is the lad really that strong, Wildmage?"

"It's hard to say how strong he may become, but he's stronger than Stefan Groomsman

now."

Haryse whistled. "Is he indeed? You've a real talent, then, young Tobeis. Useful. Go on, Lady Knight."

Kel did, though the illusion and griffin-band generated questions and a digression into her standing order that they be worn by all at New Hope. The swift despatch of three killing devices also stirred questions, and for the first time Lord Carolan spoke.

"You expect us to believe you killed three of those things in as many minutes?"

"I shot one in its dome, my Lord, and the dog Shepherd snapped the shaft." Did he understand why that mattered? "The broken end fell into the dome and the trapped spirit escaped through the hole. Fanche Miller and I shot another, and its own blades sheared the shafts. Sergeant Domitan's squad immobilised the third with metal-cored ropes and he opened its dome with an axe."

"Two women and a dog killed two devices? It's absurd."

Kel shrugged but Wyldon's voice was crisp. "As you never faced one, Runnerspring, you're hardly in a position to judge. Tell me, Lady Knight, how many devices have you personally slain? Besides them all, I mean."

Kel enjoyed the look on Lord Carolan's face enough to make the embarrassment seem worth it. "Personally? Five."

"Five?" Padraig's surprise was evident.

"One at Forgotten Well last year, two at Haven in the spring—Master Numair knocked one down with a ton of logs first—and two at Rathhausak." She remembered the stumbling gait and confusion and frowned. "One of those was odd—slow and awkward."

Irnai's voice was dreamy; her eyes were not. "It was a girl called Frenna. She was simple and halt but the Kinslayer took her anyway. It was Ostara day. She went to gather flowers and was gathered herself."

There was an ugly little silence before the King spoke gently. "I am sorry to ask, Irnai, but tell us how you came to be at Rathhausak."

The girl's words were the same as during Kel's first report—the goddess told her to hide and run, guided her, and told her about the Protector of the Small. Lord Burchard had been fidgeting and at that name slapped the table, eyes glittering.

"The goddess said, the goddess did—anyone can say such things. And that idiot title could come from anywhere. You expect us to believe this rot, Mindelan?"

I am a lake. "I first heard the title from the elemental of the Chamber, my Lord. And Irnai is chosen of Shakith."

"I expect you to believe me, my Lord." The King's voice was cold. "And my Lord of Cavall, His Grace of Queenscove, General Vanget, and Master Harailt, as well as Lady Keladry. We all heard Shakith speak."

Beside Burchard, Torhelm's face took on a cunning look. "You heard something, sire. Who can say it is a god when only a girl speaks, and a foreigner at that? No-one heard all these

other instructions."

"It was Shakith." Baird's voice admitted no doubt. "I once heard Isner of Pearlmouth prophesy in that same voice. And Irnai lit up as Shakith spoke through her. Her hair stood out. There was no mistaking it. If we know she has spoken through her once, why doubt the rest?"

"She glowed when she dedicated Shakith's shrine at New Hope. The same voice sounded behind the chimes. Shinko and I can attest it, with many others." Roald looked at Kel.

"Hawks in the distance."

"Yes, that's it." Baird nodded at once. "Someone else described it like that too, I think."

"Many people have." Numair's face was expressionless. "Shakith's voice is consistently described in all countries as like a hawk or eagle screaming, which is what I heard. And all the sounds of the great gods' voices seem at a distance behind and within their speech."

"Da says it's because mortals couldn't bear them otherwise." Daine's eyes were mischievous, irritation beneath. "There's no doubt. The stormwings heard the prophecy and Kawit sees Shakith's Gift in Irnai."

Torhelm laughed derisively. "The testimony of animals! Worthless!"

"And am I such a worthless animal, my Lord?" The King's voice was deadly soft.

"I didn't mean that, sire."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Stormwings, some foreign dragon no-one can see half the time. They add nothing."

Numair sighed. "You are talking of beings with millennia of experience, who have travelled and dwelt beyond the mortal realms and met the gods. Calling them animals is silly— they're immortals."

"This Scanran tr—isn't.'

He'd bitten off the epithet but Kel was on her feet. "Lord of Torhelm, you stand against your King, your future king and queen, and six others here besides myself who heard Shakith's prophecy or her voice at the dedications. Within the Court are another dozen at least who heard and saw. The Godborn tells you every stormwing heard the prophecy and a dragon sees Shakith's gift in Irnai. So does the spidren-mage Quenuresh. And though you swallowed obscenity directed at a child your tone insults one who has suffered and done more to save Tortallans than any of us can imagine. If you continue in this manner I shall remove my son and charge to fitter surroundings. Need I do so?"

Torhelm's face bulged and the look in Lord Burchard's eyes was poisonous, but the King spoke first.

"You need not, Lady Keladry. The subject of Shakith is closed, and we thank her for preserving Irnai, to our great benefit. Please sit and continue from your swift destruction of the three killing devices."

The atmosphere crackled but Kel complied, and the help they'd had from villagers in the desperate night attack gripped the genuine interest of the majority. She simply said she'd killed Stenmun and Blayce, omitting all detail save burning the workshop, and compressed their

exhausting, nerve-racking return into a sentence. Then it was building New Hope with immortals' assistance, and when Quenuresh came into it questioning became widespread. Only Lord Burchard and his allies were silent, full of disdain, and those who'd met the huge spidren were drawn in by those who hadn't. To Kel it was old ground, and she knew only experience of talking to Quenuresh would build trust; what did interest her was that Macayhill was listening intently and making notes. When the questions finally paused he leaned forward.

"So at heart, Lady Knight, you trust these spidrens."

"I trust Quenuresh, and have no reason not to extend trust to her kin. But as I said, she is ancient among her kind and a mage—she admits she is unusual, and warned the observer sent by His Imperial Majesty it might be impossible to make peace with younger spidrens."

"Yes, I spoke with Master Takemahou before he left." Kel was surprised by his correct pronunciation and her concentration sharpened. "But you think if communication can be established, and a treaty agreed, it will be kept?"

"Without knowing the spidrens in question I cannot say, my Lord. Would you trust an unspecified mortal to keep his or her word? But I believe Quenuresh and her kin will keep the treaty, and have already observed it in full." Kel wanted to avoid the whole business of the tauros attack. She knew the truth had not been given the Council, but at least five people present knew and she imagined Roald had been told something; in any case she couldn't omit Quenuresh's loyalty. "You know that in September we lost some farmers to a tauros attack? Quenuresh came at a run and killed the last—I heard her break its neck. She gave critical assistance afterwards, sensing the whereabouts of the survivor and helping save an injured warhorse until the Wildmage arrived."

"Helped how?"

"It was down with a broken leg. She lifted its forequarters in webbing so it could drink."

"Remarkable." Suddenly he smiled, making his narrow face much pleasanter, and she saw Lord Burchard scowl. "You give me hope, Lady Knight. We've had grave problems with spidrens at Macayhill."

Kel spoke carefully. "New Hope is of course under military authority but with permission from His Majesty or General Vanget you would be welcome to consult Quenuresh. She gave Takemahou-sensei as much help as she could, and I believe would do the same for you if you ask."

He thanked her sincerely, giving her hope in turn, and Sir Myles owlishly asked Tobe and Irnai how they liked Quenuresh.

"She saved Peachblossom, my Lord, so I owe her big. Liking's neither here nor there." Kel managed to still her smile, but Sir Myles didn't. "You consider yourself honour bound to her, then?"

Tobe shrugged. "We all are, by treaty. But I love Peachblossom so I am especially, I reckon."

"And you, Irnai? Has the god said anything about Quenuresh?"

"She showed me futures with her helping us and told me not to be afraid of her, so I am

not."

"Helping how?"

"As she has already done, with webs and climbing."

Sir Myles looked at Kel, eyebrows asking the question. She felt reluctant to discuss New Hope's defences but something was required.

"We have spidren -web nets stored on our alures, Sir Myles, to cast down as needed. And we discover old webbing is perfect for sealing shutters against winter winds."

"Aid both military and domestic, then."

"Yes. One of her kin also assisted in exploring the cave system. A spidren can climb where we cannot."

The King came in briskly. "So all in all, Lady Keladry, you report that the treaty is working well, and has stood up in the face of Scanran and immortal attack. That is very good news and we thank you for undertaking the experiment. There remains a question about what Quenuresh might do if other spidrens enter the Greenwoods valley, but that must wait on the event. Now, other matters." He turned to Lord Burchard. "My Lord of Stone Mountain, you have repeatedly expressed concern about the elemental of the Chamber. I share your unease that it has behaved unusually, but it is plain it contributed significantly to killing the necromancer, for which all must be grateful, and I cannot see there is anything we can do whatever we feel. It does as it does and no man may command it. It was on this account you demanded we hear Lady Keladry and Irnai in person. Are you satisfied?"

"Why?" Burchard was staring at Kel and for the first time she saw grief as well as hate in his eyes. "Why choose you, and kill my son?"

She spoke as gently as she could. "I do not know, my Lord." "But you have spoken with it, you conspire with it—"

"I do not. It chose me and filled my head with a vision of the Nothing Man's horror—a score of children dead in a pile. It has said it expressed the outrage of the gods. What conspiracy can you mean?"

"It killed my son! And sent you of all people, who overset custom—" Kel cut off his rant before it could get going, trying to keep calm.

"My Lord! Though Joren hated and sought to injure me I did not wish his death and have wondered often and long what happened in his Ordeal. I know you believe no woman should seek knighthood but the elemental has never shared that opinion—a dozen people here have Lady Knights among their forebears. And I too am disturbed by its behaviour—it is my life it has affected." She took a breath. "Do you wish me to ask it why it killed Joren? I cannot promise it will answer, but I can promise to enter the Chamber a third time and ask."

"To ask it …"

"Yes, ask it. It is a being of great age and intelligence—you have yourself spoken to it once, if not in words. By my experience, it would not seek to test you again. Shall I ask it? Will you accompany me?"

"You are serious, Lady Keladry?" She couldn't read the King's face. "You would enter

the Chamber again to question the elemental?

"I am, sire. It works for us. Why should it seek our harm?"

"Indeed. Well, Lord Burchard? I will second Lady Keladry's offer, for I have thought for some while that I must myself speak with the elemental, if I can. Given your loss, it is only right that you join us."

"When?" Burchard's voice was a whisper, his eyes almost blank.

"This year's Ordeals begin in three nights. Should it be before that, or after they are finished?"

The question was open but Kel's answer was instinctive. "Before, sire." The King looked enquiry and her reason scrambled to catch up. "If there is anything of concern we should know before committing others to Ordeals. I was the last squire to face it, last Midwinter, and to speak to it, at Imbolc. I … I feel we should not delay."

"Numair? You have tried to speak to it since."

"And was told to take myself off as it had no business with me. I have no opinion, sire, but I'd trust Lady Keladry's instincts. From your account of it speaking through Irnai it recognised you and Kel by name, but no-one else, and she has had more dealings with it than anyone."

"Will I be safe?" Burchard's voice was hoarse.

Numair shrugged. "I do not control the elemental, Lord Burchard—no-one does or can. But while it has killed and injured squires other than your son there is no record it has ever harmed anyone not undergoing their Ordeal of Knighthood. I don't see why it should begin now."

The King nodded. "Very well, then—tomorrow afternoon. Lady Keladry, please attend me for lunch beforehand. Lord Burchard, meet us in the Chapel of the Ordeal at the first afternoon-bell, if you will. So that is settled. Now, other matters concerning New Hope. Turomot?"

The Lord Magistrate inclined his head. "Sire. Lady Knight Keladry, are you aware a complaint has been filed against you by the Lord of Tirrsmont, alleging that you wrongfully denied him access to land he claims and offered insult?"

Kel's mind became very cold and clear. "I was not, Your Grace, but I am aware of the incident to which I imagine Tirrsmont refers."

"Mmm. The complaint is irregular—it was presented only yesterday, and lacks supporting documentation."

"If I may, Your Grace?" Lord Carolan's face was pinched with anticipation. "My Lord of Tirrsmont waits without, that he may give testimony and the gross insult he suffered be properly redressed."

Kel's heart sank but Turomot was frowning.

"It is not a complaint to this Council, Runnerspring, but to the court. No hearing here can be appropriate."

Duke Gareth intervened. "Entirely true, Your Grace, but there are two relevant petitions that would properly come before us at Imbolc, from my Lord of Tirrsmont claiming New Hope

and much beside, and from Lady Keladry, asking all petitions for New Hope to become a fief and claims for it be set aside until the area is discharged from military governance. At the cost of some impropriety we might deal with all now."

"It is more than impropriety, Naxen." Turomot was stiff but not outraged, and Kel thought this was all rehearsed.

"True, but I do not suggest you make a ruling of any kind here—only that the Council of necessity include Tirrsmont's complaint in its deliberations. Of course, the outcome here is one you might properly consider in your own judgement."

"Very well." Turomot inclined his head. "Lady Keladry, are you willing to agree that anything you may say here today be considered as evidence in answering this complaint? You are of course free to make additional submissions to the court."

"Entirely willing, Your Grace, and I do so agree. May I know the terms of the complaint?"

"Of course." He took papers from a pile and passed them to Baird to hand on. Lords Carolan and Burchard did so with neutral faces, Torhelm gave his habitual sneer. When they reached Kel she ran eyes down the neat legal hand. The opening was formulaic; the meat began on the second page with a claim of extensive surveying of the Greenwoods valley interrupted by war, and continued with an account of his attempt to enter New Hope as untrue as it was insinuatingly plausible, insisting on Kel's 'nervous inexperience as a green commander' and a clash with Tirrsmont's 'experienced captain' leading to a gross overreaction, denying a lord free passage of his lands and offering foul insult. Coming to the end she raised her eyes to Turomot's, and conscious of scrutiny on all sides, friendly and avidly hostile, strove for calm.

I am a lake. "An interesting piece of writing, Your Grace. I note my Lord of Tirrsmont does not explain why he came to New Hope, nor what demands he made."

"I noted that too, Lady Knight." Turomot's voice was always dust-dry but he sounded unimpressed. "Do you wish to make a response now?"

She thought hard. "I think it might be better to deal directly with his evidence, Your Grace, but"—she looked at the King—"I would ask, sire, that you be prepared to cast a truth-spell. If my Lord of Tirrsmont repeats what he has written his evidence and mine will clash."

"Of course, Lady Keladry." That was satisfaction in the King's tone and Kel realised that while this was staged, it was not she who had been set-up. Lords Carolan and Torhelm didn't seem to realise and Burchard was uninterested, eyes distant and face slack. The King pulled the cord and gave orders for Tirrsmont to be summoned, and in a few moments he entered, finery stretched over corpulence and head swivelling as he took in who was present. He was shown to the empty place by Torhelm and Kel realised there was no chair for him. His glance at her before bowing to the King was rancid with gloating.

Kel kept silent, resting a hand on Tobe's tense arm as Turomot took Tirrsmont through his account, spoken lies seamlessly matching those he'd written. His purpose in coming to New Hope he claimed as concern for his people 'unhappily forced to shelter there', drawing snorts from Alanna and Wyldon, but he ploughed on. When he said he wouldn't repeat the obscene things she had shouted, Kel had had enough and rose.

"I am perfectly happy to repeat all of them, should anyone wish, for I neither shouted nor used any obscenity, and do so swear. Sire?"

Blue fire sprang from Jonathan's hand to settle over Kel, flared white, and vanished. "You

speak the truth, Lady Knight."

"Thank you, sire. My Lord of Tirrsmont, however, was discourteous from the first, and did use obscenity. He omits to say that his 'experienced captain', whose byrnie was dirty and rusted, 'requested entry' by shouting 'Make way for his Lordship, you fools. Clear the road now'—addressed to myself, two uniformed captains, and senior civilian leaders. He also omits to say his son addressed me as 'wench', and denied he had attempted murder in the tilt but declined to swear it by gods' oath. His Lordship's own address to me was successively as 'the so-called Lady Knight', 'girl', 'Mindelan', twice, and 'you harlot'."

"You lie!" Tirrsmont's face was twisted.

"I swear I speak truth. Sire?"

The blue fire again settled, flared white, and vanished.

"She does speak truth, my Lord. Which means you lie, and have lied in a sworn deposition to the court as well as in person to me and every member of this Council." The King's voice was cold. "You will do well not to lie again. And I give you oath-warning I will truthspell you at need."

Turomot took over. "I ask you again, my Lord. Why did you go to New Hope? You have filed no claim or notice of intent hitherto, as you should if you were surveying it so extensively. Why did you go there?"

"I was concerned for the welfare of my people, Your Grace, nothing more. On my word."

Kel hadn't bothered to sit. "Sire?" Blue fire swirled and rebounded, flaring scarlet. "He has no concern for his people, as General Vanget and my Lord of Cavall will attest. Those who were his are at New Hope because he refused them shelter, voiding all liege-oaths. He wanted miners as a work party to reopen silver mines closed by order of my Lord of Goldenlake and General Vanget, though he consulted neither." She spared the scarlet-faced Tirrsmont one withering glance and moved from defence to attack. "It is for his demonstrated unfitness to rule that I oppose his claim, as does the northern army command and the great lords from Frasrlund to haMinchi land. The issue, my Lords, is not whether he should be given more to abuse and abandon but whether what he has should be taken away for gross dereliction of duties to his people, king, and realm."

"You godshat whore! I'll have you—"

I am a lake be damned. Kel had warned Duke Gareth, if not about Tirrsmont, and she was over the table in a second, Tirrsmont's voice chopping off in a gasp as he stumbled backwards. She was vaguely aware of shouts but her attention was all on the man before her.

"I've taken all the filth I will endure, Tirrsmont. If you again speak such vileness in my hearing or my son's we will meet on the field of honour, where I will cut out your tongue. Do you understand?" He goggled, blood draining from his face. "Do you understand?"

There was silence until Wyldon's voice came from behind, sounding oddly gentle. "I believe he does, Lady Keladry. And should he not, I will second your righteous challenge. I also concur that Tirrsmont should face an enquiry of noble competence, as does General Vanget."

"You what?" Lord Carolan's eyes were popping. "Cavall, you can't—"

"Silence!" The King's voice was raised but Kel's eyes were boring into Tirrsmont, now a dirty white, breath rasping. "Lady Keladry, you have our apologies for the gross insult you were

offered. Please sit."

Silently Kel did, ignoring her father's look but letting Tobe and Irnai take her hands under the table. The King drew himself up.

"My Lord of Tirrsmont, your behaviour here is wholly unacceptable, both in repeated perjury and in using blasphemous obscenity against a knight who has given this realm exceptional service. Nor can I ignore the strongly adverse opinions of your conduct in your fief that have been expressed over many months by my most senior commanders, my Champion, the Knight Commander of my Own, and many of your peers. Our first matter for a vote, then, is whether Arnolf of Tirrsmont should face an enquiry of noble competence. My Lords?"

It was a landslide. Counting proxies, but with the royals and Duke Turomot abstaining, there were twenty-two votes and only Lords Carolan and Torhelm voted against. Lord Burchard seemed barely aware of what was going on and abstained by saying nothing. Macayhill expressionlessly supported the majority despite Carolan's glare.

"That is clear. Given your conduct, Arnolf of Tirrsmont, you will remain in royal custody until His Grace of Wellam convenes the hearing."

A double tug of the cord brought in a guard captain and two sergeants, armoured, armed, and clearly waiting. Something in Kel shivered as she wondered how deeply she'd been used and saw the sheer bewilderment on Tirrsmont's face, as well as Torhelm's loathing for her, and Lord Carolan's; but Tobe's simple satisfaction, and the faces of Alanna, Wyldon, Lord Imrah, Nond, and Disart, who'd said almost nothing, gave her pause. She hated dishonesty and drama but something had been achieved. As the doors closed the King was brisk.

"Regardless of the outcome of that hearing, my Lords, it is clear Tirrsmont's claim for New Hope must be summarily dismissed. Do any demur? Lord Carolan? Then it is so dismissed. There are also those other claims for it as a fief, and Lady Keladry's petition for their dismissal until peace shall allow deliberation, with which she submitted compelling documentation you have seen. I ask that you vote on her petition, and considering that documentation and what we have heard of Quenuresh I add a rider by royal authority—that when the matter of New Hope's status as a fief is considered, Lady Keladry's claim, or that of her heirs and assigns, shall be considered first."

Kel was too busy parsing 'heirs and assigns'—did he mean Tobe? —to do more than glare and the King took no notice. The vote was nineteen–two, and despite her surprise at Lord Burchard's second silent abstention she managed to express thanks for the Council's care of New Hope, though she wasn't persuaded care or anything like it lay at the heart of what had happened. She found herself thanked in turn for all she'd done, and slightly mollified when the King extended thanks to Tobe and Irnai for all they had done and attending today. Then she was politely dismissed until the morrow, but as she rose her father requested he be excused from remaining business, and receiving permission accompanied them out.

In the ante-chamber he spoke only once—"Your rooms I think, my dear"—but once they were there, and the children had escaped to her bedroom to play with Kitten, whom they found waiting impatiently outside her door, he enfolded her in a hard hug. When he let her go his face was a complex of emotions.

"My dear, I am sorry you had to endure that. And the children. I realised yesterday something was in the wind but His Majesty forbade me to speak to you."

"It was all a set-up then?"

"In essence—Vanget's complaints about Tirrsmont have been savage—but not entirely, I think. Certainly the force of your reactions was not foreseen." He shook his head. "For all my rage at his words my heart was in my mouth when you went after Tirrsmont so fast." He hesitated. "Has it often been as vile as that for you, my dear? I knew you faced dislike and suspicion from the hidebound, of course, and about Joren. But these … sexual slanders, and the hatred in Torhelm …"

She couldn't lie to him. "It's not new, Papa. I never let it bother me when it started, nor for a long time, but I won't accept it in front of Tobe. I'd warned Duke Gareth I wouldn't."

"Nor should you—I wasn't complaining, my dear. It was splendid, actually, and I'm proud of you for defending yourself and my grandson, as you should. Under other circumstances … Council members may not challenge one another, of course, but that was not at issue …" His voice trailed away until he swallowed and looked her in the eye. "You have changed, Kel— you're so much stronger—so disciplined and reserved, as you have always been, but then so forceful … I had thought it was your experiences of the Chamber and at Rathhausak. But you have changed again since I saw you at those marvellous dedications." He swallowed. "I know something happened at New Hope, my dear, something bad, but even your mother will not tell me what it was."

Kel's heart hurt. "I didn't want to upset you, Papa, but yes, something happened. I …. met

some gods. It changes you."

"You mean at the dedications? Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady?"

"No. Yes. Them too. But I met the Black God, the Graveyard Hag, and the Goddess." It was hopeless and she felt tears hot in her eyes. "Can you promise not to shout or anything? I don't think I could bear that, and I am alive and well now."

"Of course you are. I won't shout. My dear, please, what is it?"

As barely as she could she told him, and his hands on her shoulders tightened painfully before he stood, kissed her forehead hard, and walked back and forth, fists clenched. She could see his distress and the control he was exerting and her heart quailed; when he turned back to her there were tears in his eyes but joy as well as horror and rage in his face, and his voice was wondering.

"My worst possible nightmare, and you are alive. Strengthened and returned by the god himself. Without harm, however changed."

His hug was no fiercer than her own, and both their shoulders were damp by the time they released one another. Although she had dreaded his knowledge of what had happened she felt only relief and a singing emptiness, and knew exactly what she wanted to do.

"Can you come with us to the Temple District, Papa? I wanted to thank Shakith for Irnai and the Goddess for myself." Her smile was crooked. "I've thanked the Black God several times already but I'd like to do that again too."

"Of course. I'd have been going myself anyway." There was a burst of laughter and an accompanying trill from Kitten in the bedroom. "But perhaps cleaning ourselves up and having lunch first would be an idea."

The day was dry and intermittently sunny, and after the tensely seated morning they decided to walk despite the chill wind. Tobe and Irnai had cloaks among their acquisitions; Kel found the jerkin over her tunic sufficient, Piers collected his cloak from the office he maintained at the Palace, and Kitten, who chose to come, needed only dragonhide.

It was a mile-and-a-half from Palace to Temple District, separated from the lower city by the Common, where herds and flocks grazed under watchful eyes. Leaving Palace Way as soon as they could they took the path across the half-wooded slope below the Palace enclosure, Irnai and Tobe running and skipping, while Kel and her father answered with a few evasions a lively barrage of questions from Kitten about mortal attitudes to the gods and why they were going to the temples today.

It is very confusing. Kitten sounded resigned. Dragons fought a war with gods a long time ago, and my Grandsire said we now avoid one another. But when a dragon does have to meet a god, as Grandsire and I did, we just talk, though as I told you, Kel, gods seem very bad at listening. Mithros certainly didn't listen to me properly when I scolded him for upsetting Mama. Dragons don't do this worshipping the gods that mortals do. I understand you wanting to say thank you to the gods who have helped you—that is only polite—but why do more?

Kel had watched her father's eyebrows take several trips up and down during this but he answered civilly enough.

"You must remember we mortals are mortal, Skysong. We do not live long by dragon standards, we are physically small and weak, and all but a few great mages, like Numair, weaker magically than any dragon. We are at the gods' mercy and worship is a way of trying to gain favour."

I suppose so, but when Mama wants something from my grandparents she just asks them.

It is much less complicated.

"She is their daughter, Kit. It's different for the Godborn."

But you say all the gods are parents to you. They do not seem to be very good parents. Oh look, Irnai has found the wildflowers she wanted.

She scrambled off to help gather wintersweet and Kel's father turned to her with a look of bemusement.

"She scolded Lord Mithros? Do you know about that?"

"A little." Kel smiled. "It sounded rather wonderful. Daine said it was after she'd killed Ozorne and found herself in the Court of the Gods with all of them there. She'd been chasing him in bird-form so she was naked, poor woman, and Lord Gainel lent her his coat. Uusoae was banished by Father Universe and Mother Flame to a cage somewhere I didn't understand, and Lord Mithros gave Daine a choice between remaining in the Divine Realms as a minor goddess or returning to the mortal realm for good. At some point Diamondflame and Kitten arrived—Daine says dragons go wherever they want—and when she thought she'd have to stay with her parents and leave her mortal friends she got upset and Kitten set about Lord Mithros. It must have been quite a sight."

"Glory, yes. I imagine Lord Sakuyo was amused. Did it do any good?"

"Maybe. Daine does visit her parents sometimes, as they visit her, so the limitations on

travel can't be absolute, but whether it was Kitten's doing I doubt. Unless Lord Mithros agreed in self-preservation."

Her father laughed. "She does talk nineteen-to-the-dozen, doesn't she? But she's always interesting, if sometimes alarming." He shook his head. "A war between dragons and gods— Mithros! I'm glad that was long ago and now they just talk."

"Mmm. It's odd, you know, Papa—the Godwars have come up several times recently." She told him what Queen Barzha had told her.

"You offered a treaty to stormwings?"

"I did, Papa. You know that phrase about wanting people in not out?"

"Pissing out rather than in, you mean? Yes—and that's appropriate for stormwings! Still. Does the King know?"

"Numair and Daine do. And Numair saw at once why I did it." "That wretched prophecy, I suppose. Your mother told me about it."

"Yes. I know in my heart that we'll face a real fight at New Hope sooner or later, and I'm just trying to get every edge I can."

"Of course, and very well, my dear. I was only surprised. I gathered you met Kawit— astonishing creature! Did you try to recruit her as well?"

Kel laughed. "No, though she'd be welcome if she wants. After Quenuresh we'd take her in our stride. I'm not sure about Diamondflame, though, all eighty-five foot of him. What do you think will happen when he shows up? Kitten says he's promised to visit her."

"He has? News to me, my dear. Did you say eighty-five foot?"

Cheerful speculation about probable reactions and what Master Oakbridge would consider proper dragon etiquette brought them to the guarded entrance of the Temple District, where Piers was recognised and Kitten, Kel, and the children scrutinised with interest. Her father made a point of introducing them and they talked for a few minutes to the guards, charmed to be spoken to by the dragonet. The main gates were nearer Palace Way and this side-entrance led them behind the temple of the Smith God and the smaller one of Harrier the Clawed to the main square where the temples they wanted clustered.

Shakith's temple was smallest, her great centre being in Carthak, but Kel liked the building, winter sunlight from high windows striping the interior. She felt no special indebtedness to the blind goddess but was happy to see Irnai skip forward to lay half the flowers she'd collected at the statue's feet. An elderly priestess who sat to one side opened her mouth when she saw skipping but abruptly closed it, peered at Irnai, and stood, bowing. After she'd laid the flowers and reached a hand to touch the staff of prophecy, the girl looked at the old woman, face guileless.

"She told me she likes wintersweet. I was hiding from the Kinslayer and there was a patch growing in front of where I was lying."

The priestess's eyes went wide. "I did not know, Chosen. I will make sure we offer it more often." A hesitation. "You are Irnai?"

Irnai nodded.

"You bless us with your presence, Chosen." To Kel's relief she added a more sensible invitation. "You are welcome here always."

"Thank you."

They went on to the temple of the Great Goddess, where Kel laid the rest of the flowers, sending thanks for being made whole. She felt a sense of warmth and benison, and when she stood and bowed to the statue, tracing the gods' circle on her chest, there was a faint echo of hounds belling that brought a dozing priestess awake, looking around. Kel didn't wait to offer explanations, but when they were outside again her father—who had given his own fervent thanks for his daughter's life and health but felt nothing—looked at her piercingly.

"She watches you still, then, my dear. It is a great comfort, if also something of a terror, I

find."

"Tell me." Kel smiled wryly. "I'm every bit as grateful as I should be, but to be honest I'd just as soon the gods had never noticed me at all."

I told you Grandsire said gods were annoying.

"So you did, Kit, but I'm not annoyed exactly—I just feel very out of my depth with

them."

And is that not annoying?

Kel smiled. "You have me there. But there's not much I can do."

That is annoying too. You are going to the Temple of Mithros now? I will wait outside. I am not giving him the chance to ignore me again.

"Of course, Kit—that's very sensible of you."

Laughing inside they entered. Flowers hadn't seemed appropriate for the Lord of fire and war, but Kel had a tiny mageblast with its key that Takemahou -sensei had made, one of a stock in different sizes he'd left her, and hoped it would please the god who had commanded her return from death; she'd left another at his shrine in New Hope. The great polished sun-disc and flaring torches on the walls were familiar on a lesser scale from the Chapel of the Ordeal but impressed Tobe, who had his own offering—a horse he'd carved to ask for Peachblossom's continued recovery and Alder's and Kel's safety in battle. They nodded gravely to watching priests before laying their offerings and praying together before the imposing statue, black skin, gold robes, and gleaming spear, with a strange expression as if he peered into distance. Kel's prayer was simply for New Hope to be safe, keeping battle outside its walls, with a promise to do all she could to ensure it herself, and a request that if she were in any way failing she be upbraided in time to rectify the problem. She felt nothing like the warmth of the goddess but did have a sense of acceptance, and Tobe said he didn't know if it had been acceptance, exactly, but had felt his offering was right.

"That sounds like it."

Kel ruffled his hair and braced herself. The Black God's temple was windowless in plain black stone, a striking contrast with the decorated whiteness of the other main temples, and the dark interior lit only by five tall candles by the hooded statue. She laid her offering—a tiny Yamani ihai, a spirit tablet made from New Hope's limestone, that she had incised with her own name—and prayed. In Kel's mind the face beneath his hood was clear; she thought she could never forget any detail of its beauty or infinite sadness, and her heartfelt wish for the god to find

the solace he offered twined with pure thanks for her life and sparing her parents grief. She had brought a cone of the best incense she could find and lit it as she completed her prayer, gazing at the face that was not there. Wind soughed through the silence of the temple as candleflames sprang tall and straight; so did the flame on her incense and its rich fragrance spread everywhere. Comforted again, she stood and bowed deeply, thanking the god one more time and took the children's hands as they followed her wide-eyed father back out. Blinking in sunlight Kel heard her name in a familiar voice and Alanna rose from a bench to saunter across, Kitten bouncing beside her.

"Hello Tobe, Irnai. Piers. They said I'd find you here, Kel." "I have much to be thankful for."

"Mmm." Alanna's gaze went past Kel. "Did the Black God speak to you, by chance? There's some wild-eyed priests headed your way."

"Oh bother." There was no getting out of it. "He didn't speak but there was that wind sound and the candles flared. My incense, too. Give me a minute, would you?"

A puffing, black-robed priest with the rank knots of authority tied in his belt approached, others behind with equally disturbed faces.

"Forgive me, my Lady, but did you just make the offering the Black God accepted so decisively?"

"I did, Your Reverence. Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, at your service. May I present Sir Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, my father, Baron Piers of Mindelan, my son Tobeis, and Irnai of Rathhausak, Chosen of Shakith."

"Ah. Indeed. My." All the priests bowed in many directions, trying for several at once so far as Kel could see. "I am Riellin, my Lady. I have the honour to be Third Priest here." His eyes goggled. "The god's response to you was spectacular."

He was obviously dying to ask Kel what she'd prayed for and while she had no intention of giving him a theological revelation that would have every priest of the Black God for miles around beating a path to her door she saw no reason not to say what she could.

"Yes, it was. When we dedicated his shrine at New Hope his breath sounded behind the chimes, and when we dedicated the burial ground, so I know he watches over us and gave thanks. I prayed also he might find the comfort he offers—you might try it. He bears such sadness for us all, you realise?" A thought struck her. "Do you worship the Hag?"

Riellin's look combined bewilderment and panic. "Ah, no, my Lady. Lady Knight. Commander. We don't. She is, ah, potent only in Carthak."

Kel shook her head. "Don't you believe it, Riellin. She gets about and has a vile senseof humour, I warn you. The hyena's a shock too. Now if you'll excuse us, we have urgent business. Sir Alanna came to summon us from our devotions."

She bowed more deeply than was called for and swept away, arms round the children, hearing a priestly babble rise. Alanna and her father followed in silence until they had made it through the gate, where to the consternation of the guards Alanna wheezed to a halt and gave herself over to laughter, actually slapping her thigh as she rocked back and forth. Kel had read of people doing that in one of the absurd romances Neil recommended, but she'd never seen anyone do it and had thought it another ridiculous exaggeration. She watched with interest and eventually

Alanna sobered, wagging her finger in Kel's direction.

"Kel, that was priceless. Riellin's nice enough but a godly bore. He'll be hopping in circles for weeks. I must tell Jon."

Kel shrugged, content Riellin should. "I expect they all will. The Goddess breathed too, when I thanked her, though I ducked questions there, and Irnai told a priestess Shakith likes wintersweet. You can expect the Palace gardens to be raided after the hillside's gleaned."

Alanna dissolved in laughter again. "Three responses? Oh glory. Kel, Kel, Jon says Holloran already makes the gods' circle whenever he mentions you. You'll have all of them doing it."

"Only two, Alanna. Shakith didn't say anything."

"She said hello to me but I knew the priestess hadn't heard." Irnai's smile was as often far too old for her face but Alanna laughed yet again.

"Quite right, Irnai. It's awkward when that happens, isn't it? Oh that's a far better afternoon than I could have hoped for." Still chuckling, she straightened and they began to walk back up the path.

Kel frowned. "Did you walk down, Alanna?"

"I did. There's no urgency and I felt like getting out after this morning. I do have a message, though, which is that they did the draw for Ordeals. There're six squires this year so it's three nights before and three after Longnight. Owen's on the first night after."

"Right, thank you. And Prosper of Tameran?"

"Um, night after Owen. Did I know you knew him?"

"I've no idea. He was with us when we fought those hillmen in my second page year and we've been friends ever since."

"I did know, then. I'd forgotten. I'm getting old. Anyway, what I really came for was to apologise for being so silent this morning, Kel—Jon wanted me to stay out of it and he had a point. It wouldn't have helped if I'd told Stone Mountain or Runnerspring or that unspeakable Torhelm what I think of them. Again."

"I guessed it must be something like that, Alanna. Papa says he was forbidden to talk to me when he realised what was being set-up."

"Really? Jon leaned on you, Piers?"

"He did, Alanna. Yesterday, when I heard Tirrsmont had filed a complaint and Runnerspring was planning to ambush Kel."

"Yes, that was icing on the cake. But I came to apologise and to congratulate you on the way you handled it all, Kel. Polite as you like in the face of considerable rudeness and then Bam! I've rarely seen a man change colour as fast as Tirrsmont, the poltroon. Jon's been itching to take him down, but for the southerners and westerners it was all so far away until they heard him lie to them."

"I didn't handle it, Alanna. I meant every word I said."

"Then I like the way you meant it."

"I don't like being used, Alanna, and I'll tell the King so tomorrow. If he wants me to do something he can command or ask it. All this, I don't know"—she waved her hand—"hugger mugger does no-one favours. Tirrsmont is a poltroon but he should be tried fairly, not ambushed. And anyone supposed to spring an ambush should know they're doing it."

"You tell Jon exactly that. I did, but he's so much more complicated than he used to be. Though to be fair it has been a problem." Alanna's glance was shrewd. "Do you understand what you did this morning, Kel? Have you asked your father?"

"We had other concerns, Alanna. I suspect you should know Kel told me what happened to her. Before anything else I must thank you with all my heart for summoning the Goddess."

"You did, Kel? Good for you." Alanna clapped her arm. "I hoped you would but I didn't think it'd be this soon. And you're welcome, Piers, as Kel is. But tell her what she did, politically speaking, because I'm not sure she has a clue."

"Don't you, my dear? I think what Alanna means is that you, um, broke the logjam that has delayed things in the Council for months."

"Years more like." Alanna's voice was a growl.

"Well, yes. For the first time the military north—both haMinch seats, Cavall, Blue Harbour, and Frasrlund—voted with the Progressives against the Conservative west and south

—and you pulled in Nond, Disart, and Macayhill. They'll find it harder to go back than they might think."

"Too right. You've also given Jon a half-dozen nicely pointy things to use when he wants, including one that with luck will see that pig Voelden excluded from succession at Tirrsmont. Turomot will be delighted to require a gods' oath he's never sullied the field of honour." Alanna grinned. "And if you don't end up as Baroness of New Hope, Kel, I'll eat my armet. Your petition worked beautifully but if you survive whatever it is that's going to happen Jon'll have you ennobled in your own right far faster than you can say 'no'."

"What?" Appalled, Kel came to a dead halt. "Alanna, you're joking?" "Not at all. Tell her, Piers."

Tobe and Irnai pulled Kel back into motion, Kitten bouncing beside them with what looked to Kel like a draconic grin.

"I suspect Alanna is correct, my dear. From any sensible point-of-view a central northern fief with a stronghold like New Hope is a godsend, and from the King's perspective he'd be reinforcing the border with someone Prince Roald likes and trusts who is our future queen's oldest Tortallan friend." He hesitated and Alanna wagged a finger.

"Not yet, Piers."

"No. There are considerations I'm forbidden to mention, my dear, though I hope you'll learn of them soon. But they help to explain why the King hasn't ennobled you in your own right already. He wanted to, you know, and there's considerable pressure on him to do so."

"There is?" Kel felt bewildered, though Tobe's and Irnai's hands were tight on her own. "From whom?"

"From many sides, my dear, not least the lower city. I know you think of Miss Isran as a friend, but she was becoming an interesting voice in city affairs even before your report was published. You know what happened when you and Alanna arrived, and your conduct since has been widely and positively noticed. I would be surprised if a dozen people in the lower city were ignorant of the Protector of the Small."

"And they arrived today, drunk." Alanna grinned widely at Kel.

"Gah." Kel hunched her shoulders. "I'm going to strangle that elemental. It's ridiculous."

"Well, you'll have a chance tomorrow. Rather you than me, frankly. More importantly, I hear you're going to show off a new style Lalasa's devised this evening and set all the court women by the ears. Do tell."

Kel would have screamed if it weren't for the children.

After an early supper Lalasa came to help them dress, cheery and talkative, and by the time they passed her inspection even Kel had to admit they were all looking presentable. The flames hemming Irnai's dress were vivid, and the sight of her fingering the fine material with a dreamy smile was warmth in Kel's heart. So was Tobe's scrubbed face atop his blue tunic with its owl and crossed glaives, fine light blue breeches, and shining boots. She even thought she looked well enough herself, thanks to Lalasa, and though she refused lip-paint did let herself be persuaded into eye-shadow that worked nicely. The freckles banding her cheeks had faded with winter and the blue-black traces Lalasa applied made her hazel eyes stand out.

"There, my Lady. You look a picture, though I say so myself."

Kel wasn't persuaded, but Lalasa had news of what she still teasingly called the Protector's Maids and draft contracts for Kel to consider, modelled on their own curious employer-servant way of doing things. It had evolved when service as Raoul's squire took Kel from Corus and Lalasa hadn't wanted to work for anyone else save as a seamstress; now Kel would in effect be hiring these other women, nominally as maids, and providing capital to let them work for themselves, their wages being underwritten and the money repaid as tithes from profit. It seemed to favour her more than it ought and she argued figures, but Lalasa was clear the women liked the arrangement—employment in Kel's service gave them status they could use and guaranteed income greatly mollified opposition from kith and kin. Kel did insist on greater generosity in a few places and for everyone's sake a clause requiring review of wages and tithes at regular intervals with a rider that gave her freedom to deal with difficulties on an individual basis.

"I'll check these with Papa, but I think that's all fine now. Oh, and I've been meaning to tell you—you should get a boost with the self-defence classes. I think I've persuaded Thayet to require every female servant at the Palace to be trained, in batches. I didn't think you'd mind some royal patronage."

"Oh my Lady. That is good news." Lalasa knew exactly what women might endure in the warren of the Palace, and beamed. "I do have an appointment with Her Majesty in a few days, but I thought it was another order—she's been generous buying from me. The Princess and some of her ladies too."

"They want the best, Lalasa." Kel's sense of mischief tweaked her. "When you marry Tomas you should invite them to your wedding."

Lalasa's scandalised pleasure at the thought and enquiries from Kel about the kind of wedding she wanted filled time until they set off for the Great Ballroom. Given the children's excitement and likely crowds Kel had thought to arrive earlier than later, but there was already a sizeable queue of couples waiting to be announced, and from the noise many already inside. She could see Adie and Orie with Merovec and Ortien about to enter, so they wound up waiting with people Kel didn't know or half-recognised from serving as a page and squire. Both she and the children attracted scrutiny and she saw eyes flicking from the Mindelan owl and glaives on her dress to those on Tobe's tunic, but only the couple behind them bothered—or dared—introduce themselves. An evidently wealthy merchant and his cheerful wife, they were pleasant and interested in the children as well as Kel. They offered congratulations on her report, decrying necromancy, but didn't harp on it when Kel asked instead about the merchant's business. She did her bit for Lalasa's friends, mentioning the shops that would open in the new year, and was gratified by his immediate promise to investigate.

"Quality wares sell everywhere, my Lady. Carthakis and Yamanis don't want our ordinary stuff any more than we want theirs—food excepted, at need—but fine work commands a price in both empires."

"Yes indeed, Master Orman. I know that from my time in the Islands—there were always exotic things available." A thought struck her. "Would there be a market for unusual stoneware, do you think—for storage or display? Up at New Hope we're mostly dealing in necessities, thanks to the war, but our basilisks can petrify wood so anything our carpenters can turn we can render in stone."

"There certainly would, my Lady. New Hope is the fort that replaced Haven? Mmm— there's not many willing to travel so near the front but I'll send someone to see this stoneware, if that is acceptable."

"Very much so. We're in a military area, so your man will need travel papers from General Vanget or my Lord of Cavall. He's here for Midwinter so I can ask him to issue them as soon as you know whom you might send. And I can have an escort meet them at Bearsford."

"That's very kind, my Lady."

"It's to our advantage, Master Orman. We've so little it's not easy, but the more we do ourselves the less the burden on army and realm."

She couldn't make out his look as he nodded. "I would more nobles thought so, my Lady. And commanders. All else aside, it's to my advantage as well—the loss of northern trade these last two years has been felt, and you've something new to offer. Fine basilisk stoneware—I can sell that! Does the wood grain stay visible?"

"It can—depends on what the basilisks want to do." Her mischief surged again. "And if you don't mind dealing with a friendly spidren you can swap cheese for the best insulating material I've ever come across."

She let Tobe explain how useful old webbing was and watched as suspicion she'd been pulling his leg faded into thoughtful consideration.

"The Carthakis might be interested if it seals against dust-storms and there'd be Gallan and Yamani markets. Did you say cheese?"

"Spidrens really like it—ours do, at any rate. All kinds, but blue especially, and strong goats' milk ones. They might want other things too, or money to get them. Your man can ask when he comes."

"I'll think on it right enough, my Lady. Be sure of that."

The encounter left her cheerful as they reached the doorway and she gave their names to the servant announcing each arrival. His glance was keen.

"Rart-howsak? Is that correct, my Lady?"

"Irnai?"

The girl looked up at the man gravely. "More Rraat-hausac, sir."

Her courtesy produced a wide smile. "Rraat-hausac. Got it. Do you prefer Sir or Lady Knight Commander, my Lady?"

"Lady Knight."

"Military rank is always included."

Kel had been watching announcements through the door and none seemed to make much impression on the crowd, but when she and the children stepped in heads turned.

"Lady Knight Commander Keladry of Mindelan, with Tobeis of Mindelan and Irnai of Rathhausak."

The weight of attention was palpable but her arms were round the children's shoulders and she could see her sisters and in-laws with her parents—both in marvellous kimonos—and Alanna. Ignoring the buzz that rose she headed for them, thinking how striking Alanna looked in a dress that matched her eyes but halted abruptly as three burly forms swung out to block her path. Torhelm was clearly already the worse for drink, face mottled; flanking him his vile son, Sir Guisant, and Sir Garvey of Runnerspring wore identically malicious smiles of anticipation. Her hands tightened on the children's shoulders.

"So you bring your Scanran bastard even here? Shameless bitch."

Whether Torhelm had pitched his voice to carry or was just shouting drunk Kel couldn't tell but it hardly mattered. Gut tightening and mind chilling with rage she drew herself up, one hand squeezing Tobe's shoulder, and in her peripheral vision saw Alanna starting towards them, red-faced with purple fire beginning to spark in her hand.

"Are you entirely stupid, Torhelm? If Tobe were my natural son I would have borne him when I was nine."

"Wouldn'ta stopped a slut like you." Three pairs of eyes gleamed at her, like animals' at night. "And if you think you're getting away with your bitch slanders on Tirrsmont, think again. He'll cut out your tongue and your coyne too before we're done with you."

Kel's vision was hazing with red that sparkled silver but huge effort kept her voice level. "I think His Grace of Wellam will act as he judges in the realm's best interests, Torhelm. You're stupid drunk already and if you've the least sense you'll leave, now. I give you fair warning I'll —"

"You warn me, you arrogant cow? Any real man would cut your bitch's head off and piss

down the stump. You're not even worth swiving. Gods know how you've whored it so high. From what I hear even a tauros ran away—didn't have a bag to cover you with I suppose."

He roared laughter, drowning his son's and Garvey's sniggers, and Kel's vision edged everything silver. As time slowed she watched his open mouth, lip trembling and droplets of spittle exploding into the air. His teeth were crooked and his tongue discoloured with the wine he'd been drinking. Somewhere thunder pealed and hounds whined.

"Or you ran away fast enough, mebbe, when you saw a real pizzle. Oh yes, we know the truth, how you left your so-called people to it and ran." The drunken face took on a look of cunning. "But you coulda taken it easily, by all accounts—you must be as slack as an old shirt by now, all the whoring you've done. Lady Knight be cursed—you're a bloated bitch who's whored Tortall to the dogs. If the gods gave a flying shit about us that tauros woulda swived you dead."

Thunder pealed again and hounds bayed. Time released her speech.

"Angors of Torhelm, you are as ignorant as you are blasphemous and malicious. Six tauroses we killed. The seventh did rape me, and I died of it." She was distantly aware of confusion warring with startled pleasure in Guisant's eyes. "In a space I cannot describe I met the Black God, who forgave me and at the command of Lord Mithros returned me to the world. By the grace of the Lady Alanna I met the Great Goddess and was healed in my womanhood. If you are wise you will go to your knees and beg the gods' forgiveness."

Something had driven Guisant and Garvey back a pace but Torhelm was too drunk or crazed to realise and his laughter roared again as the torches in the wall sconces flared with candles and oil-lamps all round the room, and the crystal mage-lights above dimmed.

"Gods this, gods that—you're a gods' fool, bitch. P'raps you swived them too, eh? Gave Mithros a jiggy ride in that slack coyne of yours."

Kel's hand rose to her chest and began to trace the gods' circle. "I, Keladry of Mindelan, swear I have spoken truth and call on Lord Mithros, the Great Goddess, and the Black God to witness it." Her hand stilled and the sky waited. "And I ask that for his vile blasphemies and falsehoods this night Angors of Torhelm be stricken dumb and halt for a year and a day, that he may consider the peril in which his soul stands."

Her hand moved on and the air heaved. Every flame leaped tall and silver and voices rang amid cresting thunder, clashing arms and cries and belling hounds with the winter wind soughing through them all like a gale.

Heard and Granted. Heard and Granted. Heard and Granted.

Kel felt only pressure as air thickened and pulled the trembling children closer to her, hands tightening on their shoulders, but Guisant and Garvey were bowled backwards, faces slack with terror, and Torhelm dropped like a felled steer, one hand clapping to his throat and the other his right leg. The sound he made was a mewling version of the death-scream of the women who'd died by the tauroses and from the smell Kel knew he'd voided himself. Her mind burned clearly in the gods' presence and her voice rang through the Hall.

"So is your blasphemy answered, Angors of Torhelm. Think on it as you limp in silence. You will have no second chance." Pressure eased and the mage-lights half-brightened again as flames guttered. Kel's head turned smoothly to meet Master Oakbridge's eyes, wide and shocked where he stood inside the door. "Master Oakbridge, this lord and these knights require assistance to leave, and there is soil to clear, I believe." She smiled gently. "I fear the torches and candles need renewing also."

That distant part of her had never appreciated the training of protocol more as Oakbridge jerked and bowed. "At once, my Lady."

He didn't need to signal—the servant at the door and others came nervously forward with pages, bowing to Kel and the children before hauling a whimpering Torhelm and the dazed knights to their feet and dragging them roughly out. As a maid came scurrying with bucket and mop Kel saw Alanna staring from a position half-way towards her parents and sisters, blurred behind her, but waited until the shaking woman had mopped Torhelm's mess and dropped to her knees to polish the floor. A white face peered anxiously up at her.

"Is that alright, my Lady?"

"It's fine." Extending a hand Kel grasped her arm and effortlessly lifted the woman to her feet. "I thank you, of your kindness. Go with the gods' blessings." Looking up she saw beyond Alanna a path extending to the foot of the throne-chairs on the dais at the end of the room, with Jonathan and Thayet as arrested as Alanna. All around pale faces hung suspended. Her voice rang again, full of an ease she truly felt.

"Your Majesties, I can make no apology for the drama—Lord Angors and the gods' were responsible for that—but I am sorry for the delay. I was bringing the children to present to you."

They walked beside her as she went forward, Alanna stepping aside, purple eyes wide, then falling in behind with her parents. The crowd clearing like scuffed leaves.

"My adopted son, Tobeis of Mindelan, Your Majesties, and the seer Irnai of Rathhausak, Chosen of Shakith. Without them both my mission to Scanra could not have succeeded."

Prompted by the comfortable skirt of her dress she curtseyed, feeling Irnai follow as Tobe bowed. Jonathan's face was unreadable.

"Lady Knight Commander, no apology is necessary save Ours for the obscene insults you have suffered from a drunken guest here, and the gods have shown what they thought of that. Lord Angors of Torhelm is summarily dismissed Our Council, and he and the knights of Torhelm and Runnerspring who stood with him are banished Our court." He gestured aside and a uniformed sergeant of the guard shook himself and headed briskly for the door. "Tobeis of Mindelan and Irnai of Rathhausak, yet young you have each done Us great service, and We honour you both. Lady Knight Keladry, Our indebtedness grows daily and We hereby recognise the title the Chamber of the Ordeal bestowed on you with the gods' blessings—Protector of the Small, who cannot defend themselves and whom you champion, even as Lady Alanna champions Us."

Kel didn't even blink though something inside her sighed resignation. "You are generous, sire." She turned to Thayet. "I am sure the gods intended no disruption to your ball, Your Majesty, and I am sorry for any I have occasioned."

"There has been no disruption, Lady Keladry, only welcome justice and blessings." The mage-lights brightened to the full at Thayet's words and Kel was aware of servants replacing candles. "Share with Us now a grace cup, if you will." From somewhere a liveried servant appeared at her elbow with a great two-handled golden goblet and a fine lawn napkin. "We give thanks to the gods for their witness and judgement, and to Lady Knight Keladry for her great services and mercy."

Thayet drank, wiped the lip, and passed the cup to the King, who did the same and passed it to Kel. To her relief it wasn't wine but warm, spiced apple-juice, and after wiping the lip herself she passed it to Tobe, making sure he had it securely. He was equally careful passing it to Irnai,

and the liveried man took it back with a bow.

"Lady Knight, you have yet to greet your family." The King's voice was velvet. "Be at ease with them now, and with all."

He gestured with both hands and conversation grew as people began to break shocked entrancement and move normally again. Alanna softly clapped Kel's arm as she turned, a muttered 'Very well handled' audible only to her and perhaps the King, and she found herself enfolded by her father's arms for a second time that day, then her mother's, and to her surprise her sisters', both with tears in their eyes. Her own were dry and the sense of inward ease continued though somewhere emotions were clamouring and the wary wonder on Ortien's and Merovec's faces was disturbing. She was pleased though to see them talking to Tobe, and her sisters to Irnai, as her mother slipped an arm round her waist and turned her to see the King and Queen in a half-circle with her father. Everyone else was keeping their distance and Thayet's voice was low.

"Keladry, I am so sorry you were confronted by that vileness and as amazed as we all are at what you and the gods did. Alanna and your father have told us how they responded to you this afternoon in the temples, and now this. They watch you very closely."

There was a question under her words and Kel shrugged slightly.

"They do seem to, Thayet, but your guess is as good as mine. It's New Hope and the war, plainly, and this timeway thing Queen Barzha mentioned—but she thought even the gods could only wait and see and Daine's parents said the same. I think they're just making sure the people they want to be there get there safely for whatever it is."

"You're very calm about it, Lady Knight." The King's statement was a question. "Even Alanna is not so poised when the Goddess has spoken to her, and you saw Irnai when Shakith made her a mouthpiece."

Kel felt herself smile—Alanna was often uncalm but she didn't say that. "I don't think divine power passed through me in the same way, sire. It struck Torhelm directly but we were shielded. I believe the Goddess bestowed a gift of ease. I am surprised myself but I feel calm."

"Then you are the only one. Forgive me—was that judgement yours or the gods'? The voice was yours but the words were ancient."

Kel considered. "I don't rightly know, sire. I was seeing red—literally—but everything was edged in silver and moving so slowly, as in combat sometimes. I was tracing the god's circle and I paused and the words I spoke came to me. I think it was me—I read something in which a mage did that to a man who offended and it seemed right." A thought struck her. "I'm sorry if it causes you political difficulties."

"I'm not, Lady Knight, and you shouldn't be. It was better justice than I could achieve, and far swifter. I'm delighted to have him gone."

Thayet's gaze had moved over Kel's shoulder and her eyes widened. "As are we all. But we're going to have to put this off until tomorrow, Jon—the dragons are here."

As she spoke Kel heard gasps and turned to see Numair in best robes, Daine in a dress like her own, Kitten with a beautiful silk bow and ribbon round her neck, and, dwarfing them all as she constricted herself to pass through the doors, Kawit. The servant's voice rang out.

"Master Numair Salmalín, Veralidaine Weirynsra, Wildmage, and the dragons Skysong and Kawit Pearlscale."

Kel heard the King's and Queen's breaths as they started forward with smiles of welcome and was overcome with amusement harder to conceal than the distress everyone expected from her would have been. She almost wished Quenuresh were here too, and Kuriaju and Amiir'aan with St'aara, but there was Tkaa, greeting his distant relations in that carrying whisper and skilfully drawing in a couple to whom he'd been talking—Master Orman and his wife. Kawit's sheer size and length of tail made for odd patterns as people skirted her but normal conversation slowly resumed and then rose rapidly to a great buzz. Her father rested a hand on her shoulder.

"They will be talking about it all for longer than that year and a day, my dear. Are you really alright? I am sure divine power did move through you—your voice as you cast him down …"

"I feel fine, Papa, truly. I think I might not later but I'm fine now. We should rescue the children from Orie and Adie."

"Or them from the children, maybe."

It was true that Tobe and Irnai seemed to be holding their own, faces shining as they chattered and took her sisters, fascinated and reluctant, to meet Kitten and Kawit. Kel and her father began to circulate, greeting those they knew—lords of the Council, in whom the morning's respect was fused with startled wariness, save for Wyldon, who gravely kissed her hand, offering his apologies for not having been able to warn her of the planned ambush; the Yamani ambassador and his wife, who gave Kel bows of respect to Sakuyo's Blessed and to her relief wanted to talk about glaives rather than what had just happened; a pensive Lachran, stealing a moment from duty after he'd brought them fresh juice and eyeing his aunt with wonder until Kel turned their conversation to his training; and various other Mindelan or Seabeth -and-Seajen relatives, who goggled deference Kel found tiresome. Piers also introduced her to scores of new faces—ambassadors, Yamanis and Carthakis at the Tortallan court for one or another reason, merchants in the Emerald Ocean trades, guildmasters with their wives and older children, and others who ran Corus, from the Lord Provost and senior Dogs to Wardsmen from the city council. Kel's head swam trying to remember them all but she said the right things, passing over the divine but making positive reports of the war and the strength of New Hope's defences, lodging its name in their minds as a place with people, and making tart remarks about how much those who'd refused to accept them had deprived themselves. After the fourth discreet enquiry from an avid wife about her dress she had to concede Lalasa had been right, and happily directed custom her way while discreetly warning that Her Majesty and Princess Shinkokami had priority but adding that Lalasa's growing custom had brought other seamstresses of exceptional quality into her employ.

It was a relief to reach Daine and Kitten, beside Kawit in a corner to which the opal dragon had courteously retired, crouched with her tail furled neatly around her forelegs. Daine's pregnancy didn't show beneath the loose fall of the dress and she grinned.

"Isn't Lalasa a marvel? I couldn't stand the tighter dresses I had and she whipped this up in a jiffy." Irony entered her eyes. "I felt the gods arriving clean over in our rooms. Kawit too, and Sir Myles told us what happened. Good for you, Kel—Torhelm's always been disgusting and I'm only sorry I missed it. Are you alright, though? You're looking wonderful but it must be costing you plenty."

The Goddess's power yet lingers within her, Godborn, and soothes her distress. Kawit's great eyes turned to Kel. You are a most unusual mortal, Keladry. Mithros has always had a temper to strike down those who cross him, but for three to strike together and the Black God among them is a rare departure. May I ask if they spoke to you?

"They didn't, Kawit, nor even through me, I don't think. Their voices just sounded from

the air, so far as I could tell, and their words were only 'heard and granted', like a chorus."

They are ever secretive, even when there is no obvious need.

"And dragons aren't?"

Kel could hear amusement in Kawit's mindvoice.

It depends on the dragon, but not in the same way. Save in our first centuries we are less playful, as a rule, and our anger far more direct.

"The gods were pretty direct with Torhelm this evening." Indeed. Perhaps they learn wisdom at last.

Kel knew better than to accept that gambit and the children's return with her mother helped the conversation to less charged matters. Sophisticated finger-food was being served and identifying the ingredients for Tobe and Irnai and watching them sample Kmiri, Carthaki, and Yamani delicacies scattered among the Tortallan became an adventure in itself. When Tkaa joined them they saw he was munching from a bowl of stone fragments .

"Black opal matrix," he explained to a fascinated Tobe. "Queen Thayet knows I have a taste for it, as many basilisks do, and is kind enough to indulge me. I fear you would find it indigestible. A whole opal would serve you better."

The conversation wound to power stones and their uses, Daine telling the children about the mage-barrier at Dunlath that had been anchored in black opals, her friend Brokefang and the wolf called Short Snout, another cheese lover, before ending with Numair turning an enemy mage into a tree and subsequently searching for a year to find the tree he had in necessary balance turned into a man. They listened happily, asking sensible questions, and when she saw eyelids drooping Kel gathered them and they made farewells. When she had them safely tucked up Kel was at last able to close her bedroom door behind her and try to take stock of her emotions.

The Goddess's ease was still present, she thought, a warm cushion, and the passage of divine power certainly hadn't harmed her, but below it all she knew a great bruise spread from the obscenities Torhelm had spewed, hammering relentlessly in language and thought at the lack she felt most keenly and the convictions of unattractiveness Lalasa's dress had briefly assuaged. His careless mention of the paradox that had always run through such obsessively sexual insults, making her at once too ugly for any man to desire and the most successful spread-legged jade lurid imaginations could conjure, had been a greater knife in her heart than his cruder language, though she didn't really understand why. She'd felt the lone cow among his bitches and whores too, almost sadly, as if it were a confirmation though she knew it was only an echo of Joren's childish malice. As she cleaned her eyes of the colour Lalasa had applied they were wet but she wasn't sobbing, just leaking heartfelt sorrow. Could she do nothing without lords she barely knew brandishing the mysteries so relentlessly closed to her? To the understandable reluctance of men to attempt a woman who could throw or decapitate them was added an equally understandable reluctance even to consider one who might call massed gods to strike them down if they displeased her—for nonsense as it might be Kel knew enough about gossip to have a sure sense of how the tales of this night would be told and retold.

When she had put on her nightshirt, blown out the candle, and climbed between the cold sheets tears were still slowly welling and she thought it would be a long time before she slept. But within minutes she was amid her dream of the Islands, running with Yuki and Cricket in spring sunlight through the great gardens of the Imperial Palace and seeing the marvellous new blossoms limning the Emperor's flowering trees in white and pink glory.


	13. Chapter 11

Lordship

Chapter Eleven — Lordship

18–31 December

Kel's lunch with the King was not what she'd expected. Instead of Thayet or Shinko their companions were Roald and a grumpy Numair, who clearly didn't think he needed to be there. Nor, after brief remarks as he led her to private apartments she'd never seen, did the King talk of the previous evening—his concern was entirely with the elemental.

"It is a foundation of the realm, Lady Keladry. Its incorruptibility is critical. Forgive me, but it has never before shown such favouritism, and the double failure of three years ago still has people on edge."

Kel blinked. "Favouritism? Forgive me, sire, but that's … not accurate." Telling him it was complete rot didn't seem wise. "Do you call it favouritism when you send the nearest capable servant to unblock a drain? I have no idea how the elemental really perceives time—I asked it when I would meet Blayce and it said something incomprehensible about mortals being fish in a bowl who see nothing beyond, while it is the beyond and sees everything at once—but the fact is, mine was the first year of squires to face ordeals after the killing devices appeared. It picked someone as soon as it knew someone was needed, that's all."

"Mmm, perhaps so. But it picked you, Lady Keladry."

"It didn't have a large choice, sire. There were only six of us, and of those one was no use to anyone—you know about Quinden, I imagine."

"Quinden? Oh, Marti's Hill. Vanget dismissed him, didn't he, with a snorter of a letter."

"I haven't seen the letter but he certainly dismissed him, with cause. So in effect there was me, Neal, Seaver, Esmond, and Faleron, who all came with me anyway."

"And you are the outstanding commander—the only commander—among them. Yes, alright—I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Because you were distracted by my being a woman, sire? I did tell you the elemental gave no sign of even recognising the fact, let alone caring. It's interested in results, not mortal prejudices."

Roald ghosted a wink. "I told you too, father. Kel's plainly the outstanding knight of our generation and while I like the others of her year well enough, except Quinden who's an ass, she must have been first choice. And I'm very glad she was because she did do what had to be done and I don't think the others would, not so quickly anyway. I saw those devices on the battlefield and I've never seen anything worse."

"I can't argue with that, Roald, but being in the north so much you don't realise how difficult this business has been politically. The death of Joren was bad enough—having his principal target treated so differently by the Chamber has compounded it severely."

Kel felt her temper spark. "I imagine it has, sire, but again, that is not the elemental's concern, nor should it be. I know no more than anyone about why it killed Joren, but as he was a

hate-filled and cruel boy who would have been an appalling knight and tyrannical lord I'm not complaining. And yes, there's friction as women reassert themselves after a long period, but it wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for a fat handful of lords who despise anyone they think weaker than themselves and like demeaning women. Frankly, sire, while I understand that as a voting block in the Council they slow the progress you can make, I've never understood why you seem to respect their prejudice so much."

The King's voice took on an edge. "It's more than a handful of lords, Lady Keladry, and their prejudice has deep roots."

"Is it, sire? Most knights who challenged me during the Progress were set on by Joren. One was Tirrsmont's son, another Torhelm's. How many people causing you problems are independent of Stone Mountain, Genlith, and Runnerspring?"

The King said nothing but glared at Numair's muttered 'None'.

"As to deep roots, again, I'm sorry but I disagree. I've had reason to study the history of women in Tortall very carefully, and I can find no sign of the restrictions some people claim as traditional before the rise of that ridiculous cult of the Gentle Mother in the third century. It found champions among over-pious nobles, like Baylisa of Disart, but it's hard to discount baser motives —she was involved with that Duke who was executed after the mages' revolt. It grew during the reigns of Roger II and Gareth, as an opposition focus. It's never had significant popular support outside fiefs whose lords enforce it as a justification of their own policies, it doesn't make sense below the middle classes, where women necessarily work hard, and you barely hear of it these days—they haven't replaced their leader since the last one was killed in the Immortals War. Besides, the Goddess showed plainly what she thinks of it when she chose Alanna."

Numair sighed. "You're completely right, Kel, and I've told him all that before. So has Sir Myles. And you've accelerated change among the middle-classes and nobility. Honestly, Jon, you ought to get behind the landslide, not wave your arms at it hoping it'll stop. If you didn't feel bad about forbidding Kally knight-training because the Carthakis wouldn't like it you would have, long ago."

Kel was fascinated by such an analysis but the King clearly wasn't and crossly wrenched discussion back to the Chamber.

"We must deal with Joren's death first, Lady Keladry, then I want Lord Burchard to leave. Inviting him was a superb move and might lance this thing cleanly, depending on what the Chamber says, but there are things I want to ask I'd as soon he wasn't privy to."

"If it says anything." Numair was twisting a ring. "It wasn't interested in our concerns about Shakith."

"Yes, yes, but Lady Keladry wasn't there. It won't ignore her." Kel shrugged. "We'll find out . May I ask what things, sire?"

"Bluntly, whether it intends to give anyone else such a task as it gave you, and if so whether it's willing to let us know. I don't want to interfere with it—I meant what I said about its incorruptibility—but suppose one of this year's knights or next's does something against orders and says he was just doing what it told him?"

It hadn't occurred to Kel that someone might falsely claim special privilege on the

elemental's behalf and she thought it improbable in the extreme, but also couldn't see a problem.

"In my case it made itself known, sire, so presumably it would again. And if you've any doubt ask the knight to re-enter the Chamber and declare their task done. Or use your truth spell."

It was Jonathan's turn to blink. "I cannot just use the truth spell on nobles whenever I feel like it, Lady Keladry."

"Why not? If they're telling the truth all's well, and if not they're lying to their king and ought to be stopped."

"It's in Our reciprocal oaths that no magic shall be used on a noble without consent. Has been since that mages' revolt you mentioned."

"Then add a rider excepting truth magic to all new oaths and let it spread naturally. It'd be a good thing all round. And as far as the elemental is concerned, order anyone claiming its patronage to report back to it."

"I suppose. The other I'll take under advisement."

"It's a good one, Jon. What arguments d'you think anyone could advance to say they should be allowed to lie to you?" Numair grinned. "And wouldn't you enjoy dealing with them?"

"I have to say I like it too, father. My truth spell's not as good as yours but I'll have someone who does have the juice, even for a lord with the Gift." Roald was thoughtful. "This came up with Shinko because she didn't understand why nobles could give sworn evidence in court or to the Council and refuse to be truth-spelled. They can't in Yaman."

Numair nodded. "Nor Carthak. I'm not sure about the Copper Isles but I can't see the Rittevons accepting such a limit on their power any more than Ozorne."

A smile glimmered on the King's face. "Alright, alright, you needn't gang up. I said I'll think about it. I'll ask Turomot too." He looked at Kel. "You do have a direct way, Lady Keladry, don't you? It tends to be alarming but it's clearly stood you in good stead."

Kel shrugged. "There's proper tact, sire, and going all round the houses when you've only to open the door. That's why I'm willing to try to talk to the elemental—maybe it'll tell us all to run along, as it did Numair, but fidgeting speculation about why it did this or that without trying to ask it directly seems a waste of time."

"Indeed. Then again, you seem to ask spidrens and other immortals about whatever's on your mind as well. Kings too, come to that."

"You think so, sire?" Kel's voice was cool. "I've never asked why you agreed to have me put on probation, didn't condemn my fear of heights, or allowed Joren to get away with a speech openly insulting your queen, arranged marriages for Roald and Princess Kalasin, and champion.

They were questions much on my mind, but I didn't ask them and never will."

"Ouch." The King regarded her quizzically while Roald tried to hide his smile. Numair didn't bother.

"All of us who know Kel have told you she doesn't ask many questions, Jon—nothing like enough when it comes to her own needs, though she's getting better." Numair winked at her. "She looks for an answer herself. What she does, consistently, is put things into question by not making the same wrong assumptions the rest of us are prone to."

Astonishment overcame Kel's indignation. "I make enough wrong assumptions of my own, then, Numair, to add to the stock."

"I don't think so, Kel." Roald shook his head. "Numair's right—you don't make assumptions the way most do. I could never decide if it was all the nonsense you face or seeing through Yamani eyes. Both, maybe."

The King nodded sharply. "I have to agree, Lady Keladry—you seem to make very few assumptions. You drew a wrong conclusion from inadequate evidence, thinking I'd punish you for having disobeyed Cavall, but we can all do that, and as he insisted we'd given you little reason to expect fairness. Even then one could say you weren't assuming success would pay for all transgressions, as many people do. When I thought about it I realised it was also because of how you felt about what had happened to your command in your forced absence. When people have consciences at all they can be odd like that." His face was distant with memory. "No matter. You're correct about trying to talk to the Chamber and it's time we did. Whatever his faults, and gods know they're legion, it would not be kind to keep Lord Burchard waiting on this matter. You're sure you don't want to come, Numair?"

"Not in the least, Jon. It told me to go away nicely last time and I've no wish to irritate it. In their own domains elementals as old as that one has to be are powerful things."

"Roald?"

"Not unless you think I must, father. I didn't enjoy my own Ordeal very much and I don't know how Kel's so calm about it."

"It's not like an Ordeal, Roald, truly. It … just shows up, in the face carved above the door lintel or in the earth, and talks."

"That infernal plain without anything in sight?"

"Yes."

"Then no thanks. Horrid place."

Kel found her sense of humour restored by Roald's exaggerated shudder. "I did ask it why it hadn't decorated with trees and birds or something but it got all huffy. It probably likes a nice bare desert."

Only Numair laughed, shaking his head. Two Conté men stared at her with identical expressions hovering between bemusement and shock. The King recovered first.

"You asked the Chamber of the Ordeal why it hadn't decorated its desert. And it got huffy. I don't blame it. Mithros!"

"I asked the elemental, sire, not the room it lives in. Would you like to live there permanently? Ordeals happen in people's heads anyway—it would make no difference if you whitewashed and furnished the room."

"Don't even think it. Gods preserve us from decorating women."

But he did smile this time, quite warmly, and making her farewells to Roald and Numair they went together, guards falling in behind as they left the private apartments. The first afternoon bell struck as they arrived and Lord Burchard was waiting, accompanied by two men in Stone Mountain livery. He was in unrelieved black, pale face and white-blond hair standing out in the gloom. He offered the King a stiff bow and to Kel's surprise made one to her as well. His voice was strained.

"Lady Knight, I have been told what happened last night and dissociate myself wholly from Torhelm. Angors was always blasphemous and a fool in his cups. I am neither, and do not oppose the gods' will."

Kel forbore to point out that in condemning female knights he did nothing but oppose the goddess. "Thank you, Lord Burchard."

He nodded jerkily. "You are generous, undertaking this. I spoke badly to you after Joren's death and I apologise. I was in shock."

Kel had little doubt he'd spoken badly of her many times. "Of course. There can be few griefs greater than a parent's for their child."

"There are none." His face became almost animated. "It possesses you. Food and company have no savour. Work is the only solace and what is the point when your best and eldest has been taken from you?"

Joren had two brothers and a sister; Kel winced at the bleakness of lives with such a father but her face showed nothing as the King nodded gravely and swung open the doors of the Chapel, urging Burchard forward. Over their shoulders Kel saw the room prepared as for an Ordeal, a lamp burning before the gold sun disc and a bench before the door of the Chamber. She was last in, closing the doors in the face of the King's guards and liveried men, but when she turned found she was expected to lead on, and bracing herself inside as she had so often walked forward and laid hands on the cold metal of the door.

"Elemental of the Chamber, I come with King Jonathan and Lord Burchard of Stone Mountain, who have asked me to question you on matters of high concern. Will you let us enter?"

She heard no answer save perhaps a sigh but the door gave under her hand and she walked into the small, bare stone room that held such strange power. The King was behind her, face austere, but Burchard hesitated, swallowing before forcing himself forward. The door swung closed and Kel's eyes went to the face carved above the lintel, where yellow eyes looked down at them all and thin stone lips never moved

What matters of high concern, Protector? I told that mage I will say nothing of Shakith or any god. They speak for themselves if they wish, as you found last night.

"It's not that." Kel realised the men had heard nothing when they looked surprise and followed her gaze to the carved face. "Three years ago, at Midwinter, a squire entered this Chamber and did not leave it alive. Joren of Stone Mountain. He was pale blond, as his father here."

What of it?

A sidelong glance told her she was still the only one hearing, and she didn't know if they could see the yellow eyes. Not good. "Many people besides Lord Burchard were shocked by Joren's death, and sorely puzzled. In the same year you rejected another squire, Vinson of Genlith, requiring confession of his crimes and punishing him with the harm he had done others."

So?

"You know mortal understandings are limited, and we are confused by the difference in your judgements and actions. It causes disturbance in the realm, as the King stands here to attest. Will you tell us why you judged so? I ask that you speak so we all hear—please do not burden me alone with knowledge none but you can ever confirm."

Very well. Kel felt a wave of relief as the King and Burchard stiffened, eyes turning to the carved face. You will not like what I have to say, Protector, if I do as you ask. Nor you, Lord of Stone Mountain.

"Please." Burchard was hoarse. "I must know why you killed my son."

I was the vessel of his death only. His heart burst with hatred in the test I set him. Would you know the details of his Ordeal?

"You made me fight, climb, and watch awful things I couldn't stop."

As I made him. Like you he fought well, and was strong. But the vision of friends and kin dying did not move him. Your death gladdened him, Lord of Stone Mountain, for he would inherit and chafed under your rule. Deaths of women excited him, for his mind was filled with desire to kill her who has become Protector of the Small—to kill, torture, and rape. To him the sum of knighthood was the power to do so. I made him live a world of female power, where the Protector was queen and the safety of his liege-people required loyal submission. He died rather than do so. The Black God took him safely.

Kel felt sick and the anguished noise Burchard made didn't help as he turned away, stumbling towards the door which swung open to let him pass. She heard him drop to his knees, anguish become retching, and before the smell could reach her spoke more sharply than she meant.

"Shut it again, please. Now."

It shut and yellow eyes looked at her with what might be surprise.

There is more?

"Sire?"

The King swallowed, looking deeply disturbed. "Ah—yes, Lord of the Chamber, there is

more."

Ask then, Jonathan of Conté. I serve your realm and will answer what serves that end.

"First, a clarification, if you will. Did Joren of Stone Mountain truly intend to kill Lady Keladry? Or only dream of it?"

He intended murder and had attempted it by proxy, paying knights to try to kill her on the field of honour. It was his hatred of you as all he could never be, Protector, that drew you to my closer attention, not only your repeated visits to my door.

"And why did you choose her to kill the necromancer?"

I chose the tool that would work. I told her I did not know when or where she would meet that mage but in visions of his death the knight who killed him always acted alone. The others of that year were good knights, save one who barely passed my test, but I did not think they would act alone as the timeway required. Why does this matter to you?

"Because you are a cornerstone of my realm, and your decision to give the first known Lady Knight in more than a century a special task has had … repercussions."

Stone couldn't shrug but Kel felt an equivalent in her mind and abruptly they stood on the earthen plain, bare even of grass and without a cloud in the sky. The face formed in earth before

them.

This is the context in which I judge squires, Jonathan of Conté, without distraction. Mortal ephemera is not my concern. Why you ceased to send me female squires I never understood for it greatly weakens your realm, and their return pleases me. The Protector is the strongest knight you have sent in a long while, since your Lioness and the Lord of Goldenlake. Should I not use her to your realm's best advantage?

Kel was bothered if the elemental would make her blush but its words rang her heart with joy. She had always known she'd been very lucky in Raoul as a knight master, but she'd been deprived of contact with Alanna for so long, and to know herself joined with her childhood heroine in the elemental's mind was a testimony she'd never expected.

"I am glad you did, Lord of the Chamber. But if you should again need to give a new knight a special task, will you tell Us? Or Our heir, Roald, when he shall sit on Our throne? I will gladly swear to support that task, whatever it may be, or do nothing, if you so command, but to be ignorant of such a thing is … onerous to a king. And unsafe."

There was what seemed to Kel a long silence, though it probably wasn't more than a few moments—bare earth and windless air made time very abstract. The King looked at her once or twice but she silently indicated they should wait.

I make no promise, Jonathan of Conté. None but the Great Gods can command me, nor will I command a mortal king. But I will say I do not believe it likely I will need to assign further tasks, as I did to the Protector. I have done so only once before her, and even should another necromancer arise to disgust the gods he or she will not stand so close to the roil in the timeway that we approach. The voice became what Kel thought of as disgruntled. It is only in recent years Conté kings have ceased to speak to me about each set of squires. Do you wish to reinstitute the custom?

The King looked very surprised. "What custom? To speak to you about squires? I've never heard of such a thing."

Your knowledge is at fault. Your grandfather Jasson was the last to do so, early in his reign. He said he would be absent from Corus the following year, and never came again. Your father I only ever spoke to at his Ordeal, as I had spoken to you only once before the Protector.

"What was it the custom to speak of? And how was it done?"

On the night after the last ordeal each Midwinter the king would come, and we spoke of fitness and unfitness I had found, new knights' strengths and weaknesses, the realm's needs. It was part of my service.

The King shook his head ruefully. "We have forgotten much, it seems. Thank you for reminding Us, Lord of the Chamber. I will come on the night after the last Ordeal."

Kel was fascinated by the jumping pronouns of the King and the man the elemental insisted on, Jonathan of Conté, but she had no time to think about either.

Very well. Is that all, Protector?

"Not quite. I have two questions." She glanced at the King, again looking surprised, and subdued embarrassment. "One is personal but I am content the King hear it. The other concerns you and the realm."

Ask then.

She looked around, delaying, and a thought struck her. "You read our minds, yes? Our thoughts and memories and emotions?"

You know I do. The voice seemed unusually patient.

"So you know what has happened to me in the last six months?"

You have suffered and achieved much. The gods echo in you.

"Yes, well. I know you like your desert but can you put us at New Hope? On the gatehouse roof, on a sunny day?"

Seamlessly they were there, New Hope behind them, neatly ordered but deserted, the Greenwoods valley stretched before them. Though she knew it for illusion the familiar view was a comfort and Kel felt something in her relax. For the King, however, all was surprise.

"Mithros! This is New Hope?" He took a step to the parapet and leaned through a crenel, peering down. "Gods, it is a stronghold, isn't it?"

Pulling himself back he walked round, looking at the double palisade and killing field, then over the shelf and main level stretching away to terrace and shrines. When he spoke his voice was warm.

"Formidable, Lady Keladry, truly. Lord of the Chamber, can you create anywhere in my realm like this?"

The thin -lipped face appeared on a merlon. If I have encountered one who knows it. Much of your realm is within my knowledge. If you have need you may ask to see a place you do not know yourself. I did this for your forebears long ago, but that custom too passed. What were your questions, Protector?

Kel steeled herself. "May I speak of my Ordeal?"

I have never forbidden any person to speak of what I do. It is a mortal custom to insist on silence about it.

"Mithros!"

"I thought as much." Kel's voice overlapped the King's but her eyes were resting on a distant slope, beyond Haven. "So. In my Ordeal, as in the visions given through your door, you made me watch everyone I love and like die, horribly—all my deepest fears. But I realised after the tauros that one thing you never did was threaten or use rape. Why not?"

Why should I? Something that might be distaste curled in the mindvoice. It was no deep fear of yours then nor mortal mating any part of your knowledge. What purpose would it serve so to test you?

"None, I hope. Yet those who oppose female knights speak insistently of what you call mating. I think you should be testing them."

What do you mean?

"It links with my second question. You said last year a squire barely passed your test. I'm guessing that was Quinden of Marti's Hill."

It was.

"Do you know what happened to him?"

Has he died? That happens. He was a weak fighter with a streak of treachery but with the war the realm needs knights.

The indifference chilled Kel. "No, he didn't die—he caused serious disciplinary problems and was dismissed from service. And as much as Joren he seems to hate and despise women."

Yes, such hatred was in his mind, including hatred of you, Protector, but he had no plans to kill you and I let him pass.

"Well, he says he has such plans now. And there are other knights with the same hatred— Ansil and Arknor of Groten, Voelden of Tirrsmont, Belar of Heathercove, Guisant of Torhelm, and his father Angors, whom three gods struck down last night for suggesting I'd seduced Lord Mithros. And the other knight with him, Garvey of Runnerspring." The thing that most rankled and appalled spilled from her lips. "When Guisant heard me say I'd died of the tauros rape his first reaction before confusion set in was pleasure. The thought thrilled him."

She heard the King exclaim but her attention was on the elemental, whose face seemed to

frown.

I read the truth of what you say in your mind, Protector. You believe I should not have passed these men, nor those who hate women as they do? All could fight well.

"I call them a danger and a disgrace to the realm. But I'm not trying to say who you should

or shouldn't pass. I'm saying you should test for such hatred as a weakness. You hammer people with their deepest fears. Well and good. What you don't do, or never did to me, is tempt them with their basest desires. A knight should be chivalrous as well as strong. You test for strength, always, but not chivalry. And men carry from here the sanction of knighthood, though they poison the realm with minds that cannot separate anything from their own desires to rut."

There was another silence. Kel met the King's eyes defiantly but said nothing as she watched him grapple with what she'd already said.

Jonathan of Conté, do you share the Protector's concern?

Kel knew the elemental could read both their minds but didn't care, and her gaze dared the King to say to her face that he would allow such men to be knights in full knowledge of their vileness. After a tense moment he nodded.

"Lord of the Chamber, I do. I cannot deny I wonder how each man Lady Keladry named became a knight and wish them to perdition."

There will be more failures.

The King took a deep breath. "Then there must be more failures."

"Tell them why they fail when you release them—that they are not incapable of fighting but of protecting the weak as knights are sworn to do. That knighthood is more than capable butchery and a knight more than a tauros in mail." Kel's voice was passionate but she hadn't wholly forgotten politics. "You will be talking to the King after each year's Ordeals so he will know. And the training master can know also—it was Wyldon's failure not to know this, because in his own honour he could not imagine the minds of Joren and Vinson and to him they concealed their baseness. But they could not conceal it from you, and you denied them."

I will think about it, Protector. Stone lips couldn't smile any more than stone could shrug. I said you would do nicely. Is that all?

"Yes, thank you." Kel looked down and the King's voice startled her.

"Is it possible for me to walk around New Hope while I am here?"

The mindvoice was very dry. The Protector's knowledge of her command is extremely detailed. Go where you will, but swiftly.

A surprised Kel found herself giving the strangest tour yet. Everything was solid and complete but the absence of people was disconcerting and she concentrated on the layered defences. As they stood on the North Tower roof the King looked at her sidelong.

"You didn't say you had your own agenda, Lady Keladry."

"I didn't altogether know it, sire, until I heard why Joren died and that Quinden barely passed."

"You'd been thinking about it, though."

"And last night you heard why. Torhelm was grosser and more blasphemous but the tenor of his words was no surprise to me."

He winced. "It was grotesque. I can't say you're wrong."

They continued round the alure to the cliffs and descended to the terrace. The shrines glittered strangely and Kel stopped, staring.

"They don't usually look like that but Takemahou-sensei said they were filled with godlight. The elemental must be adding it.

You are correct, Protector. Even in your mind I perceive the traces of the gods' blessings

here.

Kel thought of dedications and an idea struck her—she and the King were within the shallow bay so they wouldn't be in the way. She fixed the image in her mind, from Quenuresh's bulk to Kitten and Junior.

"Can you add the immortals, as they were at the dedications?" Silently they appeared, unmoving as statues. "Thank you."

"Mithros!" The King took an involuntary step back. "That's Quenuresh? She's huge. Roald said she was but seeing her is different."

"Isn't it? I tried to tell Macayhill and the others—you have to live with her and learn trust. You can't command it." She named the other immortals. "We held a first council when I left. It was odd but worked."

Unsure, she led him round the still immortals and down to the caves. They were there too, but she felt the elemental's patience wearing thin and went no further than the main cavern, mentioning what lay elsewhere. When they climbed back to the main level it shimmered and vanished, leaving them in the bare Chamber with the dimmest light.

Kel bowed to the stone face. "Thank you."

You are welcome, Protector. It was not such a bad name after all, was it? Go now and protect someone else.

The door swung open, letting in the light of the Chapel beyond. The King blinked. "Why are you glaring at the carving, Lady Keladry? Did it speak?" "It was being sarcastic."

"Sarcastic? Mithros! I won't ask. Come, I've no idea how long we've been in here but I want true daylight again."

In the Chapel a damp patch showed where Lord Burchard's lunch had been cleaned away, but a sour reek lingered in the air and with mutual haste Kel and the King crossed to the doors. At his enquiry one guard said it had been only a few minutes before Lord Burchard stumbled out and they'd seen what had happened and summoned a servant; it had been barely half-a-candle-mark since they'd all gone in.

"Now that's like an Ordeal."

Kel agreed, and they went together in silence, parting at the foot of the stairway to the private apartments. Before the King had taken a dozen steps up he clattered down again, calling her back and asking the guards to stand away.

"Lady Keladry, I owe you far greater thanks than I have yet offered, and my indebtedness grows every hour, it seems. The last two days have been one amazement after another. And New Hope is astonishing, as a fort and a model of treaty peace. There are reasons I have bestowed no greater reward on you that you will soon learn, but I would not have you think me unappreciative."

That un-Yamani frankness that came closer to Kel's surface with every experience gripped her. "Thank you, sire. I don't do anything in hope of reward, but if you're feeling grateful don't ever set me up again as you did yesterday. I'll play the goat if you ask it with fair reason but not blind. It's wrong, needlessly. And if we're going to speak like this, please, it's Keladry. There's a limit to how much ladyship I can take."

He looked at her with what in another man she'd have called admiration but that was

absurd.

"I think there will be few limits otherwise, Keladry. A Councillor who speaks plainly without fear or favour is worth a great deal to any king." Something settled in his eyes. "It will take a while to arrange but Torhelm's seat is yours and will remain so irrespective of what happens with New Hope. To hinder your passage to knighthood was the single stupidest thing I've done since I proposed to Alanna." He ignored Kel's complete confusion. "I say this to few but I have said it to your father in matters of Yaman, and say it to you in respect of immortals under treaty at New Hope, or others who come there. If there is no time to ask but you need my authority, you have it, without fear of traducement. I will not forget."

He turned and was gone again, leaving Kel speechless. The seat on the Council was a shock and not altogether welcome, but would serve New Hope well and she wasn't unaware she'd be the first knight of her generation on the Council as well as a second Mindelan seat. The covert authority was interesting too, and effectively ratified her offer to Queen Barzha, which was useful. But … the King had proposed to Alanna? And been refused, presumably. When did that happen, and what was the story? Kel didn't usually relish gossip but this was far too good to pass up and she went in search of Alanna to find out.

After gratifying her curiosity with an entirely scurrilous saga that left Kel having to remember to keep her mouth closed—disguised squire and knight master? and the Rogue?—the conversation turned inevitably to the Chamber and a while later Kel found herself in an improbable meeting with Alanna, Wyldon, and Padraig. She relayed what the elemental had said and each point brought intense discussion—Joren's death, its indifference to whether people spoke of their Ordeals and duty of meeting the King each Midwinter, mapping ability, her request for a new kind of testing. She found herself nervous about Wyldon's reaction to the last but he was supportive.

"I've thought a lot about what you said, Keladry, and come to the conclusion you were exactly right. A lad like Genlith should not be a knight—no-one can dispute that—and neither should a man like Torhelm. I'm sorry it should have to be tested for, but it's plain it should."

Not having known Joren Padraig was shocked by the elemental's revelation of corruption, but as a fair-minded man had no quarrel with the exclusion of anyone similar, though the thought of increased failures was deeply unwelcome. Kel was blunt.

"Why don't you read all new pages key passages from the Code of Chivalry, Padraig? Tell them from the first the elemental tests all of it—protecting those weaker than you, living to honour your kingdom and gods, not just defend them, not refusing any cry for help from man, woman, or child. It's all there—it's just some of it's slipped in practice, like annual meetings and other things the elemental will do."

"Yes, that's sound advice, Keladry." He sighed. "It's only that, well, the Chamber's always been the great mystery, above everything and everyone. It's disconcerting to find it thinks we've been ignoring it and wants to talk. I wonder why Jasson let that custom lapse—it seems a very odd thing to do."

Kel had been thinking about that. "It said it was early in his reign and he warned it he'd be away next year—which sounds like the winter campaign against Barzun, when he was injured. I've had no chance to check but I recall he was unconscious for a while, a day at least."

"That's right." Wyldon was definite. "It's in Emry of Haryse. They were worried about him. You think he forgot after injury?"

"Or thought about it differently."

"And if only he knew …" Alanna nodded thoughtfully.

"Exactly. That's why I've told you all, so a pool of people know."

"Good thinking." Alanna and Wyldon spoke in unison and looked at one another in horror before Alanna cackled and Wyldon winced.

"Kel, you've spanked the Council, called three gods down on Torhelm, and solved a mystery we didn't even know existed, but that's nothing to getting Cavall and me to agree. Goddess, what are you going to do next?"

On Longnight Eve it began to snow, and before the storm eased four days later everything became a wonderland. It meant Owen could do little on the day before his Ordeal but mooch around the

Palace, until Kel and Wyldon took him to the indoor practice courts to burn off nervous energy sparring with glaives borrowed from the pages. Having seen how devastatingly she used it he'd been experimenting, and Wyldon, if now interested, was a novice, so Kel taught them a pattern dance with the benefit of inducing meditative calm. Afterwards they sent him to have dinner with his father, ate companionably, arguing merits of glaive, spear, and halberd, and met him again at the Chapel when the hour came.

To instruct a candidate for knighthood was a special responsibility and Kel felt the honour keenly. Neither she nor Wyldon had said anything to Owen about contact with the elemental, and had no fears for his temper of mind, but as they spoke the phrases of the Code she wondered if it was listening. She had reluctantly agreed not to stay in the Chapel during Owen's vigil, as Turomot had for her, lest anyone suspect interference—the opposite of Turomot's reasoning and an unwelcome irony, however sensible. But she was there with the children, Wyldon, and many people, including Owen's pacing father, to see him stagger out, hectic but triumphant.

"Not even a bit jolly," he said as they surrounded him with congratulations , "but being a knight at last is. Bandits here I come."

Wyldon took him and his father off, and at sunset Kel saw the King knight him in the Great Hall. Next dawn she saw Prosper emerge, equally exhausted and relieved, and the dinner Padraig gave two evenings later for all six new knights with their knight masters and second instructors was an interesting innovation. It brought Kel into contact with people she knew only by sight, and if there was a wary courtesy in the way everyone treated her she wasn't complaining. None of those who knew mentioned that the King would be entering the Chamber that evening, though it was on their minds, but Kel and Wyldon were asked if they knew what Quinden had done to enrage General Vanget, and made it clear his crime had been to endanger men he'd been leading. The conversation turned to responsibilities of command and Kel was surprised to realise she had more experience than anyone at the table except Wyldon and Padraig, but more pleased with professional respect than wariness of divine intervention—the only good thing about which was that no-one was prepared to ask about her experience of dying.

She also had other things on her mind, and though she wouldn't have told Owen for the world one had been more memorable than even the honour of instructing him. On Midwinter morning, after she and the children exchanged gifts they'd collected outdoor gear in hope of a good snowfight and taken presents for Numair, Daine, and Kitten to their rooms. Everyone was left very pleased with one another: Kel gained a black opal Numair had managed to rig to let her activate spellmirrors, Giftless as she was, and the children a clever Carthaki toy whose irregular wooden blocks fitted together in scores of ways; Numair appreciated his jerkin, embroidered with stars, while Daine was tearfully grateful for the thought but cheered by dark green trousers to accommodate her pregnancy. For Kitten they'd found a fine model of the Palace, complete with towers and finials, that Kel had an amused Tkaa petrify. The dragonet was happily lighting it in a rainbow of colours when she sat bolt upright, magic winking out.

Grandsire is coming!

Daine's and Numair's rooms had an additional outside door to allow four-legged visitors to come to them directly, and a piercing trill had it swinging wide for Kitten to charge out. Snowflakes swirled in and a cursing Daine struggled up while Numair pushed it to until they could all don outside gear and follow. Nearly a foot of snow proved a greater obstacle than Kitten had anticipated, and they caught up with her determinedly ploughing along half-way to the horse-meadows adjoining the Forest. Chuckling, Numair scooped her up, brushing off snow and setting her on his shoulders. Horses and ponies had been stabled when snow began and the field was empty, but Daine had them wait.

"Diamondflame needs a fair space to land."

After cold moments in which they saw nothing but snowflakes Daine cocked an eyebrow at Kitten, whose snout was turned skyward.

"Sure he's coming now, Kit? Did he speak or did you sense him?"

"Something's happening, magelet." Numair's long nose was also pointing up. "The spiral spell, I think."

Kel's question led to an explanation that didn't leave her much wiser and broke off as a vast, dark shape passed overhead, disappearing again into the snowstorm before reappearing much lower and cupping massive wings to settle surprisingly lightly in the field. Diamondflame was huge, even with wings furled, black against the snow save for a golden crest, and Kel instinctively hung back clutching Tobe's and Irnai's hands tightly as Kitten leaped clean over Numair's head and began ploughing through the snow towards him, trilling fit to burst. Seeing her the great dragon flicked out a paw, one silver claw extended, and a line of flame melted snow in Kitten's path in a heartbeat. Ploughing became a headlong rush, but as she reached him she skidded to a halt, bowed deeply, and bounced into a welcoming paw that grasped her, clearly talking twenty-nine to the dozen, never mind nineteen. Daine and Numair followed, Kel and the children cautiously trailing, fascinated but unwilling to intrude. She realised Diamondflame wasn't black but the darkest blue, like the ink of tentacle-fish that washed up at Mindelan. Eyes larger even than Kawit's surveyed them benevolently.

Greetings, Godborn, and to you, Numair Salmalín. My granddaughter seems in high spirits and to have progressed remarkably. Diamondflame's mindvoice was astounding, as rich and deep as a great singer's but crackling with power, impossible age audible—or whatever a mindvoice was. You have looked after her well, and the debt is acknowledged. Wingstar and Rainbow send greetings.

"Thank you. And ours to them, Diamondflame. Kit's been no trouble and she's worked hard at magic and understanding mortals. Kawit's spell enabling her to speak to us has been a great help."

I would think so. Amusement rolled in the voice. Though it is not exactly a spell, but an ancient magic inhering in opal dragons even I had forgotten. It is long since one of my cousins walked in the world and I look forward to seeing Kawit—it is three score centuries since we spoke.

She was asleep for twenty, Grandsire, but I am very glad I woke her up. Not being able to talk to anyone was very frustrating and she and the basilisk Tkaa have taught me much since then. Look!

Sitting in the huge paw Kitten trill-croaked a complicated sequence and each of Diamondflame's great silver claws, longer than the blade of Kel's glaive, flashed a different colour.

That is excellent, Skysong. There are dragons with a century for each of your years who cannot do as much. Perhaps I should send them to dwell in the mortal realms also.

Kel was bemusedly contemplating an influx of dragonets on mortal furlough when she was aware of the dragon's gaze.

Will you introduce your friends, Skysong? One youngling sparkles with Shakith's gift, the other with the wild magic of horses, while the woman is radiant with lingering godlight.

Oh, I'm sorry. Grandsire, this is Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small. The Graveyard Hag played a trick on her she did not like, but the Goddess and Black God have favoured her and six days ago with Mithros they struck down a mortal who was upsetting her. The boy is her adopted son, Tobeis, and the girl Irnai of Rathhausak. Kel rescued her from the Scanran king no-one likes. Kel, Tobe, Irnai, this is my grandsire Diamondflame. He is the most important dragon of all except Rainbow Windheart and fought with us in the Immortals War.

Kel and both children had completed deep bows long before Kitten finished and saw Diamondflame's eyes spark with interest.

Thank you, Skysong, and greetings, Lady Knight Keladry, Tobeis, Irnai. I felt gods move together and wondered what they were about. One mortal upsetting another does not seem sufficient cause.

"Um, he was very blasphemous, my Lord, and gods have been watching me lately. Queen Barzha Razorwing of the Stone Tree Nation says the timeway rests on me, though I have no idea why it should."

That is interesting. Barzha Razorwing is wise, as stormwings go.

She gave Kel the skulls of some tauroses Kel killed and she made a skullroad. Barzha said they did it because of an old skullroad lined with dragon skulls. Kitten's indignation was undiminished. Is that true?

Diamondflame's gaze became a palpable weight. A skullroad? That is an ancient term. I cannot know why stormwings do anything they do, Skysong—they are their own creatures though their eyries border our lands—but it is true a skullroad in the Divine Realms was created during the Godwars. There is a dragonsong about it, and a godsong. Lady Knight, there is a tale here, plainly. Perhaps we might go somewhere and hear it.

Kel bowed again. "Of course, my Lord, but I have no idea where you might, ah, fit." Dimensions present no difficulty. I go where I will.

"Kawit's stable-block is nearest," Daine suggested, "and I know she's looking forward to seeing you too."

Very well. Let us go.

What followed was the strangest day of Kel's life, tauroses and gods notwithstanding. At the stables Kawit was waiting, swishing snow with her tail, and welcomed them. How Diamondflame fitted into a building smaller than he was Kel had no idea, but doors, walls, and ceiling somehow bulged out of his way and he entered with ease, settling along one wall with Kawit opposite him and everyone else grouped round their heads; Kitten again snuggled into one huge paw, a mouse on a mountain. Seeing the mortals retained coats Diamondflame waved his other forepaw and walls and floor became warm to the touch, soon heating the whole block sufficiently that layers were shed. Irnai settled against Kawit, smiling at the dragon's heat, and a surprised Tobe found himself sent to inform the King who had arrived and returned even wider-eyed than he'd left, with Jonathan, Thayet, Roald, and Shinko, who all bowed greetings and settled to listen. By then Kel was deep in her tale of what the elemental and assorted gods had been saying to her and how the skullroad had come to be, passing over her death while feeling she didn't fool Diamondflame for one minute. He let out a breath redolent with heat and spices.

The gods' concern with chaos-touched tauroses makes sense, but their number may be

coincidence. Still, I share Barzha's suspicion, and anything that induces stormwings to boil seven skulls clean is worth thought. This gathering of kinds at New Hope is interesting also—and Quenuresh as sensible a spidren as I have met. I wondered when I heard of the treaty between ogres, mortals, and the People at Dunlath, but this is closer to the mark. Is there anything else you can say about the skullroad, Keladry? Perhaps something you think trivial?

Wondering what mark he meant Kel hesitantly mentioned the way the stormwings had piled up skulls, almost as a sculpture, and added with some embarrassment the soldiers' nicknames for them.

That is as strange as anything in this tale, for the gods did as much for the dragonskulls set in their road. Language then was not as it is now, but the names of those dragons might be rendered as Firebreath, Golden Eggs, and their five kits; their skulls became, in your idiom, let me see, Cinders, Yolky, Flinders, Croaky, Parcel, Morsel, and Runt. It was the contempt for the kits that enraged dragons to their revenge.

Kel didn't know where to look. "I'm sorry. I'll remove the skulls."

Your feeling does you honour but there is no need. Tauroses have neither names nor mates nor young. None will take offence or revenge. What intrigues me is that no mortal could have known this tale, nor would any god speak of it, even Crooked Kyprioth. Barzha must be right about the timeway's spiral.

"I didn't really understand about that, I'm afraid, my Lord."

Mortal perceptions of time are limited. Even such as young Irnai, who sometimes see the timeway through Shakith's eyes, cannot grasp it as dragons and gods do. And we do not control what we understand. The timeway is how all that might be refines itself into what will be and is. It existed before Father Universe and Mother Flame and will exist after them. It has patterns of its own making.

"Its own making?"

Yes. It is not a being one talks with but far more than blind force.

"Huh. May I ask what you meant when you said New Hope was nearer the mark than Dunlath?"

Prophecies speak of a time when all will live in peace together but it has not been so since the Godwars broke the peace of the beginning. And never in the mortal realm. I learned of Dunlath through Skysong even as Uusoae came close to bringing about the ending of all things that she desires. Now you build peace between kinds in the face of war. It may mean nothing but it is interesting.

Kel didn't want more prophecies, however interesting. "Is there anything I should do?"

Continue as you have, striving with honour for what matters. None can do more and it is plain the gods who see possible outcomes guide you as they can. They seem sincere. But I will come to see this skullroad if Rainbow does not think it unwise. A skullroad is dragon business.

Kel had to be satisfied and talk broadened, wandering through Irnai's and Tobe's experiences, Daine's encounters with her parents and difficulties of being a pregnant shapeshifter, Numair's researches and Kitten's progress, Kawit's impressions of the mortal realms after her two-thousand-year nap, Roald's and Shinko's marriage, and affairs of Tortall, including treaties with immortals, alliances, the war, killing devices, necromancy, and King Maggur's methods of

obedience. Hearing the King's impressive voice sound thin beside the weight of Kawit's and impossible depth of Diamondflame's Kel found perspectives expanded even more than by her sense of Quenuresh's and Tkaa's ages.

The mortal need for lunch—fortunately not shared by dragons—was dealt with by relays of pasties, but in mid-afternoon Jonathan and Thayet reluctantly left for duties not even Midwinter spared them. Tobe and Irnai were getting restless and Kel thought she'd best get them some exercise before heading to her parents' townhouse for the evening, but Kitten was fidgety too and to Kel's astonishment Kawit, eyeing the dragonet, proposed a snow fight.

It is centuries since I saw such a snowstorm, but Skysong has told me about throwing balls of it and it sounds an enjoyable game.

What followed was surreal. Diamondflame declined to do more than observe on the grounds that he was too large a target but the others found themselves involved in pitched battle. Roald and Shinko proved a dangerous pair, while Kawit's ability to become invisible was offset by the snowless dragon-shape she left in the air, as well as Kitten's considerable and Numair's limited ability to pinpoint her anyway. Daine couldn't shapeshift into an ice-bear but pregnancy didn't stop her transforming one arm and hand to scoop larger missiles and throw them harder, teaming up with Kitten to track Kawit and with the children to ambush Kel and Numair. Shrieks, snorts, and trills of laughter brought ostlers, guards, servants, and a stray priest to see what was happening, stopping in shock when they saw Diamondflame crouched beside the railings; but he welcomed them with reassurances and spread a vast wing to provide shelter against the flakes that continued to fall. Thereafter hits were cheered or groaned and encouragement shouted, especially for the children and Kit, and when the dragonet managed to scramble up Kawit's tail to her back —apparently walking on air—and place a snowball Tobe tossed to her squarely on the opal dragon's head there was applause. Declaring Kit the winner Kawit let her stay there as they headed in, grinning at the enchanted audience, and Diamondflame reheated the stable so efficiently everyone was soon warm again.

As night fell the mortals left the dragons to talk, Kawit promising to return Kitten to Daine's and Numair's rooms. Their outside staircase being the quickest way back they went together, Numair starting to pull at the story of skullroad and timeway and Kel determined to worry about neither.

"There's nothing I can do, Numair, and they're even more of a distraction than prophecy." She rested a hand on Irnai's shoulder. "Besides, I may do better not knowing—if I had known about this dragon skullroad I'd never have allowed the tauros skulls to be made into one."

He didn't disagree but his speculation continued in a mumble and they left him to it, parting from Daine with a hug and hurrying to change and head for another family dinner. Whether Adie and Orie entirely believed Tobe and Irnai had spent the day with three dragons was doubtful, though Kel solemnly assured them it was true, but with her sisters newly warm to her and more gifts exchanged to delight the children it capped the happiest as well as strangest Midwinter Kel remembered since Yamani childhood.

The King's Ball closed the celebrations as the Queen's Ball began them, and Kel and the children received magnificent invitations more-or-less commanding them to attend. Her parents were suspiciously insistent all Mindelans go together and when she asked Wyldon what was happening

he was irritatingly mysterious. When Lalasa brought her another new dress, in the same style and colour but more elaborately embroidered and in extremely fine wool—a gift from Thayet she could hardly refuse and was expected to wear—Kel started to feel quite cranky.

She solaced herself by going to see the women she'd lent money. The children stayed with Kitten, disconsolate since Diamondflame's departure despite his reported promise to return next Midwinter as she had made such excellent progress. The storm had stopped but the snow was too deep to clear, and its crust, melting in the bright sunshine that followed, refroze hard and icy each night so no-one was risking horses. Lalasa had walked to the palace, in excellent boots and a wool cape with furred hood that reassured Kel she was spending some money on herself, and they walked to the city together. Versions of what had happened at the Queen's Ball had come to Lalasa's ears, and after hesitant enquiries Kel decided at least one true one ought to join them, and was surprised by Lalasa's practical reaction.

"I'm sorry you experienced that, my Lady, and to die of it, well, that's as bad as can be. But if being forced is a lot worse than some men are willing to admit, it's doesn't have to be the end of the world as others say either. I found that out thanks to Uncle Gower and you. And you're here and alive doing a world of good, you seem happier, and the creatures who did it are dead, so I'll thank the Goddess and Black God for preserving you. And set people straight. Did that Lord of Torhelm really say such a disgusting thing? I can scarcely believe it."

Kel had always suspected that Lalasa's abuse by her family had included rape and found her strength in having recovered without divine aid deeply admirable. She said as much, bringing a flush to Lalasa's cheeks, before confirming just how obscenely blasphemous Torhelm had been and that he'd been dismissed the council and banished court. Then she pushed conversation to what could be done for other women who fell victim, and they discussed healers and temple help that might be procured. Lalasa was sanguine but again unexpectedly cheerful.

"It'll never stop, my Lady, but the classes and other things have already made a difference. This tale will make more."

"What other things?"

"Well, it's not proper to say to you, my Lady, but the Rogue's made it known he'll act against anyone who forces a woman, and made an example of a man who didn't believe him. He'll not be doing it again." There was satisfaction in Lalasa's voice, but she hesitated. "And you might not like this but I heard a story that a woman in trouble in a tavern shouted she was a Protector's Maid and bought herself time to run. I'm sorry, my Lady—I meant it as a joke, but it's spread and the women you've hired do like it, so I'm afraid it'll stick."

Kel shrugged. "If it has that effect, Lalasa, good luck to it. The King made Protector of the Small an official title. I don't know if it means anything, mind, and I'm not sure he does either— he was trying to hold the Queen's Ball together after Torhelm was struck down—but I'm stuck with it so I might as well use it. And if that's what these women want, that's what they get."

Lalasa was pleased and Kel took advantage to press her again to drop the my-Ladying— meeting familiar resistance with a new suggestion for compromise, the Lady Kel standard at New Hope.

"You know I've never been comfortable with noble address—it's such a palaver—but I've grown used to Lady Kel from soldiers and it keeps things reasonable. Now they only my-Lady me when I'm cross with them or they're up on a charge, so I'd much rather start off with these women as Lady Kel too and I wish you'd introduce me as that. It ought to be respectful enough for anyone who cares about proprieties, but it's friendly rather than stand-offish."

Lalasa herself cared about proprieties in ways Kel had never understood but knew had to do with more than gratitude or protective vocatives that larded servants' speech. Kel might think her as friend rather than maid but while Lalasa joyfully counted herself a friend also it did not displace awareness of noble status, and for all the personal confidence she'd found she remained in most ways far more conservative than Kel had ever been, imbibing a reasoned political liberalism with mother's milk and diplomatic tolerance at her father's knee. It wasn't conservatism of Stone Mountain's kind or Turomot's, but it wasn't much less suspicious of innovation than Wyldon and she gave Lalasa time to mull as they came to cleared parts of Palace Way and could walk faster.

"Alright, my—Lady Kel. If that's what you want it seems wrong to object thought I think it's a dreadful liberty for those soldiers to call you by your name—a nickname too!"

"Not really. When you fight alongside someone, or share latrine duty, or slog through mud up to your knees there's respect enough without more formalities than are needed."

"Latrine duty? Why on earth would you be doing that?"

"Oh, I put myself on all the rosters—it means no-one else can object and shows I'm not the kind of commander who won't get my hands dirty. And rotating through once in a while, even now, keeps me on top of what's happening—they're more likely to make a request or a complaint if they're working with me than if I tuck myself away in headquarters."

Lalasa nodded dubiously but Kel was saved further argument when they reached the first new premises, shared by a woman with a flair for cakes and pastries and her cousin, who made jams from every fruit and berry Kel had ever heard of and more besides. Feeling fatter and having placed a substantial jam order for New Hope, they went on to the doll-maker and collected one with hair red enough to delight Meech sideways. Kel tried to pay but was briskly refused, and as the woman had heard Meech's story and said she was giving it to the boy there was nothing to do but graciously accept, and place another order for New Hope's children. Kel did manage to escape gifts from a lacemaker, a woman who made window-curtains, drapes, and cushions, and a laundress specialising in finery who offered to have a go at her smoke-smutted dresses, but she left the last premises, an art shop, with a beautiful small drawing of herself arriving in Corus with Alanna and the children; it embarrassed her but she knew Tobe would love it. As she walked Lalasa back to her own shop she wondered how the artist, a young woman from the deep slum of Mutt Piddle Lane, could make a living.

"The work's beautiful, Lalasa, and she's obviously very talented. I'm just surprised enough people would spend money on such a luxury."

"Oh, the drawings are only part of it, my—Lady Kel." Kel grinned. "Tcha, I'll get used to it. She sketches for me, to show what a dress'll be like, and sometimes ladies ordering want a copy, a separate commission. She gets portrait work too, children mostly, and she's a knack for faces. She's done it for kin and friends since she was a girl, with charcoal, and been paid a little, so it's just putting it on a proper basis."

Lalasa invited her in but Tom was there and the children would be waiting, so she declined and set off back to the Palace. People skittered out of her way, bowing, and she smiled back as openly as she could manage but made a point of standing aside herself for anyone burdened with children or elderly. On the snowy part of Palace Way she scooped up a crying little whose feet went from under him and presented him to the elder sister who came running back from whatever had distracted her; the simple practicality restored her good humour, and Tobe's reaction to a picture that included him was all she had hoped.

Dressing for the ball Kel was surprised and nervous when Irnai offered to duplicate

Lalasa's efforts with eye-shadow and turned out to have been given some by Adie, but the girl's fingers were gentle and precise, the results just as good. The dress was also as splendid to wear as it had looked, and as they went to meet her family at her father's office Kel felt as reconciled as she ever did to high festivities. At least the chances of anyone offering her insult this time were non-existent.

Her confidence about that wavered when she realised Conal was present, but he kept aloof, nodding curt greeting and standing apart. Her parents' dress surprised her—normally both wore either Tortallan or Yamani dress, but tonight her mother was in a new kimono-set, with the Mindelan owl and Seabeth-and-Seajen fouled anchor, while her father wore a rich Mindelan tunic and breeches. Her sisters and their husbands were also dressed to the nines, but when she managed to ask Orie what was going on her sister shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Kel, but it's plain Papa's getting some honour—he's been like a cat on hot bricks all week."

Ortien nodded. "There's been speculation something's due Mindelan, especially with Prince Roald's marriage sealing the treaty, but I don't think anyone knows except your parents and the King."

"Wyldon does but wouldn't say."

Ortien blinked. "You're on first-name terms?"

"We're friends these days. It's nicer than being at loggerheads."

She left him nonplussed, to Orie's amusement, and tried complimenting her mother, eyeing the kimonos, but received a wink and gave up, instead telling Adie about the new shops. Her sister nodded.

"Yes, Tian was telling me. She says Lalasa has a suitor."

"Mmm, I met him—Tomas Weaver. He seems nice and she glows when he's there." Shakith's assurances could stay private.

"Oh. I'm pleased for her, of course, but a bit surprised. I thought she and Tian were, well, you know, together."

"Fujojoufu , you mean? I think they might have been at one time, when Lalasa was so nervous and could hardly bear to look at a man, but I don't think it was ever a settled thing. And it's harder here than in Yaman—more for men than women, I suppose, but still."

"That's true. Merovec has a cousin who's very unmarried and staying that way, and he gets quite bilious about it sometimes."

Kel glanced around but Merovec was deep in talk with Ortien and Conal staring into space. She kept her voice low. "You know, Adie, if there's one thing conservatives have taught me it's that they seem to link sex to everything. All else aside, did you realise how incoherent Torhelm's insults were? It's been the same ever since I grew breasts. And while they think nothing—or used to think nothing—of implying anything they dream up about me, if anyone suggested anything about them they'd lose it completely."

"I don't think that's conservatives, Kel—it's just men."

"It's not Papa, Anders, Inness, or Avinar—only Conal. And not Raoul, Neal, Dom, or most of the men in the Own. It's not Wyldon, either, so it's not all conservatives but it's definitely

a conservative trait."

"Maybe. I do agree it makes no sense at all."

"Well, if you ever figure it out, let me know."

"Alright." Adie laid a hand on Kel's arm. "Kel, what happened to you—gods know I'm sick and sorry but it's made you, I don't know, sharper. You wouldn't have said anything like that a year ago."

"I thought it, though. I've been through a lot, Adie, and, well, dying seems to put things in perspective. Doesn't it sound absurd? But it's as much the experience of war generally, and especially of command—New Hope has close to a thousand people now and a lot to get done."

"A thousand people?"

"Three companies, two of them regular with staffs, the clerks, and four hundred plus Tortallan refugees with the Scanrans and immortals. There'll be more Tortallans in the spring and summer, almost certainly."

"Goddess! I hadn't put it together." Adie looked down. "Kel, I know Orie and I weren't

… we didn't help you much with becoming a knight, and we thought it, well, foolish of you. It embarrassed us, if I'm honest, when we were hunting for husbands. But look at you now—you've done more already than any of us except Papa and Mama."

Self-consciousness warred with gratitude and Kel wondered what that had cost her sister to say. "I know it was awkward for you, Adie, but you stood up for me against people like that Doanna. And gods know what Lady Florzile will say now!"

"She better hadn't." Adie's eyes glittered. "And if she does I'll ask her why she opposes the gods' will when they've demonstrated it so spectacularly. She's as rude as a Scanran at the best of times but not stupid or impious. She was yacking on about Tirrsmont's arrest though."

"Tell her Nond voted for an enquiry of noble competence, so she should take it up with him before she makes a fool of herself in public."

"He did?"

"Yes, with both haMinch votes and Cavall, Haryse, Frasrlund—everyone but Torhelm and Runnerspring. Tirrsmont perjured himself to Turomot and the Council and was caught red-handed." Kel frowned. "Merovec and Ortien both knew Nond would oppose Tirrsmont's grab for New Hope, so it sounds as if Lady Florzile's not been keeping up."

"Kel, you're priceless. Giving the old bat a set-down will make my week."

Lachran arrived, scrubbed and full of apologetic explanations about being caught up in training, and they headed for the Ballroom. Kel was surprised her nephew had been released— pages never were merely to be with family, service being in high demand at events this big—and expanded her guesses about what might be happening. The servant at the door was the man who'd been on duty for the Queen's Ball, who bowed to her, winked at Irnai, and again got the pronunciation right. They were in family order so only Lachran and the children were behind Kel, and by the time they entered everyone seemed to be applauding. She provoked a particular outburst but was getting used to it and with everyone in, her parents headed confidently forwards to an area below the dais where representatives of the realms' great families stood around the King and Queen, seated with Roald and Shinko—Duke Baird with Duchess Wilina, Haryse's cousin; Duke Gareth and Duchess Cythera; Lord Imrah, a widower; and Padraig; Duke Turomot was

there, beside a table with paraphernalia of formal oath-taking. Everyone was in robes and Shinko in face-paint, but Kel could tell she was excited.

When they were assembled and had made bows and curtseys Jonathan and Thayet rose.

"My lords and ladies, honoured guests, we begin this evening with a rare and pleasant duty of reward. Everyone knows that my forebear Jonathan I wrote in The Scroll of Salute that four houses were the shield of Tortall—Legann, Naxen, haMinch, Queenscove—and it stays true. Duke Gareth serves me as his father served mine, and haMinchi lords hold Our northern border as they have ever done, too often, as now, against Scanran attack. In the Immortals War the greatest action was at Legann, where Lord Imrah was a tower of strength. And all know of the fearsome losses Duke Baird and Duchess Wilina sustained in that conflict, as well as His Grace's outstanding service as the realm's chief healer for more than thirty years. No praise can be too great."

All that was true, and if Kel hadn't been as impressed with Duke Gareth as with the others she was happy to join general applause.

"Yet those great houses no longer stand alone, for in Our reign another has risen to give the best service any king could desire. Though Mindelan was enrolled in the Book of Copper only three generations past none have done more in the last two decades. The painstaking work of securing Our Yamani alliance could not have been carried forward without Baron Piers, and though too few appreciate it without the great valour of Baroness Ilane, who slew Scanran raiders to defend the treasured Swords of Law and Duty, winning favour of His Imperial Majesty. And all know their labours culminated this year in the marriage of Our heir. And yet there is more."

All that was true too but Kel was getting the strangest feeling. That her parents deserved recognition she knew, and was delighted by it, but what the King had in mind she was less and less sure.

"Baron Piers's eldest daughter, Patricine, Lady noh Akaneru, herself made an important Yamani alliance, and stands high in His Imperial Majesty's favour. Lady Demadria haMinch cannot be here as she is increasing, but Lady Adalia of Nond and Lady Oranie of Hannalof are here with their husbands. Lord Avinar is also absent, continuing his work at the City of the Gods where he too rises high. And beyond this, Mindelan has given four knights to Tortall in this generation alone, with another in training. Sir Anders and Sir Inness, absent directing winter defence of Mindelan, and Sir Conal, who is here, have each given most valiant service, Sir Anders at personal cost, and We have no doubt Sir Lachran will do the same when he shall join the roll. And there is Lady Knight Commander Keladry, who has already done more in this war than any other, rescuing hundreds of Our subjects foully kidnapped, slaying a vile necromancer, burning King Maggur's own castle, and building in New Hope the finest strongpoint in many generations while pioneering treaties with spidrens and basilisks."

The last words were drowned by applause that the King let run its course before holding up a hand. Kel knew she was flushed and wished he hadn't enumerated everything again; at least he'd left out the gods and her siblings had all been mentioned, though Conal was scowling and Lachran looked as if he'd swallowed juice to find it ardent wine.

"Now, the rules of Tortallan nobility are … complicated." Laughter murmured round the ballroom. "Naxen and Queenscove have been ducal houses for generations, and it has become veritable tradition for a Conté king to offer a haMinchi overlord the same status and be refused, the haMinchi lords preferring their unique clan system." He didn't need to add that no-one not a haMinch understood its finer points, and everyone called any adult haMinch 'my Lord' or 'my Lady' on safe principle. "Lord Imrah too has twice declined promotion, declaring himself content as Count of Legann and not wishing to be dragged away from his fief more than he already is. But

We insist no-one be held back from honours rightfully earned, and it is my great pleasure to declare that with the consent of all here with Us, and of the Council of Nobles, Mindelan today becomes a ducal house, in recognition of its very great collective service. My Lord Baron, Lady Baroness, come forward."

Kel was dumbstruck as were the rest of the family, even Conal's jaw dropping. In her wildest dreams she'd never imagined the King had such a thing in mind, but in some ways even stranger to her was the wild cheering that broke out. She knew Shinko was a darling and Roald's marriage popular, so her parents, very much a public face of the Yamani alliance, were also popular, aided by their lack of noble arrogance; but what she hadn't grasped inwardly, despite everything, was that above all she was popular, the one great hero to emerge so far from the dragging Scanran War, whose deeds had tangible form in the dead killing device and rescued children; who was firmly associated with the burgeoning self-defence classes and new Protector's Maids and walked respectfully among commoners on the streets; whom the gods themselves protected against the unspeakable slurs of a senior lord and his cronies. The core of the old nobility, standing with the King, were evidently content; new nobility saw the first dukedom of the Book of Copper as an affirmation of their own status; and city merchants and elders were more than willing to embrace any honour done Kel—so all cheered, loud and long, while Piers and Ilane signed the necessary documents, quieting only to let them kneel and swear new oaths of loyalty.

"My Lords and ladies, honoured guests, I give you His Grace Duke Piers and Her Grace Duchess Ilane of Mindelan."

Cheering raised the roof but even so Kel heard a piercing trill of approval that could only be Kitten, bouncing beside a grinning Daine and Numair, and a deep rumble from Tkaa, standing beside them; perhaps fortunately, Kawit was still sleeping off her long talk with Diamondflame.

Adie, Orie, Merovec, Ortien, Conal, and Lachran were dazed but the children seemed to think all straightforwardly in order, and Kel, stood in better stead than she knew by experience of walking in the lower city, was able to smile more naturally and prompt others to their own applause of her Mama and Papa.

The ball that followed was for Mindelans if no-one else a very odd experience, with every encounter a cue for intense congratulations mixed with a degree of adulation that flummoxed all of them but that Kel and the children coped with best—if only because after spidrens, basilisks, stormwings, gods, and dragons, there was a limit to how overwhelming mortals could manage to be.


	14. Chapter 12

Hardship

Chapter Twelve — Hardship

January–February

The aftermath of the ball was disconcerting. Although the family gained noble precedence only her parents' styles changed—but as Thayet gleefully informed Kel at glaive practice her distaff border should now have a gold rim. Lalasa happily added one to the Mindelan sigil on her dresses and, sceptical of Kel's skills with a needle, promised to do the kimonos if they were sent with the damaged finery; she did however supply enough gold thread for Kel to do her flag at New Hope.

Then there were letters of congratulation. So many poured in that the interesting thing wasn't who had sent one, but who hadn't. Even Lord Burchard, whom no-one had seen since he'd staggered from the Chamber, sent a stiff note, as minimal as his apology, but still; Kel hardly expected one from Tirrsmont or Torhelm but did note without surprise that the conspicuous absentees among senior nobility were Genlith and Runnerspring. Among the letters were also, to Kel's astonishment, a number requesting patronage or money. These she read carefully, but as all were from men she'd never heard of and offered neither reason nor detail she sent polite refusals. More difficult were two from complete strangers proposing marriage, apparently sincerely. They were the only romantic professions she'd ever received save Cleon's, and deranged as they had to be she found herself contemplating them with something twisting in her heart. Several attempts at replies went into the fireplace before she found a brisk military tone to say that, as they'd never met and almost certainly had nothing in common, marriage seemed unwise, adding that if she might take the liberty of assuming the writers moved by patriotic admiration it might be better expressed by supporting the refugees she'd been fortunate enough to rescue. Finishing, she nearly bundled all the letters into the fire but after some thought arranged them by subject and sender and filed them, thinking that if such correspondence continued she'd need a private clerk.

In some ways more disturbing was the apology from Conal. Returning with the children from a visit to Kawit and Kitten on the day after the ball, she found her brother waiting, and when he declined to come in sent Tobe and Irnai inside. Conal was clearly uncomfortable but determined to do right by his own lights.

"My Lord of Cavall informs me it is proven by truthspell Tirrsmont lied about what happened at New Hope. That he perjured himself and was beyond question himself the one to utter threats and obscenities. I apologise for not believing you, Keladry."

Kel considered him. "Thank you, Conal, but you didn't give me a chance to say anything you didn't believe—you assumed I was at fault."

"Tirrsmont swore it was true. I could hardly doubt him."

"I understand your logic but it depends on the person swearing having honour to swear by, and I'm sorry but Tirrsmont has none. Out of interest, did you know Sir Voelden tried to run me through during a tilt? He hit my breastplate and cracked a rib."

"He says it was an accident."

"He told me that too, but refused to swear it by gods' oath. And this isn't for public consumption, Conal, but thought it didn't name Voelden the elemental of the Chamber said Joren

paid at least one knight to try to kill me in the tilting lane."

"The Chamber said?" Conal's voice was incredulous.

"The King will confirm it. We spoke to the elemental together the day after the Queen's

Ball."

Incredulity became bewilderment. "You and the King spoke to the Chamber."

"Yes. I can't tell you what about, I'm afraid, but you must know the Chamber sent me after Blayce, and there was unfinished business."

"I don't understand you at all, Keladry, and talking to the Chamber seems all wrong. But I am sorry I did not have faith in my own sister."

"I'm sorry about that too, but glad to be on better terms. I hate being at odds with family. Do you know where you'll be going when the fighting starts again?"

He accepted the topic gratefully. "Mindelan, so Inness and Tilaine can get away for a bit. There's concern about another attack, though I don't understand why Maggur should target us especially."

"I'm afraid it's my fault—I did burn down his clanhome and as my report undoubtedly made its way to Hamrkeng he knows who to blame. That's why New Hope is so fortified."

"Oh. I see." He frowned. "Well, I hope you don't feel guilty about it—we have to hit Maggur every way we can."

"Yes, we do. I just wish we could do it directly and not have to kill so many other people

first."

"But they're Scanrans."

"Many are forced to fight, Conal—Maggur holds clanchiefs' wives and families hostage. I'm not saying he doesn't have supporters but a lot of people who've died didn't want to fight us. I'm tired of it. Tell me, how many men had you killed at twenty?"

"Twenty? None, I don't think. My first real action was later that year, when the Immortals War began."

"Huh. Well, I lost count this last year. It was a round dozen before I was eighteen, from hillmen to bandits and suchlike I fought with the Own. Then I saw action against Scanrans and by now it's scores. I dream of their faces."

She wasn't sure he understood at all, and not for the first time wondered if his problem wasn't at root simply that the Mindelan brains had skipped over him, leaving his world an often fearsome and puzzling place. But they parted on better terms than for a long time, and if they'd never be as close as she was to Anders and Inness they were no longer enemies. Her mother was pleased to hear of Conal's apology, if as surprised as Kel that he hadn't made the connection between her report and the wolfship threat; but both parents were less happy about her determination to return to New Hope at the first break in the weather.

Of that there was little prospect, however. The cold lingered with increasingly dirty snow, and in the north winter was by all accounts severe. Brodhelm's reports by spellmirror to Vanget, an abstract of which he included in a summary relay to Corus, spoke of deep snow and bitter nights, sentries relieved half-hourly, basilisks helping keep stables safely warm, and retreat to the

caves. Quenuresh and her kin had come in to a side-chamber in Immortals' Row; the centaurs hadn't but Whitelist had requested to use the corral and extra hay. Along the border the picture was the same, deep snow extending from Frasrlund east of Northwatch and south of Bearsford, and everyone hunkered down, preferably close to a fire. Geese and owls relaying information to Daine reported the same across Scanra, except the snow was even deeper, smaller rivers and lakes frozen, though the Vassa, thankfully, was too swift and turbulent for more than icy margins.

Kel had never had real expectation of being able to return before February, and probably March, but found herself fretting all the same—as if there were anything she could do if she were there except shiver with everyone else. It had been the same last year, waiting after her Ordeal to travel north when the roads reopened, but then she'd had the puzzle of Blayce and logistical work with Raoul to keep her occupied. This year she had no distractions, and though she threw herself into glaive work with pages, forced indoors by snow, they had a curriculum Padraig had followed Wyldon in expanding to include more applied military history, tactics, and strategy. With Alanna Kel prosecuted her case for slingwork, demonstrating how effective they could be, and had the satisfaction of seeing the First Company of the Own make a start on basic skills and how slingmen might be deployed behind archers.

The long wait gave time to do other things. Most importantly Daine agreed to boost Alder's capacity. It took a long morning, with the tension of wild magic filling the air; Tobe found the process fascinating and to Numair's surprise was able to perceive patterns in the magic that swirled into Alder. Irnai was less interested but absorbed by Kawit's stories of life before her long nap—before the rise of the Thanic Empire, from the collapse of which Tortall, Barzun, Galla, Maren, Tusaine, Tyra, and the Bazhir tribes had emerged.

Daine explained to Alder about barding, and once he'd had a few days to settle—"Just imagine, Kel, what it would be like to have one of the gods suddenly inflate your brain to work more like their own"—she saddled him, wrapped his legs against ice-cuts, and led him down Palace Way to Master Randall's. As promised Wyldon came as well as Tobe, concerned with all things horse, and Irnai loved the bustle of the city. They mostly spoke of ordinary matters, Wyldon soliciting the children's opinions of Corus, but when both lagged to watch a mule-train of kitchen supplies Kel thanked him for setting Conal straight.

"He came to me, Keladry. He seems to have swallowed all Tirrsmont said and couldn't make head or tail of whatever Runnerspring said happened. I can't blame Sir Conal for that, I suppose—Mithros knows what he cooked up to avoid saying he'd been shown up as a fool."

"Maybe, but I'm afraid Conal's not the sharpest knife in the box."

"He didn't distinguish himself as a page." Wyldon hesitated. "He seemed very ready to disbelieve you. Or disbelieve in you."

"He got into terrible trouble as a boy for bullying me and he's never forgiven me." "Ah, yes, that can happen. The tower episode?" "You know about that? I didn't think I ever told you."

"You didn't—your mother did, after you rescued Miss Isran, because she was amazed you'd been able to descend the outer stair of the Needle. But I'd guessed there had to be something behind your fear of heights. You were afraid of nothing else."

"I was, though—I just controlled it. But with heights I couldn't, until you made me climb that tree every day."

"Mmm, yes. You might not have realised it but I greatly admired your determination. Heights don't seem to trouble you now."

"The Needle burned it out. I've never been so scared." "But you went on—it's all that matters."

Tobe and Irnai caught them up at the gates of the lower city, the guards all salutes. Seeing the way people nodded and stood aside, smiling, Wyldon looked at her with some irony.

"Is it always like this for you now?"

Kel sighed. "Seems to be. It's embarrassing, but sweet I suppose."

"Sweet?" He shook his head. "You have the oddest ideas."

"Do I? It's nicer being liked by people I've never met for things I have done than hated for things I haven't."

He gave her an old-fashioned look but took Alder and the children to the stables while Kel ducked in to find Master Randall. He greeted her enthusiastically, offering congratulations and asking she relay them to her parents, before summoning an assistant to fetch barding to the stable. He greeted Tobe and Irnai easily but bowed to Wyldon.

"My Lord of Cavall. Is Alder one of yours? I thought he might be."

"Good day to you, Master Randall. Yes, Alder's from my stud. Lady Keladry's horse was badly injured and I didn't want her without a good horse." The assistant came with shaffron and crinet, leaning them against the wall before heading back for the rest, and Wyldon went across to lift the shaffron, turning it.

"It is light." He rapped the armour. "Hmm. Have you done tests to see what it does and doesn't stop, Master Randall?"

"I have, my Lord. If you'd care to step through …"

Of necessity all armourers had a small range, here set between main buildings and stables; snow had been shovelled aside. As well as the usual targets there was a pocked sheet of Carthaki metal, and they stood back as Master Randall took a longbow and selected a broadhead.

"This is just twenty-five yards, and with a full draw, aiming as square-on as I can …" The arrow zinged into the metal, stuck for a moment and fell to the ground. "Some stick and enough point goes through that the horse would feel it, though it shouldn't be a serious injury. You have to be at under twenty yards or using a needlepoint to do better, and if the angle's off even slightly …" He moved to one side, aiming a needlepoint at the other side of the metal sheet, and the arrow screeched off to land in the snow pile. "…they don't stick at all. And I ask you, my Lord, how often d'you get a square shot in battle?"

"Once is enough, though, on the receiving end. What about bolts?"

"Same thing, allowing for range." Master Randall swapped longbow for crossbow. "Straight on a bolt will punch through at up to about thirty yards, though it loses a lot of force— but a good bolt'll go through plate the same way. And at an angle …" He aimed across the target as before, and the bolt clanged off into snow. "You see? If you'll excuse me while I retrieve arrows and bolt …"

He went to do so and Kel looked at Wyldon, eyebrows raised.

"Mmm. I'm half-persuaded—deflections are useful, certainly. Let's see how the barding fits. Alder may not like the shaffron at all—I didn't train him with one and they often dislike anything on their heads."

"Oh it should be alright—Daine's told him about the barding and Tobe's here to interpret." Wyldon blinked. "She told him? And he understood?"

"So she said. She's taught him all the voice commands I used with Peachblossom so I've no need to spur him, ever. And she made him, well, smarter, so he can understand what Peachblossom can tell him about how I fight with the glaive." Kel peered at him. "You did know she magicked Peachblossom when I first had him? He'd been so badly treated his mouth was ruined and he has the rowel scars still."

Master Randall returned and they followed him back to the stable, where the complete barding waited, Alder eyeing it.

"I didn't but I should have guessed. I confess I wondered how you managed him. But you can't have known Daine then, surely."

"Neal introduced us. He had a terrible crush on her." "Huh. Queenscove."

His tone spoke volumes and Kel grinned, but as she'd predicted there wasn't a problem. Alder understood the barding was to protect him and was eager to co -operate. There was a tailored blanket to protect against chafing of which he approved, and the lined shaffron fitted perfectly over head and muzzle. The crinet round his neck was no problem either, but when the peytral was added he snorted.

"He says it hangs too low," Tobe reported. "If you stand back, Master Randall, he'll show

you."

The armourer looked startled but did as asked, and Alder promptly reared, striking out with one hoof and making the peytral jump, scales ringing, then dropped and reared again, striking with the other. The peytral jumped and rang again.

"It's blocking his kicks. He can't aim as high as he'd like and says he'd be lucky to get a tall man in the chest. The head would be out of reach and he thinks that's the best shot against someone in armour."

"Ah." Master Randall was evidently bemused but nodded. "May I approach him again, Tobeis?"

"Yes of course. He was only showing you."

The armourer cautiously studied the bottom of the peytral and the ruffled hair on Alder's forelegs. "Mmm, I see. I need to take off one row of scales? Or two? Does Alder, ah, have an opinion?"

Tobe looked at Alder, holding up his hands with a slight gap and then widening them. "More like two, I think, Master Randall."

"Right." He scratched his head plaintively. "Can we try flanchards?"

The side-pieces were unproblematical, fitting perfectly around the saddle, but the crupper nestling round hips and croup had the same problem as the peytral. With due warning from Tobe, Alder again demonstrated, kicking out and the crupper jumped and rang.

"About the same to come off then—two rows. I'm sorry, my Lady, I hadn't allowed sufficiently for kicking out. Do you, ah, find you need to do that often? I only fought on foot."

Kel considered. "Not that frequently, Master Randall, but quite often in some kinds of combat. It's not just on the battlefield, when sword- or axemen try to get in behind to hamstring, but if you encounter foot soldiers on a narrow trail."

Wyldon harrumphed. "Not that you should be leading patrols any more. It can happen on any journey but you shouldn't be on point."

She gave him an old-fashioned look of her own. "I don't, my Lord, but we've only four knights at New Hope—three until Seaver returns—and I can't not be available if knights are needed. It's not just being antsy behind a desk."

"I suppose not." He frowned. "Do you need more knights? Vanget, Goldenlake, and I are still arguing what to do with this year's crop."

Kel thought. "One might be useful—Prosper, maybe, as he has some Gift. But without knowing the force mix against us it's hard to argue I'll need more. This year it was light stuff, except for the tauroses—the same old hit-and -run. But with the losses we handed them with slings and arrows I don't think they'll keep on with that. If they're serious about New Hope they'll need to put a real army in the field and then the knights are only useful to cover the initial retreat. The problem with the defences being so strong is we can't sally."

Wyldon nodded. "Yes, alright—good analysis. Knights will be more use with a relieving force but I'll put it to the others about Tameran." He smiled. "I don't imagine Goldenlake will oppose you and you've already twisted an entire company out of Vanget."

"Will I keep them once I'm back, though?"

"Unless there's good reason they're needed elsewhere."

"Mmm. War's full of good reasons, though."

They became aware of Master Randall's interested audience and he hastily held up a hand.

"I'll not say a word, my Lord, my Lady. But forgive my fascination—having served in the Tusaine and Immortals Wars I've some idea of the problems you face. I'll say also, my Lady, that I knew about your mission of course, and it was plain you must be a leader to follow, but I'd not realised you were the kind of commander you've just shown yourself."

To Kel's surprise Wyldon smiled. "Your discretion would be appreciated, Master Randall. And never underestimate the Lady Knight. I did for years but learned in the end, and now she keeps us all on our toes, from His Majesty down."

Kel glared but Master Randall smiled. "I bet she does, my Lord. Now, young Tobeis, is the total weight alright for Alder, or does it need to be reduced? There's not much I can do but there are a few places scaling could be stretched and some removed."

Tobe consulted. "He says it's alright, Ma, but his top speed will be down and his daily range limited."

"It's not for travelling, Tobe—only combat near New Hope. But lighter is always better, Master Randall, so if there is anywhere scales could be thinned without leaving real vulnerability I'd prefer that."

"Right you are, my Lady. It'll be ready day after tomorrow."

She gave him a letter instructing her goldsmith-banker to pay his bill and they headed back, stopping for Irnai to buy ribbons and a book about pre-Thanic history that raised Wyldon's eyebrows.

"Kawit's been telling me about it," Irnai explained, "but she was mostly in Carthak and didn't see much of the north. She didn't pay a lot of attention to mortals either, so I wanted to fill in some gaps."

"Ah. I see." They returned to the street, where Tobe was holding Alder. "Or rather I don't. That dragon remembers pre-Thanic history?"

Kel nodded solemnly. "Kitten woke her from a two-thousand year nap, Wyldon. When she, um, nodded off, the Thanic empire hadn't even started. You got into it discussing the timeway, didn't you, Irnai?"

"Yes. Kawit didn't see it create any of the present but did watch it quite closely then because the Carthaki empire was becoming inevitable. I know what Diamondflame said but weaving's the image that works for me—all threads pulled together, but what you get depends what's on the shuttle."

"That makes sense, except for the threads moving about and the loom thinking for itself. Is Tkaa going to ask her to help teach pages?"

"We didn't talk about that. We're coming to that pastry shop."

"So we are." Kel ruffled Irnai's hair, and they stopped at the shop with a sign that said Maranie's Pastries & Rebekah's Preserves and underneath Protector's Maids. Kel purchased an assortment of gooey delights and forced an apple tart on Wyldon, having everything packed in boxes so she could fit them in panniers and save Maranie's boy a slog to the Palace. As they went on Wyldon was thoughtful.

"Does Protector's Maids refer to you?"

She explained and he studied her with a look she couldn't fathom.

"Astonishing. I've been thinking about what you do, Keladry, and it's not radical innovation—you put together what we have in new ways. You did it with the Chamber, in building New Hope, this metal for barding, getting Daine to explain to Alder, and with these women."

Tobe had been listening. "And griffin-bands and slings, my Lord. Ma's got a good head on her shoulders." His tone was sagacious and Kel laughed despite her embarrassment.

"Have I, you little ruffian? Alder's down to you as much as Daine."

"He's right, Keladry. Your thinking is fresh. I believe it's what's made you effective against Maggur—he's an innovator too, however horribly, and old ways won't do against him. It explains something about how challenging—and rewarding—people like myself and Vanget have —"

Kel felt a sliding blow on her back and staggered as Wyldon broke off, whirling. "Stop that man! In the blue jacket—stop him now!"

His voice cracked command and heads snapped round. The man trying to dodge sideways into an alleyway found his way blocked by a burly fellow and turned but slipped. By the time he'd scrambled up Wyldon had a dagger at his throat and people converged, the burly man and another seizing his arms.

"Keladry, are you alright?"

"I think so." Kel felt her back and found a long slice in her jerkin, feeling scored metal within. Automatically her eyes searched for the children, wide-eyed but sheltered by Alder. "Yes —the jerkin turned his blade. I'm fine, Tobe. Stay there for now."

"You tried to kill the Protector?" The burly man's face was red and Kel saw anger on many faces. "You piece of scummer." A large fist drew back and Kel's own voice cracked.

"Hold! We need information, not revenge. I want Guards here now." She pointed. "Fetch the Lord Provost, please. And you, ask the gate sergeant to send five men with a shackle. Go."

They went, and Kel walked forward to see the man who'd tried to kill her. He was dark-haired and swarthy, with a look of the south-east, and Kel's heart sank. Before she could say anything he spat at her feet and people at the front of the growing crowd shouted rage.

"Hold!" Her mind churned. "He failed and we have him—his manners don't hurt me. Does anyone know him? Hold him up so everyone can see."

Cursing, the man found himself roughly lifted and turned back and forth, but no-one claimed knowledge of him.

"Take a good look, please—details as well—and start asking around. Who is he? Where's he been living? What's his story? If anyone learns anything, tell a Dog or send to the Lord Provost."

Some people obeyed and those that remained quieted, though their eyes were unforgiving. While she was speaking Wyldon had examined the slice in her jerkin and his face was dark with anger.

"He's got a blade somewhere. Hold him tight, you two, and someone hold his legs." Two men came forward and Wyldon searched carefully, removing two thin daggers from concealed belt-sheaths and another from a boot. "Thank you. You can let his feet go." He looked at the weapons. "The boot-knife is Pearlmouth work—Gull Armoury. The others are assassin's weapons without marking." He glanced up. "It's a good thing you were wearing that jerkin, Keladry. Were you expecting this?"

"No—I just believe in being prepared." Resting a hand on his arm she lowered her voice. "Not here, Wyldon—there's obvious possibilities and only one is Maggur."

He looked sick. "Yes, I see."

Men from the guard came jogging up, one carrying a shackle, and by the time the man was chained, hands behind back, the Lord Provost arrived with an escort, looking alarmed. Gorwin of Coas Wood had held the post some years, but Kel had only met him properly at the Queen's Ball; Wyldon tersely explained, showing the slice on Kel's jerkin and giving him the daggers.

"An assassin. Huh. Who wants you dead, Lady Keladry?"

The crowd had stood back from the guards but Kel kept her voice low. "Maggur, if we're lucky. If not, Tirrsmont, Torhelm, Runnerspring, Marti's Hill. Genlith, maybe. That's why I sent for guards as well as you, my Lord. You'll need Sir Myles also."

He stared. "You really think …"

"I know who's threatened me with death and worse, my Lord."

"I'm afraid she's right, Coas Wood. We should adjourn somewhere private, and that man belongs in the King's dungeons, not your kennels."

"I need to take the children home, Wyldon. Can you—"

"You should have an escort."

"I'll come with you myself. The guards can bring him to the Palace."

They assembled themselves, Kel taking a moment to thank the crowd and ask them again to share the man's description and find where he'd been staying. She gave the children hugs, assuring them she was alright and letting them look at the jerkin.

"It makes the precautions worthwhile, doesn't it?"

"Why, Ma?" Tobe's voice was wavery. "Do you know that man?"

"No. He's probably hired. It could be Maggur, or someone I've offended here, like Tirrsmont."

"But he's in prison, isn't he?"

"He has a son and friends. We'll find out. Now, let's get back—we've those pastries, remember."

The food was a good bribe but they stuck close, looking anxiously around even after they'd left the crowds behind, and Kel silently cursed whoever had hired the assassin.

The flood of letters didn't stop and Kel decided she really was going to need a private clerk. Whether people would send such letters to New Hope she wasn't sure, but even there she'd be receiving more reports from Lalasa and her new maids, and fitting in private paperwork between training and command staffwork wasn't her idea of what to do with her little free time. Whoever she chose had to be discreet as well as efficient and willing to come north, and after racking her brains she consulted her father. He rolled his eyes in sympathy, indicating piles of correspondence on his own desk and clerks scratching away in the room beyond, and did know someone who might suit—a young woman at Mindelan whose parents had died in a shipwreck, and who'd been raised as a baron's ward. She was clerking for Anders, more as something to do than because there was real need. Kel accepted gratefully, but refused his offer to pay her wage—ducal promotion didn't translate to any immediate increase in revenues and did bring extra expenses.

"It's alright, Papa. My purses would cover it easily, and Lalasa tithes far more than I use. The new shops seem to be doing well too—that might slow down, when the fuss dies, but it's fine."

That he didn't press the point told her she was right about drained finances, and she had a quiet word with her mother about accessing her funds at need. Ilane was distracted by the attack, furious and fretting, but as she took in what Kel was saying she frowned. "Kel, sweeting, that's all the wrong way round. We're supposed to support you."

"You do, Mama, and have for ages. I'm happy to pay something back, and I've plenty. I've not used up the money paid after Joren's trial."

"But it's yours, sweeting. It shouldn't be for setting up Mindelan as a duchy. With Alanna and Raoul giving you armour and horses you've cost us nothing next to your sisters. It wouldn't be right to take your money."

Kel knew her sisters' and Avinar's educations at the City of the Gods had been expensive, and the need to provide three dowries in rapid succession very difficult indeed, but she didn't want to go there.

"Actually, Mama, I think it's Lalasa's but I've argued till I'm blue and she won't budge, so it might as well do something useful. Treat it as a free loan—the goldsmith has instructions to let you draw whatever you ask and tithes will build up. Have you seen how busy they are?"

The conversation was steered away from difficult territory, and Kel left with the double satisfaction of having procured a clerk and done unexpected good. Her meeting with the King and Lord Provost two days after the attack was less satisfactory.

"The assassin was a Pearlmouth man, Keladry, hired in Torhelm by someone who sounds like Lord Angors's steward, two days after his return. Who the orders came from we don't know yet but Guisant has to be doing the talking—ha!—and the fool seems to have put out a story that you attacked his father. The fief is very tense, apparently. I've sent Lord Imrah with five squads of the Own to arrest the steward and both Torhelms. He'll make an announcement backed by gods' oath of what happened to Torhelm." He scowled. "Odds are it'll mean another noble trial and you'll be back at New Hope long before that can happen, so you'll need to leave statements with my Lord Provost. Meantime, I'm thankful you wore that jerkin. Did you expect an attack ?"

"I wondered if Maggur might think an assassin cheaper than assault so I got jerkins. Numair warded my rooms and gave us bracelets to detect poison, but there's been nothing like that."

The scowl became ferocious. "I should hope not. But I can't fault your caution when it's proven so wise. You're far-sighted, Keladry, and devising your own answers again without fussing—it's commendable."

The Lord Provost nodded. "Indeed. I'll send a man to take statements, my Lady. We've already taken one from Cavall."

"Of course, my Lord. May I ask if you've learned anything about where he'd been staying?"

"Yes, thanks to your request of the crowd—good thinking, that. News went through the lower city like wildfire and the sun hadn't set before an innkeep in Cherry Street came forward to say he had a guest matching the description, and another staying with him. By the time we got there the friend had fled—he used South Gate, heading west." The roads to Torhelm and

Runnerspring lay that way. "We searched the rooms but there wasn't much beyond spare clothes. The assassin did have the gold he'd been paid on him, though."

Kel wondered what her life was worth. "How much?"

"Ten gold nobles, and two for expenses." The Lord Provost winced at her expression. "I know, my Lady, but it's a lot to a man like that."

"Yes. Still, a man like that … um, I realise this might be awkward, my Lord, but have you asked the Rogue if he knows anything? I've been given to understand he supports the women's self-defence classes so he might take an interest in this."

"Hmm, yes. I heard about that, too. Interesting. Enquiries are being made. The Whisper Man deals with that side of things, though."

Kel nodded, wondering again if Sir Myles's anonymous deputy really was Alanna's husband, as Neal intimated. "Good. Is there anything else you wish me to do, sire?"

"Keep being careful, Keladry. And head back to New Hope as soon as there's a break in the weather. It's absurd that you'll probably be safer in a warzone than here, but at least there the threat's open. And if we do end up trying one or both Torhelms as well as this steward and the assassin on what will be capital charges there's going to be high feeling. Against the lot of them, mostly, but it's going to be messy all the same. Who'll be travelling with you and the children?"

"I hadn't got that far, sire. No-one else is scheduled to return to New Hope except Seaver, when Tasride can spare him, and some soldiers I gave leave for family business, but they're all at their homes away east and as I didn't know what the weather would be doing they won't be overdue until April."

"Well that won't do. I'll put a Rider Group on standby."

"Thank you, sire—that's a boon. I'll have hired packhorses so we'll not be moving fast and support will be helpful."

"Packhorses? What for?"

"The barding I've bought Alder, mostly, but the children have new clothes and things as

well."

"Oh, yes. Lord Wyldon mentioned that barding—sounds useful. Well, take what you need from the Palace pool and ask Stefan Groomsman to detail an ostler. He can come back with the Riders. And get these statements done as soon as you can."

"I can send a man today."

So Kel and the children spent the afternoon telling an efficient Provost's Dog what each had seen, and showing the mended jerkin, followed by anxious days confining themselves to the Palace enclosure before Imrah returned with only two squads. He had Torhelm in custody but the steward and Sir Guisant hadn't been found, and he'd put the fief into royal administration pending resolution—not easy as Torhelm couldn't speak. Imrah came to see Kel after the King and sat brooding by her fire, pocked face set in a scowl.

"Torhelm's a mess, my Lady—Angors doesn't seem to have any proper administration and Guisant or that steward deputised for him with a rod of iron. When I announced there were warrants out for both there was dead silence, then wild cheering, and when I told 'em what actually happened to Angors half of 'em went straight to the nearest temple to give thanks. I

arrested him as much to get him out of there and keep him safe as anything. It's a bad business."

"Do you think the fief's been maladministered, my Lord?"

"Undoubtedly. But two enquiries of noble competence would be very awkward, and if Angors or Guisant did order the assassination, which I don't doubt, treason has precedence. Even Carolan can't dispute that."

"Will he try, my Lord?"

"Just Imrah, if you will. You'll be on the Council shortly and all those vocatives take too much time. And yes, he probably will. He didn't use to be this stupid but he's always hated Thayet and Yamani alliance, and his idiot son being banished has backed him into a corner. But he won't get anywhere—the logjam on the council's well broken, thanks to you, Vanget, and Cavall, and with the gods fresh in everyone's mind there'll be no mercy if charges are proven."

Kel found the prospect disturbing. "It's Kel, then, Imrah. And gods know, I didn't want any of this. Did the King tell you what the elemental said about Joren's death?"

"Yes. It's the same, isn't it? Paying others to attack you. Filthy business. Do you think Burchard's involved?"

"I doubt it—he's trying to be civil, despite his obsessive grief—but I get the impression he's … withdrawn. But I don't know about Genlith—especially if he did order the attack that freed Vinson. That's treason already, and so's sheltering him, if he's back home."

"Mithros, yes—I'd forgotten that. Anyone else?"

"Voelden, maybe. Both Grotens and Heathercove loathe me. And Marti's Hill, perhaps. I've never met the lord—saw him a few times as a page—but Quinden knows I was responsible for the report that got him dismissed. Vanget says he swore vengeance."

"Does he? Hmm. The Grotens and Heathercove are stupid enough for anything. Marti's Hill's no fool, but he is narrow, and Quinden's his only son. There's bad blood between him and Ferghal haMinch, so he'll take Vanget dismissing his son as more of that though he must know the boy's a lazy fool."

"Vanget never mentioned that."

"Why should he? It wasn't his quarrel and he takes people as he finds 'em. Always has. It's Quinden who'll have seen it as victimisation."

That fitted what Kel knew of her incompetent yearmate, and she sighed. "Yes, he will. He never thought anything was his fault. And the elemental said he has a streak of treachery but scraped by as a fighter because with a war on we need knights."

"I didn't know that. Treachery?"

"Mmm. If Wyldon ever put him under my command during exercises I had to put him somewhere harmless. He'd let the opposition sneak up without raising the alarm—that sort of thing. Only against me—he was a crony of Joren's and Vinson's and used to say a woman's place was on her back. He despises commoners too—even the refugees were hiding money, according to him, and ought to have it shaken out of them."

"Gods, what a picture. Alright, Kel—noted. And don't look so glum—it's not your fault though I bet it seems like it. Half this stuff goes back to Duke Roger—everyone you've mentioned

backed him and didn't like Alanna killing him one bit. Either time." He grinned. "They also backed that mad Rittevon princess as Jonathan's bride, a proper—what's that word? Luarin, I think—someone fair-skinned, anyway, of what they call the 'right stock', so they've always been against Thayet as a foreigner, and Shinkokami. You've just become the focus for everything."

"I know. Even the gods, apparently. It's … irritating, actually."

He laughed. "I bet. But I'm glad it's you. Gives me hope. We depended on Alanna twenty-five years ago and it's done us a power of good. Seems right we should depend on you now, but it has to be hard as old oak for you. So don't worry about what happens here—we'll sort it one way or another. And if there's anything I can do, shout. Is there?"

As taken aback as embarrassed, Kel forced her mind to work. "Thank you, Imrah. Um. Maybe. I'm trying to get New Hope trade, so we can be less of a burden, and there's a merchant who'll be sending a man to see our stuff—Master Orman?"

"I know him. Good man. What kind of stuff?"

"Fine basilisk stoneware, to start. And maybe old webbing." She laughed at his expression and explained. "Sea routes make sense for stoneware, and if we shipped Mindelan to Legann …"

"With breaks on duty at both ends—I can do that. Makes for profit too, in the long run— set you up and if trade flourishes we'll do well anyway. Gods—spidren web to Carthak. Whatever next?" He chuckled. "Tell Orman to contact my port factor—he knows him—and we'll better anyone else's deal on goods from New Hope."

"I'll do that. Thank you." His generosity made her think. "May I ask something? Why did the Council think I wasn't trying to claim New Hope for myself? Duke Gareth seemed to find it very odd."

"Gary would—he's a cynic at heart. But I understood your argument. I'm not sure you'd do the same if you were twenty years older, mind, and I'm inclined to agree with Alanna and Cavall you're the outstanding candidate and would help secure that border once we're rid of Maggur. But you're young yet and very good-hearted, and you don't want to think about fighting for gain. Why d'you ask?"

"Because I think of it as my command but I realise I'm treating it like a town and a fief, not a refugee camp. It's … confusing."

"Mmm. It's what good commanders do, same as a fighting squad becomes family. But other people have put you on top of a political moment. Your actions, too—you've struck the most telling blow of the war so far, and by answering Tirrsmont so decisively, never mind Angors, you've shown yourself far more than a commander, invaluable as those are. And then there's your, what, touch? Whatever it is that's had the New Hopers writing those depositions, and immortals trusting you, and enabled you to set up all these shops. You're just doing what you do, I know, but it's all working and echoing, so it builds. If you survive you'll be ennobled in your own right—face that squarely—and New Hope'll be the obvious fief for twenty excellent reasons. So what it adds up to is your reluctance does you credit and the King ignoring it'll do him credit."

Kel blinked. "That makes my head hurt. I'm right to resist and he's right to overrule me?"

"Yes. Welcome to the places where honour and politics meet. Make yourself comfortable —you'll be here as long as you live. Now, can I see this barding? I've had three good horses killed under me, and anything that saves me a fourth has my vote."

Kel blinked again, appreciating Imrah's candour and priorities, and took him to Alder's

stable.

The cold lingered through January, so Kel and the children spent Imbolc with Daine, Numair, Kitten, and Kawit, dragging parents and sisters to the heated stable to see the opal dragon light scores of candles with a waved paw, and hear her start the traditional tale-telling of Imbolcs past with a memory no-one was going to match by tens of centuries. But when the weather did finally break, mid-February, it broke dramatically, a great wave of warm air thick with desert dust and grit billowing over Corus and far north, leaving everything a dull ochrous yellow. Rising as usual before dawn and hearing drips, Kel dressed swiftly and went to the Riders' quarters and stables before returning to pack and gentle the children awake. Before most people were up they were on their way with the riders of Group Askew, no less than four pack horses, load well distributed so they wouldn't slow the party, and two ostlers Stefan said needed the exercise.

The journey was without incident but strange and in differing ways difficult. As far as Queensgrace they were under the dust storm, and came to hate the slushy, abrasive mess it made of the thaw. At the first Royal wayhouse Kel requisitioned a bolt of rough cloth, and they wrapped the horses' fetlocks and cannons. Thereafter they spent time each night drying wraps while Tobe did his best to ease the chafing sodden cloth caused even as it protected. He didn't have Zerhalm's skill, let alone Daine's, but had developed enough healing talent to do a world of good and worked conscientiously. Irnai had no such outlet, but made herself useful helping rub down horses and care for tack.

Though Rider Groups often joined the Own and Kel was half-familiar with many this was the first time she'd ridden with a single group, or in a military party evenly divided between men and women. Amid the misery of the dust she found herself fascinated by the easy mutual joshing of the Riders, sometimes blue and often funny. It made her think about the pages she'd been teaching, especially the present first year, with three girls out of seven. There would be no comparison between their experiences and her eight years as the only female page or squire, and while she wouldn't go back for the world she did feel wistful at the difference even one female companion would have made.

In Queensgrace Kel considered avoiding Alvik's inn but there wasn't much choice and Tobe reluctantly agreed to put a brave face on it. The fat innkeep's face grew sour when he saw who it was, but he'd heard enough stories about the Protector that when Kel, consciously in command mode, required stabling, food, and lodging for twenty on the King's business he jumped. As they were removing cloth wraps and rubbing down the leader of Group Askew, Miri Fisher, sidled up to her.

"I take it you don't care for Alvik, Lady Kel. Any particular reason? He's been odd this year but I've never seen the old goat jump like that."

Brushing Alder more vigorously than was needed Kel told Miri how she'd come by Tobe, and (carefully not naming Neal) what an offended mage who'd seen his brutality had done to him. Miri stared.

"Like the Chamber did to that Vinson fellow?"

"That's where the idea came from, I think."

"Ouch. I knew the man was an old lecher but I didn't know he was like that. D'you want me to pass word?"

Kel shook her head. "Not unless he tries anything with Tobe. And if he does he's mine, and mincemeat. Tobe doesn't want to make anything of it—just to forget, I think—but I'll not stand any nonsense."

"Got it, Lady Kel."

Either bully's cowardice ran true or Alvik simply knew which side his bread was buttered, and was as obsequious in manner as his eyes were spitting dislike the while. He also had the sense not to try anything with Tobe, fawning or bullying, and kept himself out of sight as much as possible. Even so Kel and Tobe were glad to be away at dawn, but thereafter the cold and unmelted snow increased remorselessly, and by the time they reached Bearsford March was only a day away and the problem no longer dust but slogging through snowdrifts in the teeth of a constant, lazy wind. After they'd settled themselves in the Drunken Carter with much needed stew, Kel called everyone together and asked Ranarl, the former bowyer who ran the inn, to attend too.

"Tomorrow's going to be brutal, people. It's thirty-some miles from here to New Hope, so we'll probably camp out tomorrow night. And I'm guessing that while the Great North Road won't be too bad the Greenwoods trail will have deep snow."

Ranarl nodded. "We've seen folk from Mastiff, Lady Kel, but none from New Hope since the snows."

"Thank you. So we'll be breaking trail. Alder can do a lot but are there horses we can hire? Big ones? The Riders will bring them back."

"I've a couple of plough horses and some heavy horseblankets. No tents though, and it'll be bad cold in the Greenwoods."

"Thank you, Ranarl—that'll help. There'll be plenty of deadwood but we'll need kindling and oil, and we'll have to pack food with something to heat them in. Milk and water too, and grain. Everyone dress double, even treble tomorrow—I'll be wearing everything warm I have, even if it makes me waddle—and we'll aim to be gone an hour before dawn. Ranarl, can you do big breakfasts for half-an-hour before that?"

"No problem, Lady Kel."

There were groans from the Riders and Miri stood. "You heard Lady Kel, boys and girls —sound advice all. We're in a warzone, in case you'd forgotten, so deal with weapons now. Make sure bowstrings are good, blades clean and dry. Then get some sleep—and no canoodling. Save it for peacetime because you'll need the energy."

Remembering what Raoul had told her about problems when men and women in the same Rider Group became lovers, Kel was surprised and quietly asked Miri if it was an issue.

"Not really, Lady Kel—it used to be, before the men were used to women who fight and don't have families watching them like hawks, and it can be with new recruits who've never been in mixed groups. But they've learned to keep bed and battle separate. I only mentioned it because Marna and Forlan are at that will-we–won't-we stage, and getting close to we-will—but not tonight."

Kel supposed she and Cleon had been at that stage for a while before it had become we-

won't. "My understanding was out-of-date. Raoul warned me when I was a squire that a woman getting involved with a man they had to command tended to work badly."

"He's right, but that's command. And it's changed fast—I've been a Rider thirteen years now, and everyone was jumpier when I started. More so for you, I imagine, as a knight."

"You could say that. As a page, if a boy was in my room the door had to be open, and vice versa, on pain of dismissal. And though Raoul was nicer it wasn't that different in the Own, but I was the only woman."

"Gods. Wouldn't have suited me, Lady Kel." Miri flashed a grin. "But that was before Evin and I got together."

Kel went to bed envious of Miri's ease. She knew Riders didn't train in the same way because they didn't wear full armour or joust, and the older woman was smaller and curvier, but it wasn't only her own body-shape that was the problem, or even the malevolent desire she seemed to rouse in men like Torhelm; there was her awkward self-consciousness about her difference from what the men she'd been attracted to had wanted. Yuki's peppery plumpness had sent signals to Neal her muscular stoicism never had, and Dom was all for slim ankles and well-filled gowns. Drifting off, she wondered how he was and realised she'd not seen Duke Baird since the King's Ball; perhaps he'd gone to Masbolle.

She woke to breakfast smells and they were on their way within the hour, finding the Great North Road better than hoped. A mule train had been somewhere recently—Mastiff, she presumed—and the snow in the centre of the roadway was packed down. In the pre-dawn dark it was slippery with ice, but as the sun rose the going became easier and they made excellent time through the morning. The halt for lunch was brief but even so it was mid-afternoon when they came to the southern end of the Greenwoods valley. The sun had disappeared and the wind was picking up; they were in for a bad night—worse if a blizzard got going. The snow in the valley lay deep and undisturbed, only the lie of the land telling her they were in the right place. Without the river, swift even this close to its source, following the trail would have been guesswork.

They reorganised themselves, Alder taking point, the two plough horses behind to widen the trail he blazed. Nowhere was the snow less than three feet deep, with drifts twice that, coming well up his chest. Even this late in winter it was powdery and the horses were able to thrust it aside, but progress was slow. Each half-hour Kel rotated them, letting the plough horses take point in turn, but as the light began to fail the distant bulk of the fin told her they were still five miles from New Hope. The wind was gusting unpleasantly, and it was clear they'd have to push on in the dark, guided by the noise of the river—but the horses needed rest and food did no good until it was in their bellies. Alder had broken through a deep drift into an area of shallower snow, and woodeaves were close, so with the ostlers and Tobe she got the horses and ponies standing together for mutual shelter and fed them oats while Miri took ten Riders to collect deadwood.

This far from New Hope there was plenty and they made smaller cooking fires and a large one for warmth. Group Askew had a mage, Anya, to start them, but without dry kindling and oil she'd have had a hard time of it; sheltered from the wind by people and horses, Irnai emptied tubs of stew into one cauldron and melted snow in the other before adding soup balls and vegetables, courtesy of the innkeep. Hot food cheered everyone. They'd packed loaves that careful turning by the fires warmed into pliability, and ragged slices mopped bowls nicely.

"I know we're tired, people—horses too—but I think we have to push on. I don't like this wind and if it's going to blizzard we need to be as close as possible before it gets bad. Anya, can you cast light?"

"Some, Lady Kel, but not much nor long. Emergencies or obstacles, yes; continuously as

we ride, no."

"Fair enough. Let's take brands then, and light those lamps. Miri, can you see to that? Tobe, tell the horses there's shelter in five miles. Everyone else, get packed and sorted."

It didn't take long with the wind to encourage them and after kicking snow over the embers they set off again. The area of shallower snow wasn't bad, and the next two drifts wide but not too deep, Alder forcing through without difficulty, but the third, a mile and some on, was higher than his head and only lessened perilously close to the river. With Miri holding an almost exhausted brand and Anya casting light Kel led Alder carefully off the trail until the drift was low enough for him to see over the top. He peered, gave her a long-suffering look and set to. Kel made the others wait, stamping feet and swinging arms, and when he'd made it half way through she backed him out, taking one of the ploughhorses in to break the rest of the way.

Eventually they were able to regain the trail, and for a long stretch going was better though the wind gusted with unpleasant strength. As she clomped along Kel realised the snowscape must be an effect of the fin, channelling wind from the long fetch up the valley to heap what fell beyond into drifts and troughs. There were still two miles to go and she feared there would be at least one more drift, bigger still—a foreboding confirmed as a great white slope reared ahead, spicules streaming from its top. It was tall and steep enough to make going over impossible but did create a sizeable lee. When they were all within it, huddling, Kel and Miri made sure everyone could still feel toes and fingers, while Tobe and the shivering ostlers gave the horses the last oats.

"If we stop at all we stop here—there's no better shelter. But if we tunnel through this one we should be within a mile or so of the bridge."

Tired as they were no-one wanted to stop, so Kel used Alder to break a trail into the drift until it reached head height, and then with the Riders' trenching shovels they took turns scooping and chopping. It was exhausting in thick clothing and they rotated every five minutes, those not at the front helping pack down snow shovelled back. As the tunnel lengthened and the lantern became a necessity, Anya used tiny bursts of power to ice walls and roof, inhibiting collapse. Near the centre of the drift the overburden made for harder, compacted snow, safer but more tiring to dig. Miri was taking a turn when she called for silence. Everyone stopped, but faint noise continued.

"Lady Kel, I think someone's digging through from the other side."

Kel's mind kicked into gear. "I've no idea who or what but no-one at New Hope could see us on this side of the fin, so assume hostiles. Back out everyone. Blades loose, bows strung. Miri, stay until you think they're close so we have warning."

Horses and children went to one side, and Riders arrayed themselves to cover the tunnel, Kel crouching with the lantern to give Miri light. Tension rose but it was only minutes before she came back.

"They're close enough I could hear voices, but I couldn't make out the language."

Kel left the lamp where it would show whatever came out. "Miri, have five Riders turn their backs. If we're watching that lantern we'll be blind to anything that comes any other way."

"Right." She gave orders, and Kel set herself in the middle of the semi-circle. She didn't have her bow but Griffin was loose in its sheath and her glaive in hand. It seemed a long time before they heard snow fall and a voice exclaim in a language Kel didn't know but recognised.

"Who is there?"

"Protector? Is that you?"

This time the call was in Common and Kel relaxed slightly as Whitelist came into view, a bow in his hands with an arrow nocked but pointing down. He wore a heavy jacket over his human parts.

"Yes, with the children and a Rider Group. Bows down, everyone."

"We are sheltering herds in your corral and saw fires up the valley." He came to the mouth of the tunnel and scanned them before calling. "All's well—it's the Protector with a small party. Clear the tunnel."

"We owe you a debt, Whitelist—it's been harder going than I expected with these drifts."

"It is a small return for food and shelter that has kept our herds alive. As we did not know who was coming we preferred to find out. Come, the way is clear."

The horses weren't keen on the tunnel but with Alder leading and Tobe to persuade they passed through. The centaurs' tunnel was more impressive than their own—higher and wider, snow packed hard and flat at the sides—and as Kel emerged she saw why. The centaurs on the far side had boards strapped to jacketed arms, and could tackle snow with horse legs and bulk and human dexterity. The end of the fin loomed to their right, and white water gleamed in the rapids; the wind was fierce.

"We will return to our mates, Protector. The way is clear to the stone bridge, and while there is drifting on the way to the moatbridge it is not bad—the wind is too strong there for much to accumulate. Your people have kept the way to the gate clear, when the wind does not do it for them, so you should not have trouble."

"Thank you, Whitelist. You're doing alright yourself?"

"We are. The cold does not bother us though snow is a nuisance."

"Alright. Thank you again. If you come up in the next day or two I have news about possible trade you might like."

"I will do so. Farewell, Protector."

They cantered downtrail, scoured almost clear of snow, evidently heading for the stone bridge themselves. Wearily everyone remounted, the ostlers tying the plough horses on the string with the pack animals, and they set off, Kel and Miri leading with the children behind them. Wind aside, it was the easiest part of the journey since they'd left the Great North Road and once they crossed the Greenwoods and were close to New Hope's glacis they moved out of the gusts funnelling past the fin. Kel was glad to see that despite conditions sentries were alert, and as they crossed the moat mage light flared above the gate.

"Who goes there?" Mikal's voice was a stentorian bellow and Kel grinned, raising her own to the pitch that cut across a battlefield.

"Lady Kel and Group Askew, Mikal, back from sunny Corus."

He was waiting in the gateway, sword drawn until he could see them clearly and be sure there was no illusion. Then he ordered the gates opened properly, light spilling out.

"You must be frozen, my Lady. We weren't expecting you for a month at least."

"Long story, Mikal, that can wait. But get food for twenty cooking, please and have someone sort barracks for the Riders."

He gave crisp orders and soldiers went running. Seeing the Honesty Gate Kel fought a quick battle and took the only proper option, halting under the lintel to state her name and benevolence to New Hope. As the children followed her cue curiosity outweighed any resentment and Group Askew passed through quickly enough with the ostlers, all looking around with astonishment at the vista before them. Snow lay thickly and was heaped on the green, but paths and shelf had been shovelled clear and crystal magelights glowed softly along the inner wall and wherever main paths met. In the innermost corner an odd light gleamed against the cliff, and though Kel knew it was from a hidden magelight outside the cave entrance it looked beautiful but eerie. Miri came up beside her.

"This is an amazing place, Lady Kel."

"It's home."

Kel spoke without thinking, but saying it she knew it to be true.


	15. Chapter 13

Assessment

Part IV – Ostara

March – June 462 HE

Chapter Thirteen — Assessment

March–April

The Riders were welcome company for people who'd seen no strangers for three months, and stayed a day to look around and recuperate. Giving them the tour Kel was astonished by how much had been achieved. The crystal lights were courtesy of a Company Fourteen mage, Varik, who had a strong light spell, basilisks, who'd petrified ice, and Quenuresh, who'd taught Varik to set his light into crystal; but if they were the most obvious change they were not the only one.

Retreat to the caves had focused energies on how best to use them and there were a host of improvements, besides babies that had been born. Magelights hung everywhere on webbing, floors had been levelled, passageways widened, and food storage areas had rock shelves and curtains; another hung across the main entry. The prison-cell had been excavated on the side towards the fin and equipped with a massive iron-banded door; if Kel sincerely hoped she'd never have to use it she was comforted to know there was somewhere secure at need. The enlarged loom chamber remained the centre of gossip, repainted in cheerful colours, floored in wood, and provided with a small fireplace and range for making tea and snacks; without a chimney only the driest wood could be used, but the stack in the first chamber had seasoned well.

Progress on the lookout post exceeded Kel's best hopes. The spiral was complete, opening into the crack that led to the cliff-face, but they had waited to do more until Kel could decide what exactly she wanted. Kuriaju and Petrin, leader of the miners, showed her, receiving warm congratulations with embarrassment on Petrin's part; whether Kuriaju's deepened blue was an ogre blush Kel wasn't sure.

"The question, Lady Kel, is how we shape the opening." Squatting, he pointed. "It's wide but not high, and its upper edge is a natural arch. The roof there is also arched, and I do not think it good to change it."

"Me either, Lady Kel." Petrin cupped his hand, palm down, showing her. "As it is it's strong and good, but if we mess with it we'll need a lot of shoring and bracing and it'll never be as safe."

Kel considered. "What about the floor? Can you lower that so there's a … parapet, I suppose?"

Ogre and miner exchanged glances, and Kuriaju nodded. "I don't see that would be a problem. The projecting shelf that hides the opening from below is formed by denser rock, and we would only be cutting into that. How big should the chamber be?"

"For up to four people, with blocks for heating."

"That's alright." Petrin scratched his chin. "So we're creating the chamber by dropping the floor, what, four foot. Mmm. Do you want a little guardroom as well? Back from that arch roof there's no difficulty."

"Um, alright. But only to make tea or heat a snack, not big enough for a bed—there's no point providing temptation."

Petrin grinned. "Right you are, Lady Kel."

"Make it so we can hang a curtain across the access. We don't want cold wind blowing right into the caves."

"Of course."

"And keep the access wide enough for only one person at a time—one being, rather. Gods know I'm not expecting anyone to have to defend themselves here but there's no point needlessly forgoing any advantage."

"That makes it easier." Kuriaju smiled. "We are glad you're pleased. It was interesting to cut the spiral and it is good to have a lookout."

So it was—but the other excavation was altogether more uncertain. The immortals had been enlarging quarters at the back of the first chamber, towards the fin, as a space for Quenuresh and her kin but in the process come to the fin itself and made a discovery. Its hard rock had been a natural barrier, and except for the gallery they hadn't cut into it at all, but here, deep underground, they found a crack running through it, as if a great wedge had broken away, settling deeper while the rest stayed in place. The smallest adult spidren had squeezed in and explored, reporting that she thought it ran clean through the fin but a large chamber in the middle blocked the way; she could see the crack continuing on the far side.

"I think it is from water that found some weakness there and has hollowed it over centuries."

Kel and Brodhelm were standing with Kuriaju and Petrin in Quenuresh's chamber and peering at the crack.

"Could it be bridged?"

"I see no reason why not."

"And on the far side we'd come out inside the corral?"

"I do not know how high the ground is on that side. You would have to measure and survey."

"Mmm."

In one sense it was gold, for if they could make a passage to the corral it would be possible to sally. In another it could be terrible weakness, for a way out was a way in, and all New Hope's defences would do no good if there were an open back door. Thanking spidrens and others Kel and Brodhelm retired to her office.

"I'm in two minds about this, Brodhelm."

"I'm in three, my Lady."

Kel raised an eyebrow. "Sallying, a back door, and what's the third?"

"Safety—that central chamber sounds a hazard. And the effort it'll take. That fin is hard— the gallery has taken months and this would be massively larger. Is it the best use of our miners?"

"I don't know. What else would you want them doing?"

"Well, the lookout post. And if we need one secure cell we might need more."

"True. But the lookout won't take much longer, and it's the priority until it is. And that central chamber might be an opportunity as much as a problem. I'm sure bridging it would be hard but a bridge can have mageblasts, and if there were a defensive position on this side of it …"

"No-one would be coming in. I hadn't thought of it like that."

"It's only an idea. But I don't think we can afford to ignore a chance to create a sally port. It's bothered me most—even before we use the roadway pits we're locked into defence, and once we do we're trapped."

"What did you do at Haven?"

"We had a hidden sally port like the ones at Mastiff and Steadfast. Daine insisted so horses could get out, and Numair concealed them so only a black robe could find them. There was one at Giantkiller too."

"I only knew about Mastiff's. Could Master Numair help us here?"

"Maybe, if he comes this way. Daine's pregnant, so he may not be travelling. He did want to see the skullroad, though."

There was silence as they mulled it.

"You want to do it then, my Lady?"

"I think I do. One horse high and wide, with every defence we can think of—bridge, barred iron gates, and defence points where anyone with a crossbow can shoot from good cover. We'll have to do something about the corral too—better walls with alures and a moat, for starters. And a proper gatehouse."

"There's no spring there to feed the moat. Stagnant water will freeze in winter and won't be good in summer."

"Mmm, but that ground slopes a bit. We'll dig a sough connecting with the Greenwoods at each end, to fill and drain. If we get it right it'll look after itself, the way the main moat does."

He looked at her admiringly. "You've answers for everything. Shall I organise a survey once the weather's broken? We can't start here until Quenuresh goes."

"Please—but we'll need somewhere else spidrens can use at need, so we can start on that. And if Whitelist comes up, as I asked him, we can assure him he'll have winter use. I was surprised by the help he gave us coming in and I'd like to cultivate that goodwill."

So plans were drawn up, and if Kuriaju and Petrin muttered about finrock Kel thought they were pleased to have another large project. She was pleased herself but decided not to say

anything to Vanget before it was clear whether it would work and how long it might take.

There were simpler pleasures of reunion. Jump and the sparrows were overjoyed to see her and Tobe, and both woke each morning with company; Kel found herself accompanied everywhere by Nari, eager to bear messages. Peachblossom and Hoshi were equally pleased and let her know with horsehair and slobber. The gelding's leg was less painful as bone knitted, and he had continued night rounds; but both horses were bored and eager for spring. They welcomed Alder with startled looks as his new intelligence registered, and Kel left them to gossip.

Yuki, visibly pregnant, was more restrained, as befitted a Yamani noblewoman, but very happy to see Kel and said so several times. Her health was good, her pregnancy progressing well, and she was happy with Neal, but she'd felt very isolated in Kel's absence. The refugee women were friendly and, Kel knew from Fanche, liked Yuki, appreciating her hard work and skills and her reserved manners, but Yuki didn't have the touch Kel did. Given her Yamani rank her contact with anyone outside noble circles except servants had been limited, and with Tortallan commoners she was not only unsure how to unbend but deeply uncertain whether as the wife of a ducal heir she ought to do so, torn between Kel's example and awareness that not everyone approved; she also had her standing with Shinko as Crown Princess to consider. Kel sympathised, privately thinking she was worrying too much but knowing well what it meant to have a friend of the same sex to whom you could talk; she was also very aware Yuki didn't need to be at New Hope, and had come as much for Kel as to be with Neal. In consequence, after passing on Shinko's greetings and love, Kel learned more about pregnancy and its irritations, inconveniences, and joys than she wanted, but thought it a small price for Yuki's company.

Neal and Merric were also delighted and peppered her with questions about everyone they could think of. Some she answered promptly, assuring them Owen and Prosper had passed their Ordeals with the other squires, and soberly relaying to Neal the letter from Dom, Duke Baird's concerns, and the possibility the Carthaki metal would make a light enough brace. Other news she wanted to deal with only once and kept back until she took advantage of Quenuresh's presence to call a second meeting of the Council. Kel started with Tirrsmont having been caught lying and facing an enquiry of noble competence, but got no further for several minutes while the mortals, military and civilian alike, exclaimed satisfaction. Eventually she put on a half-stern face.

"There's a good deal more, and I'd like to be done before next week so hold discussion until afterwards, please. Now, that news I'll announce this evening—the former Tirrsmonters need to know. The rest is also public but whether you share it is up to you. I shan't be saying anything."

As barely as she could she told them about Torhelm and what had happened, adding in a flat voice what only Neal, Brodhelm, Uinse, and Quenuresh knew but she'd declared to everyone at the Queen's Ball; her parents' new status as the first ducal house of the Book of Copper; and the knife attack with its fallout at Torhelm and that fief's placement in royal administration. Before their eyes could stop widening or their hair subside she went on to the expected arrival of Master Orman's man, trade opportunities, and the fact that they'd be enjoying reduced port duties at Mindelan and Legann. Finally she added with a welcome sense of mischief that she'd offered a treaty to the stormwings who'd tracked her from Rathhausak, and they might receive visits from eighteen- and eighty-five-foot dragons to whom she'd extended invitations. The profound silence when she stopped was broken by Neal gently banging his head with a hand, and more seriously by Quenuresh.

"Protector, life has not been this interesting in a long time. Which stormwings, please?"

"The Stone Tree Nation."

"You spoke with Barzha Razorwing?"

"I did."

"May I ask the terms of the treaty you offered?"

"They roost here safely, we give them assistance with, um, egg -laying and care of their littles as needed, and they slay nothing nor play with any dead thing in this valley without my let. Oh, and Barzha can join this Council if she washes before meetings."

Quenuresh hissed laughter. "Priceless." Her expression stilled. "And a very interesting move. You seek to constrain the timeway."

Kel shrugged. "I don't think I can, but I'm playing the odds, yes. Shakith's given no sign of disapproval to me or to Irnai."

"Nor will she, I think. Which dragons?"

"Kawit Pearlscales and Lord Diamondflame."

Quenuresh showed real surprise. "Ah. Kawit is the opal dragon who came here four years back from Carthak?"

"Yes. A very nice being."

"Opal dragons usually are. Diamondflame is another matter. May I ask how in three realms you managed to encounter him?"

"He came to Corus to visit Skysong. He's her grandsire." "Ah. And what does he want with New Hope?"

"The skullroad. He told me about the original, and the dragons he called Flamebreath and Golden Eggs."

Quenuresh hissed more loudly, making Nari peep. "Astonishing. But you say he may come?"

"He said he was going to see what Rainbow Windheart thought."

The spidren shook her head admiringly. "Protector, you do not do things by halves. For those here who do not know we are talking of the two oldest and most powerful dragons alive. Rainbow Windheart has a hundred centuries under his wings and governs the Dragonmeet. And Barzha Razorwing is as old as I. So we have gods, mortals, People, basilisks, spidrens, ogres, griffins, and centaurs, and may gain stormwings and dragons, or at least their blessing. I begin to understand why the timeway rests so heavily on this place."

No-one else did except, dimly, Kel herself, and neither she nor Quenuresh were saying more. Instead, after telling Quenuresh that her parents sent formal thanks and would like to forge a treaty with spidrens at Mindelan, she turned the babble back to Master Orman.

"I had an idea about that. Fanche, I'd like to commission the finest dinner service our wood turners can make—the thinnest wood, most beautiful grain, plates in different sizes, jugs, the lot—and another only slightly less fine. And Var'istaan, I'd like to commission the basilisks to petrify them as superbly as you can. The best one will be a late wedding present from New Hope for Prince Roald and Princess Shinkokami, the other a gift for Lord Imrah, who's doing us a considerable favour. Both will naturally display their gifts and it should set up demand for our wares. Oh, and Quenuresh, I don't know if you like Carthaki cheese but Master Orman thought

there might be a trade for webbing to seal against dust as well as winter trade in Yaman, northern Tortall, and Galla. I didn't think you'd mind getting money for old rope."

"Indeed not."

"Good. And I don't know what if anything the centaurs might want to trade for or offer, and I want as many arrows as they make, but that bit of news I'll be passing to Whitelist too." She stood. "I'll leave you all to digest. I have a doll to deliver."

She was half way to the door before Merric found his voice. "Kel, you can't just leave it at

that."

"Watch me."

"But ... you said you …"

"Yes, I did. See you all at dinner."

She closed the door, blew a long breath—discussing one's own death was absurd as well as embarrassing and she'd done it enough for two lifetimes. Virtuously she went to find Meech, whose incredulous delight at his new doll's fiery hair was balm to her heart.

Only discipline had Group Askew, with ostlers, packhorses, and plough horses, on their way south again after only a day's rest, but it was good they went when they did for by nightfall there were snow flurries and by dawn a full blizzard. The wind was still north-east, whistling up valley and, with the channelling effects of the fin, glacis and palisades spared New Hope the worst of it, though eddies and gusts could always catch one unprepared and nothing stopped snow accumulating steadily on the main level. Weary from her journey, Kel watched with satisfaction as routines Brodhelm had worked out swung smoothly into play.

The caves remained warm and everyone bunked there, spreading palliases by night throughout the first, loom-, and what was starting to be called the look-out chamber, and stacking them by day. A tented latrine area was established near the entrance, and buckets emptied into soil carts parked on the level ground outside to await proper disposal; the dogs and cat were conscientious about going outside. Mining work accelerated, with more hands to haul cut stone or willing to set to with pickaxes, if only to avoid boredom; looms clacked busily from dawn to dusk, and practice drills were held in the first chamber. The stables and tented animal pens had to be kept heated, using basilisk blocks, and food was taken in the messhall where Weiryn's godlight took the edge off the cold; paths could not be kept clear but a squad with boards strapped to their boots tramped down snow.

The established Haven practice of older caring for younger kept children safe and entertained, though Tobe and Irnai could have managed it themselves with stories of events in Corus—less about gods than dragons, stormwings, and royal balls, with the great snowfight and Kitten's triumph. The bustle of the city also figured, and listening one afternoon Kel was surprised —pleased—to discover both children had understood how the Protector's Maids scheme worked and were regaling a fascinated audience, including adults, Amiir'aan, and spidrens, with a catalogue of shops. What anyone made of Irnai's stories of pre-Thanic history was moot, but Kel had a conversation with Neal that left them in stitches imagining the effects of some informed

comment, tradesman to scholar, about events barely in the oldest books.

On the military side double shifts based themselves in the gatehouse and rotated duty on the alures half-hourly. There were also, Kel found on a shivery inspection, heated blocks along the alures, supplementing braziers; in mid-shift St'aara or Var'istaan, unbothered by cold, made a circuit to reheat them. Sentries also had curiously oversize helmets, with thick linings and the oddest fronts—a fine meshed structure that kept snow out of their eyes, instantly melted flakes, and somehow allowed vision while deflecting wind. It was, Brodhelm informed her in a carefully neutral voice, petrified webbing Quenuresh and Var'istaan had devised, and ensured each sentry could see as well as possible. Deeply thoughtful, Kel sought out the immortals to thank them and ask how it was done.

"It is not difficult, Protector. Our webbing naturally resists wind and water, and you have had basilisks petrify so many things it seemed sensible to try. The mesh is finicky, easier for smaller spidrens, but straightforward in itself and good exercise for the young."

Var'istaan nodded. "The rock spell must be precisely used to retain the webbing's virtue and more power is needed for anything imbued with immortal qualities than for wood, but any adult basilisk could do it."

"Mmm. There could be considerable demand, military and civilian—anyone in a snowstorm would want one—and I'm wondering if you're happy with that and if so how to handle it. Mortal practices of manufacture and trade have a lot of custom and experience, but there aren't any models for immortal trade, let alone joint ventures. And if there is high demand and low supply we need to be careful about price."

There was a pause while the immortals looked at one another. Eventually Quenuresh gave a spidren shrug.

"For all our centuries, Protector, you have the advantage. Neither in the Divine nor mortal realm have I ever engaged in trade of this kind, but it is part of living in peace with mortals, and I welcome it."

"I too." Var'istaan's whisper was definite. "This is an interesting place with much to do. In the aftermath of the Immortals War we have found it difficult to find ways of interacting peacefully with mortals and New Hope has been a very good experience. I cannot speak for her but I believe St'aara wishes to stay with Amiir'aan—if you will also remain. Is this only while this war lasts or are you thinking beyond that?"

"Beyond. Tell me, do you think more of your own kinds will come?"

"I believe so. There are not many basilisks in the mortal realms but Tkaa has spread news of this place, and those within Tortall and its immediate neighbours are interested in what is happening here."

"The griffins have carried word, and I have had enquiries from other spidrens, but— forgive me—most have been preying on mortal livestock and are concerned about their safety from your laws."

Kel thought hard. "That I can deal with, Quenuresh. The king gave me power to make decisions about immortal treaties, so I can say if any immortal coming here is willing to sign and faithfully abide by a treaty, we won't ask where they've been or what they've been up to. A clean slate for the past, not a license for the future. Their governance I leave to you, so long as nothing contravenes our existing agreements."

"Very well. I will let that be known, but the wood will not support many more spidrens and we cannot live on cheese alone."

"We can work out where else we should designate—the valley to the east is within the military zone, unclaimed by any fief, and uninhabited except for itinerant trappers. You'd need to co-exist with them. As for the rest, we ought to get Kuriaju in on this, but it's been made clear to me that with peace New Hope will become a fief, and if I'm alive to claim it, granted me. I'm not easy about it—I wasn't thinking in those terms—but whatever happens it makes no sense to set up anything that'll have to be changed. So we need a way to protect everyone's interests—yours as craftsbeings—and New Hope's as a community." Kel sat back and counted on her fingers. "You need to be able to control how much work you accept, so the burden doesn't fall too heavily on any being and younglings are protected. We need to be clear about what we can and can't offer, what any given thing will or won't do—if any magical element is permanent, say, or will need renewing, and how fragile anything is. And we all need to be clear about how money or barter works—how much goes to the maker, or seller if someone else handles that, how much is tithed to New Hope to support things the realm is presently paying for. I think we should apply to the King to charter a Craftsbeing's Guild. Will you consult your kindreds and Kuriaju, and speak to Idrius? He's the only person here who's a guild-member, the Furtraders', and he can explain better than I how one works. Then we can decide what we want, and send papers south when roads open."

She left them in what was for immortals animated discussion, pleased with the many possible benefits and the thought of Turomot's face when those papers made it to his office. Kuriaju was at work on the look-out post but Kel found Idrius talking to weavers and seamstresses, and warned him what was coming, leaving him enthusiastically jotting down ideas. The savage beating Stenmun had given him had left nothing of the overbearing merchant Kel had once had to have stocked, and his knowledge was a resource she'd no intention of wasting.

The storm lasted five days, dumping feet of snow, but proved the last fury of winter. Almost as soon as the north-easterly wind died away it was replaced by a mild south-westerly blowing down valley; the sky cleared and air and sunshine between them had enough warmth to start a thaw. Improved drainage showed its worth as drifts melted away, and over the next week the Greenwoods rose in roaring spate: the rapids all but disappeared beneath the flow and the ford vanished under torrents churning wildly over the rock shelf to foam through the arches of the stone bridge. Colour returned to the valley fitfully, then in a rush as snow slid to expose grass and scrub. It was an exhilarating week, and as soon as fields started to emerge Adner had parties out to gather root-crops, with the soldiery happy to get back to guarding and patrolling.

The thaw brought other visitors—a supply train from Mastiff to add welcome variety to their diet, trappers wanting to exchange or sell furs, and Whitelist, fulfilling Kel's request and reporting the centaurs would move their herds out as soon as the river went down. Kel gave him some of the new food and explained the trade she was trying to cultivate. His initial wariness had ebbed, and he proved interested, going off to talk to the other immortals. On the best morning yet, the sun giving real warmth and slopes dotted with early flowers, Kel was contemplating paperwork and stroking Nari's head when Jacut stuck a pale face around her office door, eyes wide.

"Lady Kel, there's a bunch of stormwings circling in the valley and one shouted they want to talk to you."

"Good—I've been hoping they'd show up."

"You've been hoping …"

Kel grinned. "Yes. It should mean they've agreed to a treaty and will leave our casualties alone. Send someone for Sir Neal, please, and for Brodhelm, Quenuresh, and Var'istaan.

Gatehouse roof."

Shaking his head he went, and Kel collected unguent from her rooms, dabbing her nose and offering it to Neal when he caught up with her as she climbed the path to the shelf.

"What's up, Kel?"

"Barzha Razorwing, I hope. How's your stormwing pregnancy care?"

"Mithros! I've no idea."

"Well, Daine says the problem is large steel eggs and no hands, so basic stuff should make a big difference. I'll ask Barzha to explain whatever she can, and you'll need to make arrangements to provide, um, eggwifery as needed."

He was still spluttering as they emerged onto the roof, Quenuresh and Var'istaan close behind; Brodhelm was already there, and Kel passed him the unguent. In command mode she shouted for all sentries to hold fire, then went to the parapet and beckoned the immortals turning lazy circles or riding updrafts by the fin. There were at least twenty-five but only a half-dozen responded, gliding to perch on merlons—Barzha, Hebakh, the Yamani female, looking fatter, and the three who'd been with their queen at the palace. The mindless terror massed stormwings could induce flickered in Kel's heart, but she controlled it and, thinking of Barzha's response when they last met, gave her a short bow.

"Greetings to you, Queen Barzha, and to you Lord Hebakh, and all of the Stone Tree Nation. Be welcome to New Hope."

The queen's voice was ironic. "Greetings to you also, Protector of the Small. Being welcomed by mortals so politely is a new experience."

"I'm sure you'll get used to it, Your Majesty. This is Sir Nealan of Queenscove, our chief healer, and my second, Captain Brodhelm of Frasrlund. I don't know if you know Quenuresh and Var'istaan."

"Sir Nealan. You are important to us. Captain Brodhelm. Quenuresh, Var'istaan—it has been a long time."

Mortals, spidren, and basilisk murmured responses. Kel wondered how many immortals knew one another, but supposed if you'd spent millennia in the Divine Realms together the answer was probably most.

"Have you decided to accept the treaty offer? I have the King's authority to implement it."

"Still so direct, Protector. It is most un-mortal. Yes, we accept your offer, but only while this war lasts. What will come after none know."

"Excellent. I'll have documents drawn up. If you return in three days we can make the necessary mutual oaths. Meantime, roost where you will in the valley, and I'll give orders none molest you—pass that word, Brodhelm, with some sting. Please don't annoy the griffins, and be aware the centaurs are using the corral but are usually at the southern end of the valley. Is there anything you need?"

Barzha shifted, steel talons grating on the stone. "We have one with egg. Your promise of care is in part what has decided us."

"Right. Neal?"

"Um … Your Majesty, I have delivered human children but never, ah, attended a stormwing. And I do not know whether my healing Gift or mortal medicines will, um, work."

"It should, Sir Nealan." Quenuresh came forward. "As the healing Gift with the People, like Zerhalm's, can be effective for spidrens, so the healing Gift for mortals should be effective for the human parts of a stormwing, or centaur. Herbs are variable—many will work but doses will need to be larger."

"Ah … good. What about the spiral the Green Lady gave us? Will its virtue extend to stormwings if they are, um, in labour here?"

"That I cannot tell."

"You have a gift of the Green Lady?" Barzha's surprise was evident.

"Yes. It has virtue of the Great Goddess in it as well."

"She and the Goddess may aid us in this, if in nothing else."

"Ah, right … Then I will need to see the one who is, ah, with egg."

Kel decided briskness was in order. "Your Majesty, we will pray to the Green Lady for blessing. Can you arrange for the mother to talk to Sir Neal? She will need to be frank about the birth process."

The Yamani female cackled, breasts shaking. "I am the mother, Protector, and I have no problem being frank." As she was, like all stormwings, naked, Kel took the point and realised what she'd thought fatness was pregnancy, though not shaped as a mortal's would be.

"How about clean? There's lots of nice meltwater around."

Neal shot her a look of gratitude and the Yamani cackled again. "As you are being so un-mortal I will be un-stormwing and … wash!"

All the stormwings except Barzha laughed, even Hebakh, and Neal took a deep breath, choking slightly. "When are you due, um …?"

"Cloestra is my name. In about a month. The egg will incubate for several more before hatching."

"A month? How long have you, um …?"

"I conceived immediately after Rathhausak—the best meal you have given us, Protector. I had lots of energy, as Mander found out." She winked lewdly. "Our mating and gestation are similar to mortals'."

"Except you've no hands and it's a steel egg." Neal's mutter was audible only to Kel. "Then come tomorrow afternoon, Cloestra, as clean as possible, please, I'll see what I can do. The infirmary is the sixth building on that side." He pointed. "I will pray to the Green Lady this evening about the spiral."

Barzha shifted again, scraping. "As you are honourable without oath, Protector, I offer a token also. There is a party of what appear to be Scanran refugees approaching from the north. They crossed the Vassa where you did last summer, and we observed them take care to avoid Fort Giantkiller."

Kel's mind spun. "Thank you, Your Majesty. They took care to avoid Giantkiller?"

"They hid from two patrols that we saw."

"Mmm. Soldiers can be frightening. Still. May I ask how many?"

"Twelve. Three younglings. Anything more you must ask yourself, Protector."

"Of course. Thank you." Kel thought it wise not to be outdone. "Before you go, Your Majesty, let me tell you Lord Diamondflame was as intrigued as you by the skullroad, and told me more of the original. He may come to see it himself, and agrees with you about the timeway."

Irony again ran through Barzha's voice. "Ah. We felt him come and go. And somehow, Protector, I am unsurprised he spoke to you of a matter neither dragons nor anyone else will usually mention at all. This is an interesting time. Farewell."

All the stormwings dropped off the merlons, Cloestra flipping her tail rudely, and Neal let out a long-suffering groan as Quenuresh and Var'istaan hissed laughter.

"That was well handled, Protector. You continue to surprise. The timeway must judder with the pressure you apply."

"Never mind that." Neal was plaintive. "How am I supposed to deliver an egg?"

"The same way you deliver a baby, Neal, but with no arms or legs to get jammed." Kel had other things on her mind. "The real question is these Scanrans. Brodhelm, send someone for Zerhalm. I don't like the sound of them avoiding Giantkiller. If they know we'll take Scanran refugees why not make contact as soon as they could? Especially if they've littles. Maximum caution—two extra squads at the Gatehouse, bows and polearms. And all mages. Griffin bands, but we'll use the Honesty Gate with purpose. Get word to squad leaders in the fields—bring them up the roadway very carefully, however pitiful they seem."

"At once, my Lady."

The Scanrans were escorted in at spear's length by Ersen's squad in mid-afternoon—an older man leading three men and five women, three carrying toddlers. As they started up the roadway Kel stepped out from under the lintel and back several times: there were no illusions she could detect and the group was indeed pitiable, faces pinched as she had seen at Rathhausak and obviously exhausted children being carried by—presumably—their mothers. But something in Kel remained uneasy; she didn't know if it was a divine warning but she wasn't going to ignore it, and by the time they reached the top of the roadway she and Zerhalm were at the other end of the barbican with spearmen and archers arrayed along its sides. Brodhelm stood behind her, Jump at her side. She had asked Zerhalm to speak first.

"Come in under the gate lintel, please." Kel gave no sign she understood Scanran. "It is an Honesty Gate, containing griffin magic. You must state your names and declare you mean no harm to any at New Hope, and come of your own free will, owing no allegiance to King Maggur and under no orders from him nor any lord, Scanran or Tortallan."

Kel was watching faces as Zerhalm spoke and saw compressed lips flicker dismay in the older man and one woman carrying a child, so she was unsurprised when the requirements beyond naming proved beyond those two. Mouths opened but the lie would not come, and she saw archers' hands tauten.

"Hold!"

"Please, help us." It was the woman who held the youngest child—no more than a year— speaking accented Common, taking a step and another. "They name you Protector of the Small. Will you protect our children?"

"Hold fire." Kel switched to Common. "You come intending harm, or under orders. There can be no refuge for you at New Hope."

The woman took another step, and Jump growled. "Yes, Maggur sent us to spy on you. He holds our families hostage." There was no hesitation in her voice, so that was true, but she was getting closer. "But the babes are innocent. I beg you, shelter them."

"Stop where you are, lady. Come no closer."

She ignored Kel and took another few paces, holding out the baby. "Take him, please. Turn us away if you must, but take him. Save him."

Another step brought her within five paces of Kel and she held the child up, making him whimper. Jump's growl deepened.

"Take him, Protector, I beg you."

Four paces, three, and Kel's instincts were screaming at her both to save the child and to back away when the woman thrust herself and the child forward, hands reaching. Kel's arms lifted to receive him and green light flared at her wrist. Before she could remember what it meant her legs propelled her backwards, away from the hand that suddenly held a dagger, and Sergeant Olleric's bow twanged. Whether anyone shouted Kel wasn't sure, though she heard Jump bark: her gaze was locked on the woman as she stared dully at the shaft in her chest. The dagger dropped from a nerveless hand, clattering as blood spilled from her mouth and the child wailed; for a dreadful moment Kel thought he would fall, but the woman sank to her knees before the arm holding him relaxed and he tumbled to the ground, crying in earnest. The woman fell on her face, snapping the shaft of the arrow.

"Gods, my Lady … she … I …"

"It's alright, Olleric. She offered harm and you did right. Don't touch that dagger, Jump."

Not to scoop up the crying child was perhaps the hardest thing Kel had ever done; instead she extended her arm cautiously towards him, waving it back and forth. Nothing. Ignoring the child with a convulsive swallow she waved her arm over the woman's body. Nothing. Shifting a few paces on trembling legs she held her hand over the fallen dagger and green light flared again as the stone in Numair's bracelet lit. Stooping, Kel peered closely , seeing the way the metal dulled at the tip.

"The blade is poisoned. Forist, gather it using cloth and wrap it. Be very careful. That may be mage-made poison on the tip. Sir Neal or Quenuresh might tell us." To her own ears Kel's voice was weirdly calm and she busied herself picking up the child and trying to shush him on her hip. Then she looked at the Scanrans. The older man's face was resigned, the others' horrified, and she addressed him in Scanran.

"There is no further purpose in lying. Maggur sent you to kill me?"

He shrugged. "To spy, to do what harm we could, to kill you or any who fought at Rathhausak if we might. Freja was niece to Stenmun Kinslayer, whom you slew. She hated you with much passion."

Kel's heart was frozen, her voice only cool. "Is the child hers?"

"Yes."

"And the father?"

"None knows. She was … close to her uncle, and no questions were asked when he forbade them."

Kel refused to think about the implications of that; no child was responsible for its parentage. "She said your families are held hostage."

"They are. My wife. These couples' parents. Freja's elder son."

"Will you take the child?"

He stared at her. "Take him where?"

"Back to Hamrkeng or wherever Maggur is."

"You will let us go?"

"There is no place for you here. But we will keep the child—all the children, if you wish. They are innocents, whatever your dishonour."

"Dishonour?" His laugh was harsh. "There is no honour in Scanra."

"I know it. Zerhalm of Rathhausak knows it. That is why we will take the children. Her name was Freja Haraldsdottir, as she said?"

"Yes."

"We will bury her in Haven, despoiled by the Kinslayer, and mark her stone."

One of the women fell to her knees. "Protector of the Small, if you will take my nephew, do so. His parents are dead. He will have a better chance here than in Maggur's land."

"Give him to the nearest soldier, very carefully." She looked at the other woman with a child. "And you?"

"My son does not leave me."

"As you will. We will give you food and escort you back to the Vassa crossing. Brodhelm, detail four squads to ride out as soon as maybe, please, and make up trail rations for ten for five days."

"My lady, you—"

"Do it. Go."

He went.

"You can bear a message to King Maggur. There is no entry here for his spies and assassins, no matter how many hostages he holds. All gods despise him for necromancy and the Black God gives special comfort to the children Blayce murdered. His judges await Maggur eagerly and if he is wise he will abandon his evil and do penance on his knees."

The Scanran's laugh was harsh. "You think Maggur Reidarsson will listen to your

fantasies of the gods?"

The hand not holding the still whimpering child rose to Kel's chest, tracing the gods' circle. "I, Keladry of Mindelan, do swear I speak truth of the Black God, heard from his own lips and those of the Goddess." Hounds belled and wind soughed, echoing in the barbican, and the Scanrans flinched. Kel saw with interest that her soldiers did not. "He will listen if he is wise or his death will be beyond imagining. Now go, grateful there is honour yet in Tortall. Sergeant Connac's men will take you to the foot of the roadway to await escort."

It took a while for the escort to assemble and Kel managed to quiet the child on her hip before hardening her heart, and looking at Zerhalm.

"Will you take them, Zerhalm, or should I ask Fanche to place them with Tortallan mothers?"

Zerhalm's face was wondering. "We will take them, Lady Kel, and grant them comfort of their own tongue. You are generous."

"They are children."

"I meant to the adults."

"More of Maggur's victims. And their return alive, discovered before they could enter, is a better message than their deaths."

He bowed to her and took the little boy. Settling him on his hip, he gestured with his free arm to the soldier who held the other child. "Come, Lendor. They need food and warmth." They left together, trying to still the children's whimpering as their worlds spun, and Kel forced her brain to work.

"One of you, go for Sir Neal, please. The body must be searched and wrapped for burial. Get her into the guardroom, please, Brodhelm. And beware more poisoned weapons."

It was an ugly task, and they found nothing save weapons—another dagger in a boot, a thin, nasty-looking knife strapped to her inner thigh, a hair-clasp and brooch with pins razor-sharp and long enough to kill, and a stoppered vial. Quenuresh, sniffing carefully, said it had no magical ingredient but was deadly.

"I guess it is a concentrate of wolfsbane and dwale. Even a touch on the skin might kill a mortal. It should burn in the hottest smithy fire."

The woman's funeral was depressing, despite sunshine. There was muttering about burying an enemy at Haven but Kel was unmoving, and the woman laid to rest beside the tauros victims. Only she spoke, naming the woman, regretting the forces of war that brought her to die at New Hope, and promising care of her son in a better future. She ended by praying the woman find the Black God's peace all must crave beyond their deaths, and chimes sounded; soldiers who'd complained had the grace to look ashamed. A headstone Kel commissioned was put up a week later: Freja Haraldsdottir—Died March 462—A Victim of Maggur.

There was better news regarding Cloestra. Even Neal admitted the stormwing had been remarkably clean if not scent-free when she'd come and professional interest overcame distaste. The Green Lady had responded to prayers with a vivid dream of how to check a stormwing's egg was the right way round, and rotate it if it weren't, and that had proven what was needed.

"It's like a breech birth but an egg seems more prone to rotate and they've no way of manipulating it except magic, which she said doesn't work well. But any being with hands can. I

almost feel sorry—half their problems could be fixed if anyone helped. You'd think someone would."

Kel was reminded of something Daine had hesitantly said about tauroses having constant urges, few brains, and no mates. What did one expect? And couldn't gods arrange it better? Even Kel hadn't been able to disagree, and listening to Neal felt her dislike of stormwings fade.

Vanget was less than happy with Kel's report, scowling ferociously into the spellmirror as he listened.

"A poisoned dagger? Assassins' weapons? Gods. And you let 'em go?"

"I had them escorted back to the Vassa and seen over it. I thought it might do us more good than executing people who were coerced."

"Maybe." Kel had balked at the thought of executing young couples and suspected Vanget knew it. "Sir Myles might have something to say—he always wants answers. And more information would have been useful if we're going to have to watch for fake refugees."

"I suppose so—but I wasn't about to authorise torture, Vanget. Fake refugees will aim for New Hope anyway, and that the woman was Stenmun's niece suggests personal attack, not strategy."

"Huh. Do you think the boy's really his son?"

"He's as blond as Stenmun but so are most Scanrans. In any case, he's an innocent."

"You don't believe in apples falling close to apple trees, then?"

"Not really. I think it's more like the servant revealing the master. I see children here changing all the time because they're being treated differently—they've more responsibilities but they're getting a better education than most would in their villages or at Tirrsmont, and they don't go hungry or get beaten. It's like Kitten—Daine's dragonet. Her grandsire says she's more advanced than other dragonets, because living in the mortal realms she's had to do much more much younger, and she's met more beings. It rubs off."

Vanget shook his head. "Dragons. Oh well. I'll pass word to beware trickery. We could do with an Honesty Gate like yours."

"I'll ask Quenuresh to ask the griffins if they can come and do one." His eyebrows rose. "Just like that?" "How else? They can only say no." "Huh. What would they want in return?"

"I've no idea, Vanget. Fish, maybe. I'll ask. Just make sure no-one shoots at them if they do turn up—they're a bit haughty and abrupt at the best of times."

He laughed. "Right you are. Now, what's this about helmets?"

Wyldon was equally unamused. He detoured to New Hope on his way back to Mastiff, bringing Prosper, assigned to Kel's command, and Seaver, as well as the soldiers who'd been on leave and had fallen in with him. Owen and two new knights were assigned to Northwatch —"The lad needs experience of other commands"—but the other two, Erik of Brightleigh and Willem of Trucha, assigned to Mastiff and Steadfast, were also with the former training master. Kel gave yet another tour, in brisk mode, and didn't recognise the heroine-worship behind their surprised looks until she left the knights with Brodhelm and Uinse to discuss how patrols were managed, and Wyldon dryly pointed it out.

"You're joking!"

"Not at all, Keladry. They already envied Sir Prosper his assignment and you've doubled that. Quite a change from a year ago—the refugee camp being the plum."

She had to appreciate the irony, but the dryness left his voice when she told him about Freja Haraldsdottir.

"Mithros! So you've survived two assassination attempts in as many months—one from a Tortallan and one from a Scanran. It's a bad habit."

"Surviving them?"

He gave her a severe look. "I'm glad you can be so resilient about it. I doubt you feel like

that."

"No, it's … wearing. And it eats at Tobe. At least the child is too young to understand, and can be comforted by simple kindness."

"Mmm. Still. There's been no news of Sir Guisant or that steward, by the way—they seem to have vanished altogether."

"Or they're holed up somewhere like Runnerspring or Genlith."

"So we think, but with Torhelm in administration a search of Runnerspring or any noble land would be, ah, ill-advised."

"And probably fruitless. I know. What about Tirrsmont?"

"The enquiry began last week, and Turomot has taken your depositions into evidence with Tirrsmont's perjury. It's clear he falsified records to save tax on his silver, so there's not much doubt the enquiry will find him guilty of fraud and gross maladministration, and rule refusal to shelter so many liegers in wartime constitutes breach of his liege-oath. Turomot's minded that way on the evidence so far."

"Will Voelden inherit?"

"That's trickier, but I suspect not. He'd given a sworn statement supporting his father's perjury, and as that's what triggered the enquiry it doesn't make sense to force his succession. But there's no other lineal heir and the next is very distant so the fief will probably be dissolved. No-one's happy about that, but there's precedent and not much choice."

"So what happens to the people?"

"I don't know, Keladry. It's probable the rest of the commoners will end up here— Tirrsmont's troops are hired, not sworn, and if he can't pay them they'll not linger. And even

without politics we won't want to man it as well as Giantkiller. I've earmarked extra food for you in case."

"Alright, I'll prepare for what, two hundred more people?" "About that, yes."

"We might not need much extra food, though. The winter crop's been excellent—you'll be surprised by my inventory next calend. The Goddess's blessing, I believe, but whatever the reason I had thought we'd need less food from elsewhere than we have done."

"Well, that's good news. Food's the biggest cost after pay." "I know. There are other good things, too."

She showed him helmets and told him about plans for a Guild and its egalitarian terms. He shook his head, smiling.

"More innovations. The helmet's fascinating, and you're right the army will want them, and the Own, but you'll have the guildmasters up in arms, you know. And that's a far lower tithe than most overlords take."

"I'll have them queuing for immortal business, if I get it right. And I'm no overlord but I will make New Hope less of a burden on the realm."

"You've repaid every investment in this place a dozen times over."

Kel noted with relief such statements didn't make her blush any more. "Have I? Good— but that's no reason for us not to do all we can. And there's two things I didn't include in the tour but you should see."

She took him up to the lookout post, not quite complete but with room to stand once Kuriaju and Petrin withdrew. In the sunlight the view was spectacular, rockfall traps standing out above the sparkling foam of the river's spate, and with her spyglass a stretch of trail a good seven or eight miles down the valley was clearly visible.

"It won't save us from every raid, but if any large group heads our way we should have enough time to get everyone safely in. We're still blind the other way, though. I'd like to cut steps right up the fin and get a post up there—that would really be a view!—but it'll have to wait."

"I imagine." The dryness was back in Wyldon's voice. "This is remarkable enough. You've cut the tunnel up to here in one winter?"

"Kuriaju and Petrin have."

"My sincere congratulations—that's very fast work."

Petrin nodded awkwardly, self-conscious in the presence of a senior noble as he wasn't with familiar Lady Kel, but Kuriaju smiled.

"We had basilisk help, Lord Wyldon. In this limestone Var'istaan can turn a rockface the size of the tunnel into cut blocks in minutes. We have only to haul them away. The fin is harder— he can do it but more slowly and it takes much more magical power so he tires more quickly."

"Even so, Master Kuriaju. In Corus they'd have a dozen times the workforce and take three times as long."

"Perhaps they lack our incentive."

She took Wyldon down to where Var'istaan and others were working on the passage through the fin. Quenuresh and her kin had headed back to their wood days before and the first feet of the new tunnel had been cut. She explained what they'd found about the crack and how she planned to use the central chamber with the other possible defences.

"Ah, good. You had me worried but that does make a difference."

"I thought so, though Brodhelm wasn't happy, and that's partly why I'm being careful about telling people—there's no point shouting we've a back door. But with the bridged chamber as a lock to close the way if necessary I couldn't pass up a chance to create a sally port—having no offensive capacity was a real limitation. We'll need to improve the corral though, so I was wondering if Geraint and the building team might be available. We've plans and labour, but not expertise."

"I don't see why not. Giantkiller's finished and there's no major project this year, though they're doing a dozen picket stations and waypoints along the Vassa Road. We're hoping for better intelligence on where Scanrans are crossing. But once that's done I'll send them along."

"Thank you."

He stayed to eat amid the glowing pillars, and she introduced Prosper to everyone as well as welcoming Seaver back and naming the new knights. Afterwards, to her surprise, Erik rather stiffly asked her permission to pray at the shrines.

"Of course, Sir Erik." She remembered how conscious she'd been of her title in the months after her Ordeal and saw amusement in Wyldon's eyes at her careful use of Erik's. "You don't need to ask permission for that—just be careful what you pray for! The gods seem to listen rather closely here."

He was taken aback. "So I believe, Lady Knight. I confess that's my hope—my father is ill. Is there a reason I shouldn't pray for his health?"

"Of course not. I'm sorry—I shouldn't have been flippant. It's something both Wildmage and Lioness have said to me, though, and I've learned its truth the hard way this last year. When the gods grant what you ask it's not an easy experience. "

"Nor should it be, Lady Knight. I considered Mithran priesthood before training as a knight, and sound doctrine stresses the seriousness he demands and the power of his presence, at which none can laugh."

She could see piety in his eyes and decided not to tell him about Kitten's scolding of the foremost Great God, but his manner grated. "I expect it does, and though I've never met him the power's sure enough. I don't know I'd say seriousness, exactly, though. The Black God and Goddess value sincerity over earnestness. And Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady laugh a lot, while the Hag has a vile sense of humour. But any person's prayer is their own. You know your way?"

He did, and left glancing back over his shoulder with the look of a man whose head was spinning. Neal grinned and Yuki raised an eyebrow.

"That was wicked of you, Kel."

"Was it? I'm sorry about his father but he is rather earnest, and I've honestly seen little sign

the gods value that much. They prefer wit to intensity, I think. And what would Lord Sakuyo say?"

Wyldon's eyes were amused but there was something else there as well that puzzled Kel. "He just needs seasoning, Lady Yukimi, as all new knights do. And I confess I was struck myself by the laughter of Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady. I'd never really thought about gods other than the tricksters having much sense of humour, but I suspect Lady Keladry is correct it is sincerity rather than earnestness that matters—Lord Mithros is a soldier, after all, and must well understand that levity need not mean disrespect."

As they were leaving the messhall Kel laid a hand on Wyldon's arm. "Look—above the animal pens."

The magelights around the inner wall showed Peachblossom on his rounds, accompanied by Jump and looking up as a sentry called down to him that he was awake and alert and all was well.

"He has them reporting to him? Oh, that's good." A chuckle escaped, drawing a startled look from Sir Willem. "Goldenlake will be amused—I had the pleasure of startling him with the tale of your newest sergeant."

Kel hadn't seen Raoul since June and found herself missing him and his good humour.

She said as much and Wyldon nodded.

"I understand that. We often don't see eye to eye but he's a fine knight. It'll depend how things are, but we mooted a commanders' conference in July, at Mastiff probably, so you'll see him then."

That was something to look forward to, though Kel made a note to ask Numair, if he came, about spellmirrors. She knew there was a limit to their distance, and hers linked only to Northwatch and Mastiff, but Northwatch was linked to Mastiff, as great a distance as New Hope to Steadfast. She had no time to brood on it, for no sooner had she and Brodhelm got Prosper settled in and evening training running than there were Ostara celebrations, with another fine day and mild air to put all in a mood to enjoy themselves.

Kel made an offering of the last old crop, thanking the Green Lady for her blessing and all gods for their care. After the chimes she also took stock, praising everyone for how much had been achieved but reminding them fighting season began with spring, Maggur's attention was on them as much as the gods', and there might be a further influx from Tirrsmont. To the former Tirrsmonters this was welcome, but the adults knew as well as she that with every barracks full and two hundred more mouths to feed growth would be hard and there would be frictions. For the evening feast the cooks made an effort, drawing on fresh supplies and Yuki's skill with condiments, Quenuresh came with her kin, and the crowded messhall rang with chatter and children's laughter.

Seated opposite her Prosper was as wide-eyed as he'd been when he arrived. Kel thought he'd coped admirably with Quenuresh but as he tried to express his astonishment at almost everything about New Hope she wondered if it was just that he had no more capacity to react.

"I can't get over it, Lady Kel." Even as a page he'd been as respectful to her as to any senior, and though she'd invited him to use her bare name maintained the New Hope honorific. "I saw this valley as a boy, when we went to the City of the Gods, and there was nothing here. And though I'd heard talk of this fortress I was thinking of it as a refugee camp—but it's like a fief, a strong one. And the immortals, and the chimes—I've never heard them so loud."

Kel smiled at him reassuringly. "I know, Prosper—it's disconcerting, isn't it? But you'll get used to hearing them round here."

"So I gather. It's—forgive me, it's just so odd. You're the last person I'd have expected to become so … well, intimate with the gods. It's as if they're friends, but you were always the very opposite of god-touched. That was the Lioness with her mercurial temper—you were completely practical and always calm, down-to-earth, and everyone knew she was forbidden to see you to make sure it stayed that way."

"Everyone except me, Prosper. No-one bothered to tell me that until Neal spilled it in my second year." Even after all this time it still rankled—Alanna could have taught her a great deal she needed, and none of it would have had anything to do with gods or magic.

"Oh. I didn't know that, but I suppose one's always the last to know about something concerning oneself. It seems that way."

"Yes, it does. But don't envy me the gods' attention, Prosper. I'm beginning to realise they see us much as most people see animals, and being noticed by them is a bit like being a mule selected for a bad winter journey over high passes. We speak of them loving us as parents but it's more the way a drover loves his stock, and both involve beatings."

He gave her a strange look. "What do I know, Lady Kel? But I almost wonder if they've chosen you because you're so practical. A good drover respects his mules, too—else he gets kicked."

Kel laughed. "Well that's comforting. It's good to have you here, Prosper, and not just as a good fighter with the Gift, useful as that is."

"Thank you. It's good to be here—I've hoped to serve with you ever since you showed me what command is that day with the hillmen. If Faleron and Owen were here we'd all be together again."

The simple statement stayed in Kel's mind. At the time she'd been so absorbed in her reaction to having killed men and the need not to disparage Neal or Faleron as older pages who'd frozen that she'd never noticed the effects on Owen and Prosper. She'd come to terms with command what seemed long ago—no choice—but commanding friends was odd, and if she could handle those under her command becoming friends the other way round was more difficult. When Tobe asked her one night as he was brushing Jump what she was brooding about she tried to explain what she felt, and how peculiar it was, but he shrugged.

"The first time I ever saw you, Ma, you came down on old Alvik like a smith's hammer. He's older and bigger and no friend to anyone but that made no odds. People obey you, whoever they are. Even that Council and the King, sort of. Why should friends be different?"

She protested, to no avail—to him as much as Prosper her command was how things were, infinitely preferable to how they had been. But she spent time next day at the shrines, wondering what she meant to ask for and in the end simply praying that she be able to keep doing whatever it was she was doing right. There was no response but a sense of amusement from Lord Sakuyo and she left more cross than comforted.

She couldn't keep it up for long, though, with the trickster's day at the beginning of April. Left to her own devices Kel might not have introduced that particular festival to New Hope, but Yuki had told the children about famous pranks, and they were enthusiastic. So too were many adults who had heard Sakuyo and thought it wise to propitiate any god with such a laugh, so Kel had to go along, starting the day with the proper phrases and poems in his praise. Thereafter there

was a deal of silliness, mostly among children but with several good jokes among adults. Uinse and Jacut between them managed to convince Merric one of his eyes had changed colour, sending him worriedly to Neal, and Mikal revealed a deadpan streak by ordering his duty squads to wear a bright yellow ribbon all day in the god's honour before exploding with laughter at the looks on their faces. The prize, though, went by popular acclaim to Amiir'aan, who during the afternoon managed to craft in the surface of the main level a set of dragon tracks—large dragon tracks—that showed the beast landing and entering the messhall before going to the privies and taking off again. Only when the adults crowding excitedly round them realised he was as convulsed with laughter as anyone had ever seen a basilisk did they realise they'd been had, and Kel was asked by so many people to let the tracks stay that she agreed despite the puddles they'd create when it rained.

And it seemed Lord Sakuyo must approve, for two days later visitors arrived. Master Orman's man, a Port Caynn trader called Barin, was not a surprise, though his promptness was pleasing, but the company he was keeping was another matter. Kel had been astonished to see a squad of samurai warriors and another of the Own escorting a Yamani noble and horse-drawn cart towards the moatbridge, but Yuki took one look and left at a run, shouting over her shoulder it was the second kamunushi of Lord Sakuyo. Kel didn't have time to change herself but managed to get an honour guard in place to greet Lord Kiyomori. His first request was to give thanks for preservation on his journey, and while he didn't add 'among barbarians' Kel heard it plainly.

As they passed the infirmary, the samurai in tow and an increasing number of surprised people watching, Yuki emerged in fullest fig to offer a deep bow and bring proper Yamani protocol to proceedings. Kiyomori was no more than ordinarily polite, but after he'd seen the shrines, praying and cautiously making the same spell as Takemahou-sensei, with similar results, he became quite deferential, to Kel's mild annoyance and Yuki's considerable amusement. His mission was to deliver hundreds of small brooches, deep green jade set in gold, that marked Sakuyo's Blessed, and he solemnly presented them amid much bowing at a lengthy ceremony before supper that left everyone eager for food. Kel, by this stage in kimonos, kept her remarks short but impressed on people the honour they were being done and how seriously the Yamanis took it; more discreetly she had Brodhelm, Uinse, Fanche, and Zerhalm make it clear to their respective commands that pawning the brooches or otherwise parting with them would Be Unwise, adding a promise that if anyone reached such a point of need she'd make them a loan herself.

It was the contents of the cart and the accompanying message that really astonished, though—one hundred glaives, not as fine as her own but of serious quality, with a message from the Emperor in his own exquisite calligraphy begging their acceptance as a token of his deep respect for the citadel of Sakuyo's Blessed and his prayers for their safety in war. Keiichi had suggested this might happen but Kel hadn't believed him, and faced with the evidence still had trouble crediting it: the glaives were worth a fortune but it was the personal message that floored her, for in Yaman only the highest of high nobles would ever receive such a scroll and it would be a treasure of their house. Yuki was less surprised, reminding Kel Shinko had been present when Sakuyo laughed and would have informed her uncle in detail of what had happened; a samurai Kel managed to get to open up a little confided that news of the god's laughter had not only caused much amazement but been understood by all—even the fiercest doubters—as unequivocally blessing the controversial Tortallan alliance. That at least was a politics Kel could understand, but she was hard-pressed to know how to reply, and after several efforts became exasperated with herself, composing simple thanks for imperial notice and benevolence and feeling inspired to add a haiku:

The emperor's glaives

in the morning at New Hope—

petals of our Blessing.

Yuki gave delighted approval, twitting Kel and Neal over her emergence as a poet, and as Kel's calligraphy was at best indifferent wrote the scroll for her on the best parchment she could find.

Master Barin was a different kettle of fish. However impressed by New Hope and Kel herself he was politely noncommittal about trade and seemed dubious of their ability to produce anything of quality. His attitude changed as he saw how they'd used spidren webbing, and when Kel took him to meet Quenuresh; the helmets also intrigued him but the real shift came when he saw basilisks at work. The dinner services Kel had commissioned had been made—just—but not petrified, and Barin was able to watch St'aara do so, not with the great rumbling shriek of the rock spell but a sound like handfuls of pebbles rattling down an infinite slope that finessed thin, polished wood into translucent stone while preserving grains and whorls. When Kel explained who the services were for and why Lord Imrah was receiving one, blandly adding a request that he arrange transport and present them on New Hope's behalf, his delight in their beauty was joined by respect, compounded when she sat him down with Idrius and Kuriaju to discuss terms and the fact that the deal would—assuming a royal charter—be with the Craftsbeings' Guild.

With her promise of escort to Mindelan and a letter to get him priority service there he stayed several days longer than Lord Kiyomori, impressing Kel by his willingness to speak to Quenuresh again. He also spent time with Idrius, emerging with a rueful look after making concessions he hadn't intended, and by the time he left with Connac's squad, a train of packhorses, and the services packed carefully in crates alongside bundled webbing and a helmet he had become quite proprietary about the success of the whole thing. He also took her smoke-ruined finery, promising to see it safely delivered.

When Connac returned two weeks later he bore letters from Anders, Vorinna, Inness, and Tilaine that didn't know what to say about news they'd had of Kel but expressed affection, and escorted her new private clerk. Heliana was all her father had promised, and as army mails, resuming with spring, had brought a vast bundle of letters forwarded from the Palace and her parents' townhouse she welcomed the young woman with open arms. It meant an embarrassing discussion about requests and yet another proposal, but after a few days refining Heliana's grasp of what Kel was interested to see, and what she wanted answering with no more trouble than a signature, they got on well.

As spring warmed and ploughing gathered momentum Kel felt considerable satisfaction. The lookout post was finished, the tunnel making progress, glaive training under way, and her paperwork under better control than ever, the personal burden infinitely reduced and even official material crossing her desk better organised and more swiftly filed or despatched. Troubles enough would come, but New Hope was ever readier to deal with them.


	16. Chapter 14

Impairment

Chapter Fourteen — Impairment

April–May

In mid -April Kel was notified by Duke Turomot that Sir Arnolf, Lord of Tirrsmont, had been found to have committed perjury, oathbreach, and theft from the Crown, amounting to capital treason; that Sir Voelden was denied right of succession on grounds of perjury and complicity in treasonable theft; and that, absent any clear claim, Fief Tirrsmont was dissolved. A letter from her parents described evidence that had piled up, an avalanche of complaints from people who'd left Tirrsmont before the war and merchants with unpaid bills and records of purchases in silver bars revealing the scale of fraud perpetrated on the Crown. She shouldn't worry, they concluded, about her part in events, even the stickiest conservatives and those most unhappy about striking a fief from the Book of Silver being unwilling to defend Sir Arnolf. Torhelm, however, refused written communication, his son and steward were at large, and his fief continued in royal administration with neighbouring lords casting covetous eyes.

Kel read the notice at dinner and did nothing to check celebrations by those who'd suffered most from their sometime lord's selfish incompetence; but if she had no sympathy for Arnolf or Voelden she was deeply uneasy all the same. Her parents hadn't mentioned Lords Burchard or Carolan, and while she had to accept their judgement that there'd be no widespread trouble she knew Genlith and friends would blame her for 'starting' the problem, and in Runnerspring's case at least seek to do her whatever harm he could compass. Nor was her worry helped by a third document, a grand scroll from the King, appointing Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small, Commander of New Hope, to his Council. This she also had to read out, and whether the cheers or the astonishment on the faces of her friends was the more disconcerting she couldn't have said.

She tried to slip away after the meal but Neal and Yuki trailed her to her rooms and she had little choice but to let them in and serve Yamani tea. As she settled, having made sure Yuki was comfortable, Neal considered her with bafflement.

"Kel, why aren't you happier? I know you wouldn't triumph in anyone's fall except Maggur's but you must be pleased to be rid of that appalling man and his son. And a second Mindelan seat on the Council—gods! The haMinches only have two because Lord Padraig's Training Master. You must be the youngest member by decades."

"Lady Maura of Dunlath's only two years older than me." "Does she have a seat?"

"She was given it when she came of age because of the treaty at Dunlath. That's what mine's about too—Quenuresh more than anything."

"And killing Stenmun and Blayce and rescuing everyone and creating New Hope and what you did with the Chamber and returning from the dead and smiting Torhelm and from what my father says though you somehow omitted to mention it taking a glaive to the political logjam that's held everything up for two decades pretty much the same way you took one to Blayce and Stenmun."

"Did he breathe during that, Yuki?"

"I don't think so. He often forgets. But I am puzzled also, Kel. You have done marvellously well. It is right to be proud, and no-one would think ill of you for it."

Kel let blandness slip. "Oh wouldn't they? The children and I spent our whole time in Corus when we weren't in a spelled room wearing jerkins and bracelets to detect poison, both of which have proven necessary or I'd be properly dead. I can't think of anything that would enrage people like Runnerspring more than this, and I wish the King had waited." She waved a hand impatiently. "But it's not even that, really, though I resent the threat to the children more than I can say."

"But who has threatened them, Kel?" Yuki was honestly puzzled.

"Remember what happened to Lalasa, Yuki. Joren thought it beautifully logical to hurt someone else in order to hurt me, and I've no doubt Freja would have killed Tobe or Irnai if she'd had the chance."

"She has a point, Yuki. Joren was no better than Maggur. But if it's not that, Kel, what is

it?"

"Nothing. Everything."

"Which?"

"Both. I don't mind killing a nightmare and his dog, though I'm sick of killing anyone, but I have very mixed feelings about killing a fief, which is what a lot of people will say and more will think, as they say I killed Joren and struck down Torhelm—even you, just now. And however necessary executing Tirrsmont might be, dissolving a fief is dangerous. There'll be a deal of disquiet." She took a breath. "And it's not really that either. At bottom, Neal, it's because it makes me all too aware I'm fighting on two fronts. Do you remember, as a page, being on the same team as Quinden in a fight? Having to double-think everything because he couldn't be trusted? Well, scale it up. Way, way up, and climbing all the time. And then there's this wretched timeway nonsense no mortal can understand—I have no idea how something like this affects it, and nor does the King, so unless a god or a dragon chooses to say something I have to ignore it and do whatever seems right, or nothing, though it might prove ruinous. It makes my head hurt. And my heart."

There was a long silence, broken by Yuki.

"Keladry-chan, I could not begin to do what you do, and I can see it is hard, but I have been here six months now and I do know why people trust and follow you. Yes, you are a natural leader—you draw the best from people for their own safety, and they know it—and you work astonishingly hard, but it is more. They think you do the right thing even when there is none, and you are surprised. Most of all with the rescue—a madness, going alone into Scanra, that drew others after and changed everything—but also in creating New Hope, agreeing with Quenuresh and all the immortals, and in what happened in Corus. Some think it is the gods acting through you, some that they only bless what you do, but all trust your instincts, not just your decisions. And clearly the King and the Emperor do also. You do so yourself—you just don't like it."

Neal looked at his wife admiringly and back at Kel. "Seconded. When those hillmen jumped us, Kel, you had no more warning than any of us but you knew what we had to do. You still do."

"That was just tactics, Neal—there wasn't any cover except the cliff. This is strategy in

fog."

"Even so, Keladry-chan. In fog we still must go one way or another, and we trust your choice."

Kel looked at her friend, bafflement warring with pride and pain. "I know, Yuki-chan, but it scares me and things like this make me feel I'm just blundering along. Tirrsmont came huffing and puffing and my instincts said not to let him get away with anything, so I refused him entry— and Tortall is shaken in ways I never even imagined."

"But that is the point, Keladry-chan. You did as you thought right when most would bow to a blustering noble, and it was right—unforeseen events spiralled from it that are good. A justice none expected. Crimes that were not known exposed and punished. For one who is unhappy, a hundred are pleased. As is the King, who rewards you and makes clear his trust. You need only go on doing what seems right. None can do more and you must not do less."

"Seconded again, Kel. Double-guessing yourself never helps. Gods know I don't envy you command—being in charge of patients is bad enough—but I'm glad it's you." Neal was uncharacteristically grave. "I still think of the ten-year-old page who taught us all what's still the best lesson on the heart of chivalry I've ever learned, and for everything that's happened since I don't think that's changed at all."

She threw up her hands. "Fine. I'll lead us all off a cliff together. Thank you both—I'm not ungrateful, I just feel like I'm up Balor's Needle again. Let's hope it's the tree from my Ordeal instead."

"What tree? Are you allowed to talk about your Ordeal?"

"We all are, Neal. It's not a rule, just custom based on shame at our own fears. The elemental said it didn't care what anyone said about what it did, and the tree it made me climb was one I had to let go of." She explained the opposition in her mind between grimly hanging on to Lalasa and Jump as she brought them down the Needle and grimly letting go of the violently swaying tree high above the elemental's plain.

"My Ordeal wasn't like that—just enduring what it threw at me."

"Oh it did that as well, as it did every time I touched the door. I expect it wanted to try something new."

"It is interesting, though. Neal gets more frustrated than you—sometimes he needs to hang on. And it seems right you should sometimes have to let go. Let this go now, Keladry-chan."

"Easier said than done, Yuki, but I'll try."

She wasn't sleeping badly, though her dreams were often anxious and visited by men she'd killed, but nagging worry wouldn't leave her. She wasn't sure if it was Tortallan treachery or Scanran assault she feared most, or the politics that clutched her ever tighter, but either way the answer was work. There wasn't a great deal more she could do, especially with her paperwork already in order, but when demands of the fields left tunnellers short-handed she helped haul stone, marvelling at the way Var'istaan cut it. Steadily the tunnel deepened, and Brodhelm's surveying suggested they had perhaps six hundred feet to go, so they might hope to finish sometime next winter. She also threw herself into glaive classes, insisting on proper pattern dances and seeing the women's frustrations ebb as they began to realise the benefits. At month's end she did her inventory, with satisfaction at the figures for food, and that afternoon found herself summoned to the lookout. One glance through her spyglass at the sorry column plodding up

valley was enough.

"It's the Tirrsmonters. We'd best get moving."

The barracks had been prepared but cooks groaned as they started peeling and chopping again and the reality was worse than anyone expected. The shambling, limping people escorted by tight-faced Ownsmen were thin and afraid, the vulnerable among them too often ill. There was resentment in faces, directed at everything but especially Kel, that intensified when they had to pass the Honesty Gate and make their statements, and some hysteria from both children and adults when they saw Amiir'aan and some ogres. From the wails of frightened children Kel began to grasp what they believed might happen—what they must have been told happened at New Hope —and had to lock her Yamani mask on while she reassured them.

Five squads of the Own's First Company were commanded by Ettenor of Aili, a nephew of Harailt who'd succeeded Glaisdan, and to Kel's surprise he assumed her seniority, reporting with a crisp salute.

"The King sent us to Tirrsmont to proclaim the fief dissolved, my Lady. Sir Voelden accompanied us with that so-called captain, but when we arrived most of the hired troops had vanished, days back according to the steward. It took them a while to realise we really weren't going to stay and if they wanted defending they'd have to come here, and the steward and his cronies were adamant they'd have nothing to do with you until we actually pulled out yesterday morning. He's that balding fellow—Lasner's his name. Sir Voelden stayed—holed up in his apartments—and a couple of men with him. Otherwise Tirrsmont is now deserted."

"Did you strip it? You seem to have a lot of carts and horses."

"We've seized any valuables we could find, including the former lord's horses—His Grace of Wellam's judgement included a huge fine for fraud—and any weapons we saw. Those are yours if you want them, my Lady, though it's a sorry trove—rusty mail and blunt swords."

"We can always melt them down. What about livestock?"

He frowned. "We left it, my Lady. No orders to do otherwise and it would have meant at least one more night on the road."

"And horses you didn't take?"

"Turned 'em loose in the pastures, my Lady."

"The animals must be retrieved." She gave crisp orders and sent word to Adner to detail herdsman for an immediate trip to Tirrsmont. When she turned back Ettenor was frowning.

"I see I erred, my Lady. Is livestock that short, then?"

"It's in demand, Captain, but there are other considerations. It would feed or mount Scanrans as well, and you can be sure they'll investigate Tirrsmont soon enough. There's also the Wildmage to think of—she's as hard-hearted about farm animals as anyone but doesn't like needless suffering, and we rather depend on her up here. For some of these people stock represented a large part of their wealth, and we're going to need them in as good heart as possible." She hesitated. "Your command and orders are your own, Captain, but I will say that if you were worried about being on the road at night you could have contacted me—I'd have sent squads and herders to assist, and as a large party you'd be unlucky to be attacked this early in the year."

He was chastened. "It's the first time I've come north since I was given the First, my Lady,

and I hadn't realised how substantial a command this is. Asking you for assistance never occurred to me."

"There's Giantkiller, too. But no matter—we'll retrieve the animals and check for anything we can use. Meantime, Sir Merric will see your men sorted for the night, and give them a run-down of standing orders. I expect you'll be able to persuade him to give you a tour."

She could feel temper bubbling, as much with the King for giving inadequate orders as anything, and wanted to let the arrivals know their livestock would follow. Some responded to the announcement but she could still sense bitterness, and fear that puzzled her; she put it down to being displaced and not understanding the strength of New Hope until her straightforward statement of standing orders about rosters and training was greeted with jeers from a group of young men standing near Lasner. A ringleader stepped forward.

"An' what if we don't wanna do all that, eh? You gonna kill us?"

"Kill you? Of course not. Why ever would you think such a thing? Capital punishment is reserved for capital charges, here as everywhere in Tortall, and if you've been told otherwise you were misled. But neither my standing orders nor work rosters and training sessions are choices, I'm afraid, for you or anyone. Even children train here—and the rules are for your safety, as you'd realise if you bothered to think. Refusing's not an option you have any more."

"Or what?"

She frowned. "Or scouring armour, latrine duty, a day in the stocks, confinement on bread and water, and in the end, if you really demand to freeload on everyone else, you'll find yourself outside the gates."

"Kick us out and keep the monsters? You can't do that."

"Yes I can, and there are no monsters here. This is a military camp, and though you're subject to the laws of the realm, not the army code, unless we're under attack, you are under discipline. Which as I'm the commander means my orders. But why are we having this conversation? You've been here less than two hours and you're refusing to participate in basic routines? What is your problem?"

Lasner came up beside the youth. "You slander our Lord to death and have us thrown out of our lawful fief and you dare ask us what our problem is? You may call yourself a commander but you're—"

Kel wasn't doing this again. "Watch your mouth, Master Lasner. Your thoughts are your own but you'll observe courtesy here. Now, you accuse me of slandering Sir Arnolf, who is no longer your lord nor anyone's—is that what Sir Voelden told you? And you believed him?"

"He does not lie."

"Really? Will you take a gods' oath you've never known Sir Voelden utter untruth? No? Well, I will tell you what I know and back it with a gods' oath that I speak truth."

She did, scrupulously distinguishing what she had witnessed from report and naming sources, from the gates of New Hope to the Council chamber and official notification. When she made the circle and chimes sounded the steward's face paled, as did others'.

"So now you know. You may have loved your lord, or feared him. It doesn't matter. He perjured himself to court and Council, even after the King warned him it wouldn't be tolerated. He defrauded the realm and he failed you—all of you, or you wouldn't be here and your neighbours

and friends wouldn't have been here most of a year already. I know it's hard and you're all tired and upset but ask them before you decide. You'll find them two and three barracks up from you— see how they're faring before you reckon up the lies you've been told."

She left them abashed with some looking thoughtful, and hoped she'd nipped the problem in the bud. At dinner, now taken in shifts, Petrin sought her out and told her that from what he could make out they'd been told all manner of nonsense.

"There was slanders of you, Lady Kel, like that fool Tirrsmont said when he was here, but also nightmare stuff—that our immortals ate people and did unspeakable things, gods know what. Anyone with any sense knew it had to be rubbish, but it got hammered in, I'm afraid, and Steward Lasner and his gang said it all over again twice as loud if anyone disagreed. They're realising, but it'll take time."

"I thought it must be something like that. Thank you, Petrin. And Lasner's no steward now, though I'll grant him 'master' in courtesy. I'd be glad if you and other former Tirrsmonters who've been here a while can do all you can to set them straight. The young man who challenged me was … a sort I've known make real trouble for others, and he called our immortals monsters."

"Yes, there's a lot of fear about that. I can't blame them, exactly, Lady Kel—Kuriaju's as nice a being as you could meet, and after working with him these months I'm proud to call him friend. But the first time I saw a ten-foot ogre looking down at me my stomach churned, I don't mind admitting. I've still to take a breath if I've to speak to Quenuresh, for all I know she's no threat while I respect her and her kin."

"I know, Petrin. Try it with half-a-dozen stormwings or an eighty-five-foot dragon sometime."

He swallowed. "I'd as soon not, Lady Kel, if it's all the same to you."

"Alright." Her smile faded. "But while I'll give them time to adjust, I'll not stand hostility to our immortals. Every one of them has worked to build New Hope, and anyone moving in has to accept that. I cannot jeopardise the treaties, and won't. I did tell them, but young men aren't good at listening, so please do what you can to make sure they know it."

"I have and I will, Lady Kel, but I think you're right to fear trouble of that kind. Difference brings out the worst in folk."

He and all the old-hand former Tirrsmonters did their best, and Kel made sure they were free to act as mentors as integration began. She circulated, with Jump and Nari, trying to make herself approachable with more success among children than adults. Neal, Morri, and Temon, Company Fourteen's healer, made visible inroads into suspicion and mistrust by working to help ill children and elders, and beginning a programme of examination and treatment that as with the convict soldiers had Neal fuming. Tirrsmont's care of those loyal to him had not included much in the way of mage services, and Neal swore there were adults who'd barely seen a healer in their lives yet suffered from one or another minor condition that could easily have been treated but, untreated, had become anything from uncomfortable to life-threatening.

"Healers cost money, Neal, and Tirrsmont's luxury came first."

"Gods! He should be … well, he has been, I suppose. Or will be. But he should be all over again."

"Oddly, I know what you mean."

"I wish I could feed him to Cloestra, Kel. She needs the meal and he deserves to be it." Surprised at the real rancour in his voice Kel quirked an eyebrow. "There're people who were scared of me, Kel—of any healer. Gods know what lies they'd been fed but anyone who does such a thing deserves hanging. It's tyrannous, malicious, and plain dim."

Kel let him vent, not disagreeing but feeling beyond new fury at revelations of what lords like Tirrsmont did, and wondering what healer services for commoners were like at Stone Mountain, Genlith, or Runnerspring. It wasn't only attracting and paying for healers that mattered but a fief's attitude to hedgewitches among its population, and the cult of the Gentle Mother had been against women training in any form of the Gift—oddly to Kel's mind, as it meant they shouldn't become midwives, but then that whole cult was odd.

The arrival of the livestock and restoration to its owners, so people got credit for what went to the cooks and the labour of horses, helped, but Kel knew there were two problems. One was general fear induced by falsehoods, and that was decreasing as people saw mortals and immortals talking, working and eating together. The other was malice towards her, and by extension New Hope, harboured by the former steward and younger men associated with him. That had less to do with lies, though they had played a part in creating it, than with loss of status, habituation to having authority, and need for someone to blame—and on the third evening it blew wide open.

Kel was leading glaive practice when a sound she'd never heard brought her whipping round to see Amiir'aan stagger backwards from a barrack doorway, paws to head. Even before the stone clattered to the ground she was snapping orders.

"You, get Sir Neal, you, Zerhalm, you, St'aara and Var'istaan. Run. The rest of you, get everyone out of that barracks now, at glaive point if necessary, in a group out here." She was half-way to Amiir'aan, voice rising to battle mode. "Move, people."

Her arms went round the basilisk as they would round any injured youngling, lifting him as the armed women headed for the doorway, faces tight with anger. Nari landed on her shoulder, peeping anxiously.

"Amiir'aan, are you alright? Let me see. Gently, now. You're safe. Let me look."

He took his paws away and she could see oozing silver blood and a dark swelling spreading from the wound across his pebbled skin. She reached for a clean handkerchief, gently staunching blood.

"It hurts, Lady Kel, but I think I am alright. I almost caught the stone but I was taken by surprise."

She saw one paw was bruised too, though not bleeding. Rage filled her as people began to be herded out of the barracks. "Of course you were, sweeting. Anyone would be. Did you see who threw the stone?"

"A boy, I think, but I did not see clearly. I am sorry."

"Don't you be sorry for anything, Amiir'aan. We'll find out who it was and what happened."

Neal arrived at a run and took over cleaning the wound as she held Amiir'aan, who hissed pain but made no complaint. St'aara arrived, with Zerhalm and Var'istaan not far behind, and Kel explained what she'd seen. St'aara's whispering voice held anger and sadness.

"May I see, Sir Nealan? Ah, that is not too bad. He will be alright."

"My Gift's no use to a basilisk, St'aara, but I can stitch the wound. Zerhalm, can you do anything?"

"I do not know. May I try, St'aara?"

Permission granted, Zerhalm rested hands on Amiir'aan's head and closed his eyes. "I cannot knit flesh, as for one of the People, but I can sense no deeper injury and some magic has been absorbed."

"The swelling's down, Zerhalm." Neal was watching closely. "And the bleeding's stopped. I think a bandage might be enough, but I don't know anything about basilisk healing."

"We are strong, Sir Nealan, and our bones do not break easily. It would heal faster in the Divine Realms but it will be only a few days even here. I thank you all for your care of my son."

"It's the least we could do, St'aara, and we're going to find out who threw that stone and why. Amiir'aan, sweeting, what did you need here?"

"I wanted to make friends and show them we are not dangerous, as they seem to think."

"Oh sweeting, I know. They've been told all sorts of silly lies. Here, you go to your ma. Nari, stay with him?" St'aara stooped to steady him, Nari fluttering to his shoulder, and Kel stood, finding Brodhelm, Merric, Mikal, and Uinse had been drawn by her shout; Fanche and Saefas stood a few feet away. "And the lies are no excuse for this. Someone's going to pay. With me, all of you."

She strode to the group forcibly evacuated from the barracks, unsurprised to see Lasner as well as the young troublemaker and his friends among them. The armed women and the growing crowd ringing them fell silent, openly hostile.

"Who threw that stone?" Feet shuffled but no-one came forward. "Alright, we'll do it the hard way. Each of you will stand under the Honesty Gate and whoever cannot deny it will be known. Get them moving."

"It was Chervey." A woman stepped forward, pushing at her neighbour's hand on her arm. "Why should we all suffer for his stupidity, Ana? It was Chervey." She pointed to a gangly boy of twelve or thirteen, fright etched on his face.

"You, Chervey, come here. Come here." Though her mind was clear Kel was as angry as she had ever been and her voice cracked command; it would have taken a stronger will than Chervey's to disobey and he took a halting step. Impatient, she closed the distance in two long strides. "There's no point lying. Did you throw that stone at Amiir'aan? Did you?"

Mutely he nodded, terror on his face. She kept her voice level.

"Why?"

"It's a monster."

"Amiir'aan is not a monster. He's a basilisk and a child. Look at him with his mother— he's young, and he was doing you no harm. Why did you throw a stone at him now?"

He hung his head but she saw his eyes dart sideways, and the smirk on the young troublemaker's face.

I am a lake a lake a lake. "Chervey, look at me." She turned his head with strong fingers. "Did someone tell you to throw it? Or encourage you? Do I have to take you to the Honesty Gate?"

The force of her gaze squeezed the answer out of him. "Gothas."

She swung to the young man. "You're Gothas?" He said nothing and she looked at Lasner. "Is he?"

"Yes, that's Gothas." He swallowed. "My lady."

"And where are Chervey's parents?"

"Dead, my Lady. Killed last year."

"Who looks after him?'

"No-one, really, my Lady. He's been scrounging where he can."

"Gods, what is wrong with you people? Did you encourage Gothas in this, Lasner? I will know if you lie."

He drew himself up. "I did not. I dislike what has happened and make no secret of it, but I did not tell Gothas to attack anyone."

She believed him and gazed at the smirking youth. "So, Gothas, you decided on your own to tell a boy to stone a child. Why?"

"I didn't."

"Swear that by gods' oath and I'll believe you."

He sneered. "I'm not answering you. You've no power over me."

"Wrong, Gothas. If you dare not deny it by gods' oath I'll hold you guilty of instigating this attack. Last chance."

"You do what you like, monster's bitch. Those things have no place among men."

"Wrong again, Gothas, formerly of Tirrsmont." Her anger was ice and her voice deadly calm. Gothas tried to step back but people behind closed ranks. "For your actions you will spend a week in the secure cell on bread and water. At the end of that week you will apologise on your knees to Amiir'aan and St'aara and spend three months on latrine duty. Or remain confined until peace comes, as a danger to this community and to far more than you understand. Brodhelm, Uinse, take him to the cell."

Those behind pushed Gothas forward, and he was frog-marched off, shouts fading as he disappeared from view. The silence was painful.

"Now, we need some lessons here. Chervey, listen very carefully. How old are you?" His face crumpled. "Fifteen."

He looked younger and Kel had an appalling vision of a life as stunted as his growth. "Do you understand what you risked, because a bully told you to do something vile? Attacking any immortal that isn't attacking you is as stupid as it gets. Let me show you."

She took from her pocket one of the apples she kept for Peachblossom and held it for him to see, then above her head.

"An ordinary apple, see?" She took a bite and swallowed, then held out her hand with the apple balanced on it. "Var'istaan, would you be kind enough to petrify it, please?"

"It would be safer if I held it, Protector."

"I trust you, Var'istaan—I've seen your craftwork."

His look was unfathomable. "Very well." He stooped, angling his snout until it was precisely aligned with the apple from below. The thin shrieking amid clattering pebbles of the rock spell hurt her ears but she didn't flinch as grey flooded away the apple's colour and its weight rose abruptly; she felt the coolness of stone.

"Thank you, Var'istaan. Feel this, Chervey." She tossed it and he caught it by reflex, gaping. "Solid stone, my bite-mark preserved. Let others see and feel—pass it round. If you attack a basilisk, Chervey, it's going to defend itself. Only Amiir'aan's self-control means you're not stone right now. And while Var'istaan's shown how precise a basilisk can be, any being defending itself against sudden attack isn't going to be worrying about precision. If Amiir'aan had rock -spelled you, as he had every right once you attacked him, he could have caught other people too. You didn't just risk yourself, Chervey. You risked everyone by you."

She spoke to him directly but pitched her voice to carry.

"Second thing. If you're fifteen, you're responsible for what you do. You could have killed Amiir'aan, and if you had you'd hang. Gothas too. Have you seen anyone hanged?"

"Bandits." His voice was a whisper. "Scanrans the Lord captured."

"Then you know what you risked. And for what? Because an idiot told you to hurt a child and you had no wit or courage to refuse. So now we have a problem." She looked round. "St'aara, what justice do you require of Chervey?"

Her look was as unfathomable as Var'istaan's. "I am content to leave it to you, Protector. You care for us all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Thank you. Amiir'aan, is there justice you require?"

"I wish to understand why he attacked me. I wanted only to say hello to people and to see if there was anything I could do to help them."

"Alright. Then here it is, Chervey. You're going to do three things. First, apologise to Amiir'aan, right now, so everyone can hear. Clear? Good. Second, go with him and St'aara and Sir Neal to the infirmary, and see what you did, explain to him why you did it, and think about the fact the only reason you're not dead right now is because he didn't attack you, even when you attacked him. Anything he asks, you answer. Clear?" He nodded, beginning to look shamefaced rather than terrified. It was a start. "Third, if Var'istaan, Kuriaju, and Petrin are willing, for the rest of the week you're going to work with them on the tunnel. You ask them questions, and they ask you questions back. Var'istaan?"

"I am willing, Protector, and I am sure others will be. This is a good solving, and I thank

you for your wisdom."

She marvelled at the basilisks' calm. If the positions were reversed she doubted many mortals could do as well. "No thanks are needed, Var'istaan, and many apologies due. We start with Chervey's."

It wasn't much of an apology but the boy stammered something and Amiir'aan's natural grace and friendliness spared him further blushes.

"I accept, Chervey, but I want to understand why you felt I threatened you. Come with us, as the Protector commands, and tell me."

"Neal, escort him? Thank you."

Neal gripped Chervey's shoulder and steered him with St'aara and Amiir'aan towards the infirmary, Zerhalm behind them. Kel turned back to the group from the barracks.

"And you, all of you, the lesson's not just for Chervey or Gothas. You were all there. Some of you must have known what was planned—an attack on a child . And did nothing." Her gaze found Gothas's friends. "I'm betting every one of you fools knew. Will you deny it?" Silence and foot shuffling. "You're all on latrine duty for three days. Merric, take them when I'm done. And Master Lasner, report to me tomorrow after breakfast. My office. We have things to discuss." Merric nodded promptly, Lasner reluctantly, and Kel drew breath. "Right now you stand, every one of you, on mud Amiir'aan petrified. You sleep in barracks with a stone roof to protect against fire-arrows. Guess who petrified that so you sleep safely. And your reply is a stone thrown at a child who has already done more for us than all of you put together could manage in a year. I don't care what lies your former lord or his son told you, that is close to unforgivable and if there's any repetition, anything, from any of you, you'll find out exactly why they call me Protector of the Small. I didn't kill Stenmun Kinslayer and Blayce the Necromancer so Tortallans could take up murdering children where they left off. Digest your shame and mend your ways."

Merric and half-a-dozen soldiers took Gothas's friends to join the squad on latrine duty, and the rest returned to their barracks, eyes cast down. Kel looked around.

"Alright, people, show's over. And so's practice time—what a waste!"

The line got the laugh she'd angled for, and the crowd began to disperse, many bowing or curtseying. Var'istaan and Kuriaju, whom she hadn't seen arrive, also bowed, and she gazed at their retreating backs with amazement. Yuki laid a hand on her arm.

"Come, Keladry-chan, and have some tea before we go to dinner."

Kel's meeting with Lasner was tense but in the end productive, though she could only hope she hadn't struck a bad bargain by agreeing that if Lasner applied himself to help settle his people she would implicitly recognise his standing among them. When she'd explained about the Council he wanted a seat but she was adamant.

"No chance, Master Lasner. Mortal civilians are represented by Fanche Miller and Saefas Ploughman, and Zerhalm, who all earned their authority at Rathhausak. Quenuresh, Var'istaan, Kuriaju, and Barzha Razorwing represent their kinds. My captains and knights have seats because

they control defence, patrolling, and healing. You don't walk on because you held steward's rank in a dissolved fief. When peace comes, or if numbers grow, there might be a case for another civilian seat, and if so you can compete for it. It'll depend on how well you do, and how useful to survival and victory you've become."

This he accepted with a calculating look, leaving her to conclude he was one of those who blew with the wind, whatever it was, and if she were it he'd probably do his best for her. He could be trusted—relied on, at least—to be self-interested, and much as she despised trimming it was better than false submission or outright hostility. After their discussion she called in Brodhelm, Uinse, Mikal, Neal, Fanche and Saefas, and Adner, and they spent the morning going through the former Tirrsmonters' situation in detail. There were gaping weaknesses—not least the situation of orphans like Chervey, for whom no care had been arranged, and untreated endemic illness—but also strengths New Hope needed to exploit. She explained her standing orders and the need, pure and simple, for everyone to be trained with bow, sling, and whatever they could master. Her priorities bewildered Lasner, and the egalitarian aspects disturbed his sense of order, but once he grasped the overriding need of defence he began to see the method in what he had thought madness, and a certain enthusiasm for the efficiency of her arrangements kindled in his eyes.

After the door closed behind him Neal blew out a breath. "I need to wash. He couldn't care less for anyone except himself."

"True, but we want him pissing out, not in. Be scrupulous about calling him Master Lasner, please—it's the sort of thing that matters to him—but hold him to the mark. Dissolving Tirrsmont and sending these people here like this has given us a serious problem, and you can be sure I'll let that be known." She was already contemplating how to word her first letter to the King as one of his Councillors. "Meantime we have to deal with it. Uinse, please get Jacut and some others—the kind people listen to—to talk to Gothas when they feed him. Make it clear we're not messing—if he doesn't do what he has to, in good heart, he will stay confined. I think Chervey will be alright with proper care and experience of working with Var'istaan and Kuriaju. For the rest, we'll have to see. How are people taking what happened? Brodhelm?"

"The bows and curtseys said it, Lady Kel. Strong disapproval of Gothas and his friends, very strong approval of your judgements."

"Surprise, too." Uinse spread hands at her look of enquiry. "I don't think anyone's seen you angry like that before, Lady Kel—you were smoking and they thought heads would roll. But they liked what you did and agree Chervey's a tool and Gothas is poison."

"Same among civilians." Fanche grinned at Kel. "If it wasn't for Amiir'aan's injury it would have been fun to watch. Smoking's right—like a log on the fire just before it ignites. Tobe tells me you looked like that when you called the gods down on Torhelm."

Kel blinked. "I did?"

"So he says, and Irnai agrees. Is there a secret to it, Lady Kel? How to be that angry and still channel it how you want instead of exploding all over? It works a treat."

"Grow up in Yaman, face lifelong hostility for being who you are, show up almost everyone as fools, and get sent back by the Black God." Neal voice was dry. "That ought to do it." Fanche grinned as Kel thought of lakes. "But I don't think there were any gods about last night. Were there, Kel?"

"What? Oh, gods. No, I don't think so. I did feel … what? icy, I suppose, and I remember being like that with Torhelm, but nothing was edged in silver. No battlecry or hounds or soughing wind either, so no, no gods." She woke to the stares everyone was giving her. "What?"

"Edged in silver, Kel?"

"Well, yes, sort of. But that was when three gods were about to act and time slowed down, like it does sometimes on a battlefield."

"Strangely, that does make sense." She glared, to no avail whatever. "So that was just you last night. In which case I can add one more time, maybe—I didn't see it but I heard the Stump describing what you looked like after Joren's trial when you slammed the King about the law on noble interference with servants, and it sounded similar. Smoking ice and dead level voice going right through people. He said the only thing he'd seen like it was Lord Raoul in a killing rage, but by that stage he'd have gone physical and you were wholly focused through your voice."

"Gah!"

Kel left them crossly to a lively discussion of rages they had known and went to help Chervey haul stone. She came in on a discussion of basilisks' liking for travel and diplomacy, as well as stonework, and ogres' preferences for mining, farming, or fighting, and let it run before telling Chervey about arrangements for his schooling and assignment to carers who'd be responsible for making sure he was clothed, fed, and trained. His astonishment was revealing, and as she talked about what training sessions and work rosters appealed she knew he wasn't a bad lad, just a lonely one without much character who'd wanted company and approval. If it were provided officially he'd be loyal enough.

The ripples of what had happened spread. Whether it was shame, the efforts of Lasner, or the absence of Gothas Kel wasn't sure but the Tirrsmonters did seem to undergo a change of heart and try to fit in. Certainly they obeyed standing orders and were punctual in showing up for work and training, though their incompetence with all weapons—having been forbidden them at Tirrsmont—made it slow going, and Kel knew they'd be a burden, not an asset, for months. At the same time Amiir'aan and the young ogres acquired a wariness around newcomers Kel hated to see, but adult immortals were pleased with events in a strange way, as St'aara explained when Kel asked her why she wasn't more upset.

"We knew that day would come, Protector. The confidence you have given mortals in dealing with us astonishes—we are used to attitudes like Chervey's and Gothas's, and knew sooner or later they would manifest. The question was how you would respond and that pleases us."

Kel stared at her. "But what else could I have done? To attack Amiir'aan when he was doing nothing amiss …"

"Just so, Protector—you did not see your own kind and another. You saw a victim and found the guilty one." Her whispery voice took on an odd tone. "Quenuresh wins our bets—she said you would be without prejudice, even in anger. We were doubtful. We should not have been."

"Oh." Kel didn't know what to say. "Well, thank you, but I couldn't condone such malevolence. And I hate to see Amiir'aan so wary now."

"It will do him no harm to learn caution. And he has become quite friendly with Chervey, trying to explain things. He was surprised by what Chervey believed but I reminded him how young that mortal is."

It was true that boy and basilisk were often now seen together, Amiir'aan petrifying small things for a fascinated Chervey, and endlessly explaining about what kinds of immortal were dangerous in what ways—lessons that drew in other children among the newcomers. That helped

children integrate and sight of the pair had its own effects on adults. Gothas's friends were another matter, though, remaining hostile to all in a tight-knit group; nor had Gothas taken anything to heart except pride and loathing, and his adamant refusal to apologise to any monster meant Kel had no choice but to keep him confined. She fretted, and two days after what should have been his week on bread and water put in a spellmirror call to Vanget and Wyldon. Vanget grunted.

"There was bound to be someone stupid, Kel, and it sounds as if you handled it well. The treaties are far more important than a hothead."

Wyldon agreed. "It's not as if this Gothas has a case. He's suffered no injustice at anyone's hands but Tirrsmont's—Sir Arnolf's, I mean—and instigated an unprovoked attack. Young Amiir'aan's alright?"

"He seems to be though he was shaken, of course. So I just keep Gothas confined on bread and water?"

"Well, you're not equipped to hold prisoners long term, are you?" Vanget was thoughtful. "Tell you what, pick out a couple of squads that need exercise and send him and his friends to Northwatch. I'll enlist 'em. Army service'll beat that nonsense out and they'll find badmouthing you or New Hope here will land them in a world of hurt."

"It will?"

"Oh yes. Most of my lads passed through Tirrsmont at least once and they hate Arnolf with a passion, if only for the food he served 'em while he stuffed himself. When I read 'em Turomot's proclamation they cheered—insubordinate lot." His tone was warm, affection plain. "And you're still not allowing sufficiently for being their heroine, Kel. Your appointment to the Council's very popular, so you send young Gothas and his friends along and we'll teach 'em the error of their ways."

Kel was uncertain about the justice of this but accepted gratefully; having a treacherous equivalent of Quinden at New Hope was a headache she didn't need. She turned to another thing on her mind.

"I'm sorry to say it, but Ettenor of Aili didn't do a very good job at Tirrsmont—he left livestock and delivered people more distressed than necessary. But to be fair, he doesn't have much experience and his orders from, I assume, the King seem to have been … inadequate."

"They probably were." Wyldon rubbed his forehead. "I did talk to His Majesty about Tirrsmont before I left but he was preoccupied with a Tyran ambassador wanting to negotiate for Lianne's hand."

"Well, he needs to know he caused a problem. There's an issue regarding further spidrens who might turn up, as well, so I've written him a letter. I wondered if you'd tell me if it's alright."

She read them her draft and there was a brief silence before Vanget exploded with laughter, slapping his knee as Alanna had done outside the temples.

"Oh that's priceless. Polite as you like and a comprehensive dressing-down just the same. You send it right along."

Wyldon's mouth had also twitched once or twice, but he was more cautious. "He was at fault, Keladry, but does have many concerns. Still, none should be more pressing than war, and what you say is entirely correct. I would tone down that last paragraph—uninformed for ignorant, perhaps, and avoidable for needless. I'm not sure I like the amnesty for any spidrens that turn up,

but I see the logic and the more we can get under treaty the better. You handle the business of Ettenor's inexperience very well, and all of it needs saying."

So Kel made the changes and sent the letter. She wrote it herself, and asked Heliana to make the copy for files, cautioning her that it was strictly private correspondence. Eyes alight with amusement Heliana solemnly promised she'd tell no-one, and showed Kel two more proposals of marriage that had come in. She read them, wondering how people so obviously deranged made it to adulthood.

"The usual reply. That's what? Five, now? Are they all mad?" "Just ambitious, I think, Lady Kel."

"Ambitious? Huh. Well, bother the lot of them. Would you accept a stranger's proposal by letter? It seems more insulting than flattering."

"You are exceptionally eligible, though, Lady Kel—in your own right, but especially with Mindelan's elevation to a duchy."

"Are you serious, Heliana? I was called the whore of Tortall before I'd started monthlies and it's been made clear often enough no man in his right mind wants a woman who can outfight him, never mind one who talks to gods. And"—she hesitated, but there was no-one else she could ask such a thing, even Yuki—"I know word spread." Her voice went flat. "I was raped. It's not usually a recommendation."

Heliana's face was austere, her voice gentle. "Yes, we heard, Lady Kel, but it wasn't said like that and that's not what people thought. Not at Mindelan, and certainly not here. You protected your people, killing another mage and six tauroses. Then you were killed yourself but the Black God and Lord Mithros sent you back because we need you."

Kel squirmed. "That last bit's not accurate." She told Heliana about the tauroses being Chaos-touched. "It broke a rule the gods have about Uusoae. If it wasn't for that the Black God wouldn't have returned me."

"Maybe so, Lady Kel, but we do need you. That's what people know and what makes sense to them." She hesitated. "Forgive me, but have you … known a man?"

Kel met her eyes. "No. I was a virgin when I was raped."

"Then you still are in every way that matters. It's a strange thing, knowing a man, but it can be very good." Heliana saw Kel's surprise and blushed. "I don't have parents or elder brothers to run off every boy who shows an interest, so it was my decision. I waited a long time, if not so long as you, and I don't regret it, any of it."

"Is he waiting for you?"

"No. nothing like that. He was a soldier on leave, as lonely and hurting as I was. We're friends, no more. But it was right for us, and it'll be so for you when you meet the right man." Her eyes became mischievous. "I do understand why you're not impressed with these proposals, though. They could at least make them in person, eh?"

That night Kel lay awake a long time, thinking about what Heliana had said with considerable bafflement before deciding it was still just that the men she wanted weren't men who wanted her, and relieving her frustrations in the only way she knew. It was all very unsatisfactory but there was nothing to be done, and Heliana's confidence came to seem bitterly hollow a few days later when, as she led evening glaive practice, she was interrupted by one of Uinse's soldiers

saying someone had arrived to see her. The squads who'd taken Gothas and friends to Northwatch had returned and no-one was expected, so leaving Yuki in charge she made her way to the gate, glaive in hand, and nearly dropped it when she saw Dom standing beside a tired-looking horse. She went towards him, a wide smile on her face, but was brought up short when he drew himself awkwardly up and bowed.

"Lady Knight Commander. You said this was an astonishing fort and I see you weren't exaggerating. Might we talk, please, in private?"

"Of course we can, Dom. Neal didn't say you were coming." "He doesn't know. I'd like to speak to you first, if I may."

"Of course." She wasn't hurt, exactly, but his stiffness worried her. "Let me show you where you can stable your horse. Tobe'll unsaddle him and rub him down." Before he could object she sent Uinse's man for Tobe. "It's this way."

As he followed she saw his limp was severe and noticed the lines of a leg brace running from knee to ankle.

"Neatly done, Kel, but I can rub down my own horse, thank you."

She took the offensive. "Why should you after a day's ride when there's someone happy to do it for you? Your injury has nothing to do with courtesy and common sense. I'm glad you found a brace that works, though. Is it in that new Carthaki metal?"

"Yes." His teeth gritted. "Uncle Baird said that was your idea. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Master Randall showed it me—he makes armoured jerkins with it, and I bought barding for Alder from him."

"Alder?"

"My warhorse, now. Peachblossom had to retire."

"He did? What happened?"

"His right hind was smashed by the tauros that killed me." He dropped his eyes, saying nothing, so he'd heard; at least she didn't have to explain. "Zerhalm, Quenuresh, and Daine saved his life but he can't bear me in armour or gallop."

They reached the stables in uncomfortable silence, but when Tobe burst in he simply threw arms around Dom in a hard hug. Almost in reflex, but nevertheless, Dom's arms closed round the boy.

"Oof! Steady, Tobe. How are you?"

"I'm alright, Sergeant Dom. How are you? Ma and Sir Neal said you was injured, like poor old Peachblossom. Is it healed now?"

"Yes, Tobe, as much as it ever will be. And I'm not a sergeant any more—I had to stop all

that."

"Oh. Peachblossom did too, but he does night rounds and keeps the sentries alert. Is that what you're going to do?"

"Something like that, I hope." He shot an appealing glance at Kel. "I need to talk to … your Ma about it first, though."

"Will you see to Dom's horse, please, Tobe? Then ask the cooks if they'll bring dinner for two to my office, and ask Sir Neal and Lady Yuki to find me there after they've eaten. Don't tell them Dom's here. He wants it to be a surprise."

"Sure. It's good to see you, Sergeant Dom. We worried about you." "I said, I'm not a sergeant any more, Tobe."

Tobe looked baffled. "But soldiers keep their ranks when they retire, don't they? Or are you something else, now?"

"Sergeant's fine, Tobe." Kel's voice held a note of warning. "I think Dom just finds it odd,

still."

"Oh. I'll see to the horse. What's his name?"

"Butter. As in butting. You'll see why."

"He won't give any trouble, will you, Butter?"

With the gelding already slobbering affection Kel led Dom to her office. Stairs were awkward for him, and though he didn't use his hands to lift his braced leg wasn't far off it, swinging it widely at each step.

"It's getting stronger. Slowly." His voice was strained.

"Muscle wounds are slow to heal."

"Tell me."

In her office he sat, leg stuck out, and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm making a complete hash of this, aren't I? Curse it."

"I don't know what this is, Dom, but you seem to believe I'll think less of you because you were injured or coping is making you cranky." Gentleness wasn't the way. "Which gods know I understand, but is silly just the same." His head jerked. "Do you think less of me for being raped and killed? Or believe me crippled inside any less than you?"

"Gods … I … of course not."

"Well, then. Why don't you start over? The last news I had of you was a five-line letter that said you were fine."

He looked up, face twisting. "I'm sure it had more than five lines."

"I counted. And you're clearly not fine. Why are you here. Dom, and how can I help?"

"I'm hoping you can find me something useful to do. I'm no good to my brother—he doesn't need a bad clerk and riding the estate every day kills my leg—and no good to myself, either. And all the good wishes from here … I'm sorry I didn't reply. I couldn't. But I thought I could help you as an armourer or something. Be of some use to someone."

His humility was painful. "Alright. I know how good you are with weapons and

command. Tell me plain what you can't do."

He swallowed. "Move fast, climb, stay standing in a fight or for more than an hour, fight on horseback."

"Mmm. I bet Daine could fix Butter so he allows for the lighter pressure of your injured leg. She's magicked Alder to be smart, and he might understand what's needed if you show and Tobe tells him. What?"

"You're so practical, and it's balm, it's what I want, and it hurts."

"Facing loss does, Dom. But it hurts anyway, so there's no point tip-toeing about it." He didn't need to know how much being practical might be hurting her. "Now, I've three companies —two regular with staffs, Mastiff Eighth, under Brodhelm of Frasrlund, with Merric attached and Northwatch Fourteenth, under Mikal of Holtwood, with Seaver attached; then New Hope First, under Uinse and Jacut, with a partial staff because we don't have mages for them but Sir Prosper —Tameran—attached for his magecraft. You're welcome to any post you can work out with any of them, if that's what you want, but the problem with climbing makes regular duty on the walls awkward—access is all by stairways. And I can think of two other posts, for which I'm making up titles right now but not the need. One's Training Master—we've just taken in the rest of the Tirrsmonters and they were forbidden weapons. They're way behind everyone else and integrating them into regular training—which includes glaive and sling—is a real headache. The other's, um, Captain of the Corral, on the other side of the fin. Right now it's got a wall that's just the screepile heaped up and bonded, an iron gate, and one small stable put up for Peachblossom when he was injured, but it's getting more as fast as possible—proper internal structures, crenellations and alure, rocks suspended under merlons, a spiked moat, abatis, and anything else we think of. The western building team is due in a few weeks."

"A fortified corral?"

"Yes. We've found a way through the fin we're tunnelling now, one horse wide and high. I don't want a Captain of the Sally Port, because we're not advertising we're going to have one, but that's the job."

"A way through the fin? Mithros! That's … I'd do that happily, Kel, but that has to be an army appointment and I'm not fit for one."

"I'll grant official dispensation."

He looked shocked. "You can't do that. Can you?"

"Commander's Regulations, Section B, Wartime, 46. A commander may at need induct or conscript into the army any person save nobles, regardless of normal procedures and exemption. Proper rank may be granted for the duration, and wages are payable. Appeal against such conscription is only through the chain of command. My chain of command is Wyldon, Vanget, and the King. They won't argue." She didn't want to add the alternative but owed him the choice. "Or I can make a private appointment—same rank and wage, though a Council seat might be trickier." She thought of what Lasner would say.

"Gods. You are a commander, aren't you. And this place … I thought those sketches had to be exaggerated. But … I don't know. Can you afford to do it privately?"

"Easily. Lalasa tithes more than you'd believe, still. I can't stop her. And there'll be more from the other shops—you know about them?"

"Oh yes, that word reached Masbolle. Uncle Baird told me. Huh. Captain of the Corral." He tried to smile. "It has a ring."

"It does. But why don't you want the dispensation, Dom? It's not even a hard argument— you've more command experience than anyone here except Brodhelm, and the only impediment is a battlefield wound."

"It … I don't know, Kel. You can't bend regs for friendship."

"I'm not. I need someone in charge of the sally port—it's going to be a small command most of the time and critical when the crunch comes. I thought it'd have to be Merric but I wasn't happy. You're a godsend."

For a horrible second she wondered if that were true but he didn't notice, remaining reluctant, and she could see he thought it favouritism; only doing the job would cure that and she really didn't want him as her employee. "Dom, I'd say ask my Lord, but you'd think he was tipping the scales too. But you're not friends with Wyldon or Vanget. Will you take the dispensation if they're alright with it?"

"Yes, alright. I'm sorry—it must seem very ungrateful. I've just not been thinking anything like that was possible." He brightened. "And meantime I can do whatever I can with training, if there's a couple of competent soldiers who can help correct people?"

"Done. Did you ever read Orchan of Eridui? Hang on a minute." She went to her rooms, returning with a clean codex. "Wyldon put me onto him, saying he wasn't original but was clear and had an idea or two about mageblasts worth knowing. I got a copy bound in Corus. I've adapted him a bit but he underlies the design of New Hope's defences. Have a look at that corral and think about what you want."

"I will. Kel, I can't tell you how much this means to me."

"We're the ones gaining, Dom, in every way." And even if you hurt my heart it helps to see your eyes alight again. "Think about yourself, too. Look at what we've done with the glacis and in the caves. The basilisks can shape stone pretty much as they will, so there's no reason there can't be a ramp up to the alure on the corral wall. We don't know where the tunnel will come out but we'll need a ramp there for horses. Internal design apart from the wall will have to wait until we do know but bits can be ready to be slotted in—stables, barracks, secondary headquarters, a farrier's shop and weapon smithy. Oh, and centaurs use the stabling in winter, if snow's bad. Herdmaster's Whitelist—started prickly but settled down and we get on fine, so you'll need to liaise."

"Centaurs. Alright. I've known decent centaurs. Are they trading?"

"Yes—griffin and stormwing fletched arrows for basilisk stoneware. But we're about to go into trade via Mindelan and Legann, so who knows?"

"You're what?"

She laughed, her pain beginning to be cocooned. "Do you want to wait here for the food and Neal and Yuki? Or shall we collect Tobe and go to the messhall—it's worth seeing—and I'll tell you on the way? Then I can introduce you—volunteer veteran Sergeant of the Own, dealing with corral fortification, acting rank of captain. All the Havenites will be delighted. Be prepared for children, though, Dom—there'll be questions about your leg and you'll have to do better than you did with Tobe. You don't have to say anything you don't want, but you will have to answer."

"Yes. I'll apologise to Tobe." He hauled himself upright, wincing, and took a breath. "I can do this."

Those who knew Dom were delighted, none more than Neal, though his concern was evident and he dragged his cousin off to do whatever he might to ease discomfort. Brodhelm and other captains were pleased to have another experienced man, however incapacitated, and relieved by the organisation Dom soon brought to training sessions, running a separate stream for raw Tirrsmonters. Adner was less happy with the need to release them during mornings, but did no more than grumble.

As he recovered from the strain of more than a fortnight's hard riding Dom's mobility improved. When he was fresh his limp was less pronounced and ability to negotiate steps much greater. By afternoon, after leading the training, he needed to sit, and that time was devoted to work with the horses. Alder readily understood what was needed to restore Dom's control, and managed to get something through to Butter, who Tobe said was more cunning than smart but wanted to help. It gave Kel a chance to attend to a matter she knew she'd been neglecting, and she got Dom, with Tobe's help, to fit Alder with his barding and work with both horses; as she had during her page years, Alder needed to work with increased weight to build wind and stamina.

Kel took to riding Hoshi wearing half-armour for the same reason, and four days after Dom's arrival, having made a scheduled visit to Quenuresh and learned the griffins had agreed to spell the gate at Northwatch next time they were over that way, she met Dom at the corral. He was working with Butter and she was experimentally adding her weight to Alder's barding when the alarm sounded and she whirled in the saddle to see a dozen Scanran archers spurring out of the gulley that led to the Mastiff trail.

Their target was a group shoring up a section of the nearer bank eroded by spring floods, and what they didn't seem to realise was that as well as the half-squad of longbowmen on guard all twenty civilians had slings and plenty of good ammunition piled around them. By the time the first arrows from the Scanran's short bows landed wide two flights of needleheads were in the air, and the Scanrans who stayed alive and in the saddle ran into well-aimed barrages of stones at fifty yards from the far bank, and again at twenty. One New Hoper was down with an arrow in his thigh and Kel could see blood on another's forehead but the skirmish was effectively over long before Kel could get even half-way there and her mind was screaming at her that it had been far too easy.

"Everyone to the corral, and all livestock, now! Captain Domitan's in charge. Sergeant Olleric, when everyone's in take two squads over the river to deal with that mess. Move, people. There'll be a second attack."

Pulling out her horn she sounded the continuing alert and heard it repeated beyond the fin. People were moving as fast as they could in wet earth and most livestock seemed to want to cooperate, but though Jump and other dogs kept animals moving it was slow business. She saw Dom take Butter into the corral, leading Hoshi, and a moment after they'd vanished he reappeared by the gate, counting people in. Blessing discipline, she started Alder towards the end of the fin and heard the second alarm she'd known must come, from beyond Haven. Mounted squads were heading north, the air full of horncalls, and she urged Alder to the best speed he could sustain. It was fortunate he wasn't tired but in the barding he was slower than either of them liked, and the squads who'd been north of the fin stayed ahead. After a thundering, seemingly endless three

miles she could see her people engaging mounted Scanrans who must have come through broken ground to the east, beyond the cliff. She couldn't see how many but clearly more than in the first attack, and other squads were converging from further north. Men were down, riderless horses scattering.

Arrows flew in her direction, one clattering off a cuisse and another off some part of Alder's barding. She couldn't see the archers but her glaive was in her hand and she drove into a knot of Scanrans retreating from Connac's squad on their far side. Tortallan destriers were bigger than Scanran horses and the barding's weight became an advantage as Alder sent horses slamming and stumbling into one another, unseating riders, while she used the glaive with deadly, economic chops and stabs. None of her opponents wore plate, only chain-mail at best, and iron links couldn't stop Yamani steel. A fourth man fell as she severed his arm and Alder's swerve brought her attention to two axemen in time to gut one and dodge the other's flailing stroke as Alder dipped his shoulder to slam into his mount, knocking it down. A slashing hoof completed the job as Kel took another man from the side and just held her blow as Connac came up beside her.

"They're breaking, Lady Kel, but they'll reform. There must've been a hundred of 'em and we're still outnumbered."

She could see he was right—Scanrans were disengaging—and her voice cut through the noise. "New Hope, form up on me. Slingmen, get working. If we've archers down, get their bows and quivers and fire as you can. Longbows range them."

The retreating Scanrans halted short of the treeline but at least half their number were down on the field, and by the time they'd regrouped another half-dozen had fallen to slings and arrows.

"Three flights and remount. Form line on me."

More Scanrans fell and a horse staggered sideways, collapsing; as other mounted men took evasive action they dissolved into disorder again. Kel could hear a voice shouting in Scanran but the Tortallan line had formed, a score of riders on either side of her, and she pumped her glaive, starting Alder into a walk. Before he'd advanced fifty yards Scanrans were spurring into the woods, and by the time she went from canter to charge those that remained were outnumbered. She killed the commander with a Yamani move he never saw coming, and then all were down, but so were half-a-dozen of her men, and she cursed surveying the carnage around her and across the fields.

When the all-clear was sounded and healers arrived the tally was grim. Eleven soldiers were dead, and four civilians, including to Kel's piercing sorrow Peliwin Archer, neck torn open by an arrow. Temon told her the civilian hit south of the fin had also died, the great vein of his leg cut through, and two soldiers and a civilian would be permanently disabled, with another score who would heal. It was everyone's most serious fight for a year, and she knew they hadn't been as sharp as they should have been, but there was never any real substitute for combat experience.

The carts that came for the wounded carried back Alder's barding, and Dom, guessing what state he'd be in, sent one of Olleric's men with Hoshi. Remounted, she watched him lead the exhausted gelding back towards New Hope, and as the field was cleared to leave only the Scanran dead saw avid-eyed stormwings perched all around in the trees, Barzha among them with Cloestra beside her, belly distended. Staring blankly Kel reckoned obligations and what Neal had said of Cloestra's needs, then rode over, pulling off her bascinet with its aventail and feeling air stir her sweat-soaked hair.

"Your Majesty."

"Protector."

Kel looked at Cloestra. "Was this meal enough, or do you need more with your labour imminent?"

On a nearby branch Hebakh bated surprise but the females were still until Cloestra shrugged, breasts lifting over her belly.

"I cannot say more is necessary, Protector, but it would be nice."

The thought of a pregnant stormwing playing with glaived corpses juddered in Kel's mind.

Her hands were busy detaching aventail from bascinet and looping it over her saddlehorn.

"Alright. Carry away what you need, to anywhere outside the valley. Do as you must. I ask only that you pile for burning what you do not take, and when you are done add the rest to that pile. We'll burn it tomorrow evening, after our funerals." A thought twisted in Kel's mind. "If you would attend, they'll be at Haven at the first afternoon bell."

Barzha's eyes narrowed and for the first time she gave Kel what had to be called a bow. "Yet another surprise, Protector. Before our confinement to the Divine Realms we would attend funerals as well as battlefields, distinguishing victims from aggressors. I give no commands in this, but Cloestra, Hebakh, and I will be there. For the rest, I agree, commending your wisdom and generosity."

Kel found herself too exhausted to reply and nodded wordlessly, raising a hand in farewell and replacing her bascinet before riding back to her waiting escort, Uinse's squad, who'd come off duty at noon.

"Trouble, Lady Kel?"

She made an effort. "No, Uinse. They'll take the Scanrans elsewhere to play and pile them for burning afterwards. Some will come to the funerals."

"They … you …" He sensibly cut his losses. "Very good, my lady."

Wondering murmurs continued among his men but Kel was too tired to care, and though there was apprehension next day as more than a score of stormwings circled high above the funeral wagons as they processed to Haven, she found herself distracted. With sixteen coffined bodies in four carts and everyone except duty watches they made a formidable column, soldiers armed against possible attack and riding flank, but they were hardly needed for the solitary, unarmoured horseman who saw them coming and pulled up, waiting until Kel, riding in the van, reached him. She had taken in his sober merchant appearance and decent but unspectacular horse, but as she came close enough to see his face her eyebrows rose and he spoke swiftly in a voice that could only have come from Corus and reassured all who heard it.

"Ah, I'm sorry, my Lady—I see I've come at a bad time. My condolences. My name's Arrohel, representing merchants in Corus who've heard the northern trade's restarting."

So. "No blame to you, Master Arrohel. We didn't know ourselves we'd be doing this until yesterday. I'll be glad to see you after if you care to wait, or you're welcome to join our ritual."

"I'm honoured to do so, my Lady."

He waited respectfully as laden carts creaked past him, falling in behind as they wound up the road to Haven. Stormwings glided in to land on the edge of the knoll, watching but saying nothing, and the ceremony followed the pattern established with the tauros victims, friends and

comrades speaking of memories and loss. She spoke herself last, of Peliwin Archer, recalling her early misstep at Haven and suffering at the hands of one of Stenmun's men as well as her courage in rebuilding a life. When she was done she looked at Barzha.

"Is there aught you would say, Your Majesty, before I commend them to the Black God?"

"Only that we are sorry for their loss, Protector. They did not seek the war that came to them, and we acknowledge their innocence. Their killers we have punished as we may."

What anyone would make of that Kel didn't know but nodded before opening arms wide, naming the dead, and speaking words she'd used before. "They died in our service and I pray they shall find their deaths their grace, and the Black God's mercy infinite."

"So mote it be."

There was anticipation in the response and chimes sounded directly with a wind that wasn't blowing soughing through trees that weren't there. The new Tirrsmonters started, as did Master Arrohel, but those standing near hushed questions and Kel kept to her tradition of leading back down from the knoll in silence. Many people were in working clothes and headed back to the fields, squads accompanying, but with the children and many adults going back to New Hope accompanied by the off-duty soldiers Kel had no chance to speak to the merchant privately before she could usher him into her office and close the door.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Does the Black God respond to every funeral here, Lady Keladry? Or Lady Kel, is it?"

"Every one so far, my Lord. May I ask what you're doing here?"

Baron George Cooper smiled slightly. "It's not wise for me to travel alone under my own name. And I learn more this way." The smile faded. "As to what I'm doing, well, it was about time I saw this marvel you've created, but I'm afraid I've a personal reason. Do you know my daughter Alianne? Aly?"

"I'm afraid I've never met her. She's, what, seventeen?"

"She will be this year, but she's missing."

"Missing? Gods, I'm sorry to hear it. What happened?"

"She was sailing down to Legann early last month but never arrived. It could be pirates, or shipwreck, but I can't be sure. You've heard nothing of a girl on her own arriving anywhere north?"

"I'm afraid not. You think she might have … run away?"

"I don't know what to think. She was at odds with both of us, a little, because she wanted to become a spy and we weren't so keen."

Kel could imagine, but as Baron Cooper was clearly the Whisper Man, as Neal averred, she supposed his daughter's ambition made sense. "Does Alanna know?"

He shook his head gloomily. "No. I've kept it from the lass so far—she'd only make herself sick worrying. But she'll find out soon enough." What happened then would be a Lioness explosion of epic proportions and Kel winced. He nodded. "Exactly. She'll not be happy with me, but there it is. I can't spread word too widely—if someone's holding Aly they might not realise who she is, and I don't want to inform them—but I'd be glad if you'd keep eyes and ears open.

Lord Wyldon will be doing so too."

"Of course."

"Thank you. The problem's partly that without Daine information from the north is limited, so I thought I'd better check myself. And Aly could have headed for the war. She wanted to do something."

"I see." And while the thought of heading for a war without a clear destination boggled her, Kel did, in a way: being the daughter of the Lioness and not wanting to be a knight could not have made for an easy transition to adulthood. But there was nothing she could say. "May I ask, my Lord, do you know how Daine is?"

"Large, unless she's had the babe by now, but well, last I heard. She has problems with the baby changing inside her, I believe."

"She does, but I'm glad to know she's well. I've had no news of her since I left Corus in February, though I did feel reassurance when I prayed to the Green Lady." A thought struck her. "Forgive me, my Lord, but have you prayed to ask where Aly is?"

He nodded wearily. "I have, to my own patron god and Alanna's Goddess, but they don't seem to be listening. The King and Numair have scried, but it's as if she's vanished into thin air."

"Oh. May I ask which god is your patron?"

"The Crooked God, as befits a former thief and serving spymaster. But he's as crooked as his name and we've not had dealings in a while."

Kel blinked. The Crooked God was the chief trickster. "I don't know him at all, I'm afraid, and we've no shrine to him, but there is one to Lord Sakuyo, and to the Goddess, who've been listening pretty closely to us. It might be worth trying."

"Huh, it's an idea, thank you. But I ought to maintain my cover—could you show me what you're trading here and take the shrines in?"

"Of course. You know we're trading through Master Orman? And setting up a Craftsbeings' Guild?" Kel had sent papers to Turomot a month before.

"Oh yes. I get word from Orman and some of his men, including Barin. I saw the stoneware you sent the Prince and Princess. Beautiful. And those papers you lodged have caused much fluttering." He grinned. "You'll have fun trying to join the League of Guilds, I fancy, but they had no grounds to object and the King was admiring. You'll get approval soon."

"Well, that'll be welcome. What sort of goods are you, um, supposed to be interested in?"

"I think I'm just scouting, but you might get some real scouts, you know. That deal you've struck with Orman and Imrah has men who used to run the northern trade gnashing."

"Has it? I've no sympathy—they dropped it the second war started. And the point's not to make money for merchants but to make New Hope self-supporting. Master Orman appreciated that."

The Baron's look was keen. "I can believe that. He's a good sort and knows when to profit and when to be generous."

She took him to the smithy and woodshops, and showed him the way they used webbing

as well as the helmet mesh. His cover story was note-perfect, and audible comments about tight-fisted merchants and the fuss over the proposed Guild gave amused satisfaction. Then it was reasonable to detour to the shrines on the way to see cut limestone blocks piled up by the last barracks, but as they passed the playground Irnai stood from a group surrounding Amiir'aan and walked over, face serious. Silently she pulled Kel's sleeve and Kel squatted, resting a hand on her shoulder as the Baron quirked eyebrows.

Irnai's voice was a murmur. "Lady Kel, is that the Whisper Man?"

Kel's own eyebrows jerked up—she hadn't known Irnai even knew that name and to identify him was ridiculous unless …. She nodded to Irnai and gestured the Baron to squat with them.

"If I'm not mistaken, my Lord, Irnai has something for the Whisper Man from Shakith." "She does?" He hunkered down. "And what would that be?"

Irnai regarded him gravely. "She came to me just now and said I should tell the Whisper Man with Lady Kel not to pray to the Goddess here about his daughter, and to remember the Kyprish Prophecy."

The Baron's face went still. "The Kyprish Prophecy … Curse him, I'll have his ears." Kel blinked. "Whose ears?"

"Kyprioth's, if he's mixed up in this. That's the raka name for the Crooked God. He was the great god of the Copper Isles before the Rittevon conquest. The Kyprish Prophecy says he will be again when the raka queens are restored. Which isn't unlikely the way Oron carries on."

Planning to take a god's ears seemed unwise to Kel but she didn't understand any of this. "What have the Copper Isles to do with it?"

"Who knows? But I think Aly's there. Gods, yes. If she was picked up at sea—and there was a raid about then, down the coast—they'd have her in Rajmuat in a few days. It would explain why I've heard nothing." He looked at Irnai. "Why the Goddess mustn't know I can't imagine but I'll not argue, though my lass might. Will you thank Shakith for me?"

"She has gone now but I will tell her when she next speaks to me."

"Thank you, Irnai. Please don't tell anyone about this." Gravely he offered a hand and she took it, smiling shyly.

"I only did as the god said and I don't talk about her unless I am supposed to. I must go back to Amiir'aan—he is telling of animal gods."

She skipped away, carefree, and the adults straightened.

"Interesting children you have here, Lady Kel. I know from the King about Irnai's

prophecy and being guided by Shakith in Scanra, but not that she still received private messages."

There was a questioning note in his voice, and Kel nodded firmly. "She does seem to, my Lord. And to think of Shakith as, well, a friend, I suppose. Just one who's a god."

He shook his head, smiling. "Convenient. And I'm grateful. I'd have started looking overseas next but that's a lot of places to look. Rajmuat. Huh. I wonder what's going on there. Still, show me the shrines, and this cut stone and your caves. I'll stay tonight—it'd look odd,

otherwise—but I'll be gone before dawn. I've a daughter to find."


	17. Chapter 15

Bereavement

Chapter Fifteen — Bereavement

May–June

As May wore on Kel considered the report due at the calend and thought the picture mixed. The deaths had shaken everyone and with the soldiers killed by tauroses Brodhelm was down a full squad; they also made everyone put more effort into training, especially Tirrsmonters, and with Dom's extra sessions most were now able to send arrows or stones in something like the intended direction. Reconditioned arms from Tirrsmont had found good homes and on paper boosted their defense, but if any significant number of civilians were engaged in close combat she'd already have failed, strategically and in her duty. Progress with the tunnel was steady and plans for the corral taking shape, but larger numbers of people in more fields meant strengthening guard squads and reducing patrols. Merric wasn't happy and neither was Kel, especially with information received from Vanget and Wyldon sharply down in Daine's absence despite new pickets along the Vassa.

There were other matters to include. Cloestra had successfully laid her egg, in a tent beside the infirmary—a process that had the stormwing screeching obscenities some of which made even the admiring soldiers who listened blench, and required healing from Neal, leaving him as much as the new mother a sweat-soaked but triumphant mess. There was also a scatter of moulted steel feathers that Kel had boiled clean and sent to the fletchers. Barzha said it was a good laying and her remark that now they'd have to see if the egg would hatch led to a surprising discussion. The problem, apparently, was that a steel eggshell made for problems with heatloss, whatever it rested on; fully a third of eggs did not hatch. Kel's answer was a wooden block with a shallow depression for Cloestra to sit in and a deeper, egg-shaped bowl carved out of its middle; once installed at the junction of terrace and eastern shelf, under an overhang, and petrified, basilisks could heat the stone. Amiir'aan had happily taken the duty of rewarming it whenever Cloestra thought necessary as well as guarding the egg when she flew for exercise, and as the stormwing was reasonably clean others among the children, increasingly curious rather than frightened, had begun to talk to her. Adults were less thrilled, and unhappier still when members of the Stone Tree Nation came to visit, but all resident immortals were deeply amused, and Barzha's and Cloestra's slightly stunned gratitude at Kel's solution to a problem they'd faced for millennia was very satisfying.

A letter from Master Orman arrived with the crates of jam she'd ordered, saying he was impressed with the stoneware, as were all who'd seen it, and as soon as the Craftsbeings' Guild was chartered he'd take as much as they could produce. He would also buy helmet-mesh, webbing, and cut stone, commended Kel's arrangement with Mindelan and Legann, and offered a combination of cash and barter that was more generous than she'd expected and had Idrius beaming. The trade would enable New Hope to buy almost all the extra food it needed, and bring in a few luxuries; it would also gain the immortals and those working with them ready money, from wood-turners and –carvers to older children who helped haul cartloads of webbing from Spidren Wood, and Kel had been fascinated one warm evening to find Idrius giving an impromptu tutorial on wealth to St'aara, Var'istaan, and Kuriaju.

The courier also brought letters of thanks from Imrah and Shinko, the latter's including news that Daine had given birth to a baby girl—or cub, foal, kit, and many other things, randomly from moment to moment so far as Shinko could tell. Neither Daine nor Numair had been able to

persuade young Sarralyn to stay in one form and, if delighted, were exhausted to the point of stupidity; nursing, Shinko added delicately, was also made difficult by such varying mouths, giving Kel alarming visions. The child was to have a naming ceremony at Midsummer, at Trebond so Alanna, standing as godsmother, could attend, and Kel, Tobe, and Irnai were invited; it was hoped Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady would cross over for the day. Kel sent a letter of warm congratulations telling Daine and Numair about Cloestra's egg, inventive cursing, and incubation, with accounts of Peachblossom and Alder's help training Butter. She doubted she'd make it to Trebond for Midsummer; writing reminded her she would turn twenty a few days after, and she contemplated the fact with surprise. Her last two birthdays had passed unmarked amid combat, and she wondered what might happen this year.

To Wyldon she sent news of Alder's barding. The arrow she'd heard during the fight had skidded off his crupper, scoring one of the scales, so utility was proven but he'd been as chagrined as a horse could be at how much it had slowed and tired him, and was training hard. With help from the ostlers Tobe fitted him each morning with barding, and while Kel did paperwork he went down the roadway, cantered from moatbridge to limestone bridge and back, and reascended, over and over. Guards were timing him and his speed was increasing steadily; so was endurance.

Two days before the calend two developments occurred, one warmly welcome, the other anything but. Late in the morning a mixed group of immortals came hesitantly up valley from the Vassa Road—four adult basilisks with a youngling, a score of ogres, and as many spidrens. After study from the lookout post Kel sent for Var'istaan and Kuriaju, and readied an escort. The early warning meant she was able to collect Quenuresh and they met the newcomers a mile north of Spidren Wood.

There was considerable wariness but with the resident immortals to offer reassurances in both directions all proved well. The basilisks were two males, Laar'aan and Spiir'aan, and a mated pair, Mnaa and Histu'aan, with their daughter Bel'iira; the ogres were a family of farmers led by Samiaju; the spidrens a mixed group led by an older, larger male, Aldoven, nothing like Quenuresh's size, who treated her with extreme respect. All had come west from lands around the City of the Gods, where fighting had intensified in April before settling back into the siege that had been going on for two full years.

As Kel spoke with them she became increasingly elated. The basilisks had heard of stonework being done at New Hope and wanted to participate—which besides strengthening trade meant an extra shift on the tunnel, presently limited by Var'istaan's and St'aara's magical endurance, and if Kel had her way a start on steps up the fin. The ogres were equally welcome, wanting a protective community and to practice terrace farming on slopes too steep to plough; Kel's only worry was vulnerability to attack from the treeline, especially with guard squads stretched to cover them, but Samiaju was untroubled.

"We know the war continues, Protector, and New Hope is a target, but to have guards and a stronghold to sleep in are great improvements. And when we have a slope to terrace Aldoven has offered to block access from the treeline with webbing in return for crops."

Aldoven nodded. "An armed mortal could cut through, but it will impede and give warning."

Kel looked at Quenuresh. "Could that be done elsewhere?"

The spidren mage hissed. "The whole valley, Protector? No. There is too much and we are talking of heavy webbing rising five feet or more that will need renewing every year."

"Just treelines closest to fields we're working, then?"

"Maybe." She laughed. "You will have sore spinnerets, Aldoven. And you are going to owe me a great deal of cheese, Protector."

"We'll trade for more if we have to. Or add meat, if you like. But I can't ignore anything that might give people a chance to get to safety."

"I understand. Aldoven and I must talk of what is and is not allowed here, but if all is well shall I show them to the eastern valley?"

"Please, though it will have to be confirmed by the King. And be aware, Aldoven, trappers use that valley, and it's possible Scanrans will come through."

"Trappers we can live with, Protector, even trade with—we trap ourselves and do not wear fur. And if Scanrans pass the markers we set around the designated land they will wish they had not."

Any line of defence blocking routes raiders could use was music to Kel's ears, and after asking Aldoven to come for a treaty swearing next day she watched Quenuresh leading him and his party off with a sense of amazement. Who would have dreamed it a year before? The afternoon was spent introducing basilisks and ogres, settling them into Immortals' Row, where more chambers were begun, and debating with Samiaju and Adner which slopes might be terraced and which reserved for hay. As it happened Adner had experience of terrace farming and the technical discussion was interesting, but in late afternoon Kel was called to the gate by Brodhelm to find she had indeed heard right and the people asking admission were Sir Voelden, the thin-faced captain, Rogal, and one remaining member of his command, a burly man called Emerint who seemed simple.

"Are you serious, Sir Voelden? You ask admission as refugees?"

"What choice do I have, Lady Knight?" The title was ground out and Kel noted the absence of any 'commander'. "Tirrsmont is gone. We have no food and nowhere else to go."

He had lost weight, and all their faces were lean. Kel had to admit he had a case of sorts but was viscerally reluctant to have him at New Hope and her rationalisations didn't have to be forced.

"But why come here, of all places? Go south—find work there." "I am not welcome in Corus."

"You must realise you will be unwelcome to your former liegefolk here, and I can offer you no accommodation but refugee barracks."

"Barracks?"

"Yes. Or the caves. With three companies and four knights all else is taken, and I'm not turfing anyone out on your behalves."

"So be it. And we will serve to fight Scanrans."

"Everyone fights Scanrans here, even children. I doubt you're proposing to enlist."

"Call it what you will, Lady Knight. We will fight. Isn't that enough?"

"That depends who you're fighting and how. People here are soldiers or work as needed and fight in drilled and organised ways—we can't afford to do otherwise when the alarm sounds.

And you have not yet acknowledged that I command here."

"I used your title."

"But not her rank, Sir Voelden." Brodhelm's face was impassive. "Lady Keladry is the third-ranking officer of this district, after my Lords of Cavall and Goldenlake. The term Protector is used by immortals and recognised by His Majesty."

Voelden grimaced; Rogal looked as if he'd eaten something rotten.

"Very well. Commander. Are you going to protect us as we ask?"

Kel felt trapped. "We'll see. The first test is for you to stand under the Honesty Gate, state your names, and declare you mean no harm of any kind to any being at New Hope."

Emerint passed easily, Rogal with clipped words. Voelden looked at her.

"I cannot say I wish you no harm, Commander. I'd gladly see you dead and you know it. But I have no intention of harming you myself, and mean no harm to any man here."

"There are women, children, basilisks, ogres, and spidrens also." "I mean no harm to any living thing here, then."

"Very well. I also require your oaths that you will obey standing orders and any given you by a knight, officer, or member of the Council, and that you will conduct yourself soberly with respect for all. By giving them you place yourselves under army jurisdiction, and the only appeal from my judgement is to my Lord of Cavall and General Vanget. And let me be frank. Under that jurisdiction your attempt to run me through tilting, Sir Voelden, would be punishable by death. And your conduct the last time you were here, like that of Rogal, would attract punishment— confinement on bread and water, probably. Your habitual ways of referring to women and those you despise would earn extended latrine duty. I am sworn not to abuse my authority, but neither will I hesitate to use it if necessary, and you are supplicants here."

Emerint was again untroubled, though he had to be prompted with the necessary words, while Rogal and Voelden looked sour but did swear. Kel had Brodhelm, Mikal, Uinse, and Merric as witnesses, and after delegating to Uinse the task of finding places in a barracks or the cave and giving basic orientation, she asked the others to make formal depositions as witnesses. Merric raised his eyebrows.

"You expect trouble from them, Kel?"

"I don't know, Merric. Emerint might be alright—he'll do well enough by anyone who looks after him. But I don't trust Voelden or Rogal as far as I can throw them, and yes, I expect trouble with one or both." She tried to think it through. "Suppose I do wind up with Voelden on a charge—what's the standing of a knight who was a noble until six weeks ago? And can he extend noble protection to Rogal? The whole thing's ambiguous but oaths, witnessed by all of you, make clear my authority to judge them for any infraction of direct or standing orders."

He whistled. "I see. Still, you couldn't turn them away."

"I wanted to."

"It'll be alright, Kel—we'll watch them like hawks."

And everyone did, for a few days. The Tirrsmonters were especially unhappy, though Kel

was half-amused to see Lasner's ostentatious coldness to his former master's son, and no-one wanted the three in their barracks so they wound up in small cave-spaces between loom- and look-out chambers. As she'd suspected Emerint proved tractable and took a liking to Uinse, so she attached him to Company One as a volunteer. Sir Voelden was a misfit in every sense but had fighting skills and was of use to Companies Eight and Fourteen as a sparring partner; he was willing to patrol and at Merric's urging Kel let him. Rogal proved the problem, unable to adjust to not being in authority and openly scornful of her refusal to grant him any. He was a decent archer, however, and a combination of leading practice and being given duty on the eastern alure seemed to mollify him. When Wyldon received her report he was onto the spellmirror in a hurry, incredulous that Sir Voelden had claimed refuge and she'd granted it. He listened as she ran through her thinking, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"Mithros, what a mess. I agree you couldn't turn them away but it's absurd for Sir Voelden to say he's not welcome in Corus—he means not welcome at the Palace."

"I thought he was probably avoiding unpaid bills. Is he liable for his father's debts?"

He frowned. "Probably not—he inherits nothing but may have debts of his own, of course. Do you know when he came north?"

"With Ettenor. He stayed at Tirrsmont when the civilians left. I'm sorry, I thought you

knew."

"No, but there's no reason I should. I thought he'd have stayed with his father until …"

"Has it happened?"

"Yes. Last week. Does he know?"

"Perhaps not. I don't know where he'd get news. That means I ought to tell him." Kel couldn't imagine a less welcome duty and turned the subject. "But he shouldn't distract us from good news, Wyldon. I have spidrens guarding the eastern approach, the tunnel's advancing at double rate, and I've started Spiir'aan and Histu'aan on steps up the fin. Plus there's an additional field ready for planting—those ogres work hard—and we should be able to pay for all the extra food we need."

"Yes, immortals coming in is good news, and your progress sounds excellent, as do the finances—the King will be pleased. I don't believe there's ever been a self-supporting refugee camp, Keladry—it's a tremendous achievement. I'm concerned about more land going to spidrens, though, even if presently unclaimed. It'll be hard to undo such a grant after the war, if we needed to."

Kel shrugged. "Why should we? That valley's uninhabited except for itinerant trappers and Aldoven promised to respect them. If spidrens are coming in they have to go somewhere. And the King gave me full powers to deal with immortals. I've sent him notification directly."

"He did? I didn't know that."

"I wasn't going to shout it but yes, after we met the elemental."

"Ah. May I ask on what terms?"

"In respect of immortals under treaty at New Hope, or others who come there. If there is no time to ask but you need my authority, you have it, without fear of traducement. I will not forget. I had to make a decision, but I've made it clear it's subject to His Majesty's approval, and sought it."

"Then that's fine. And you're right they have to go somewhere." He rubbed his forehead again. "I'm getting too old for this, Keladry."

"Nonsense. You coped with me—what's a spidren or twenty?" The look he gave her made her laugh aloud.

Forthrightness was the only option. "Sir Voelden, I am sorry to refer to this, and for any pain it causes, but it is my duty to make sure you are aware the sentence on your father has been carried out." She hesitated, but even if she hadn't the least idea how she felt about this bizarre situation she could speak truth. "It would seem hypocritical to tell you I'm sorry, but I would wish such news on no-one. Is there anything you need? The Black God's shrine is available to all and I have communication with Mastiff and Northwatch. They could mage-relay a message south."

His blank face twisted. "No. Thank you." His voice grated. "You have done your duty." He half-turned but swung back, hesitating. "That didn't sound as I meant it. I … I cannot like you, but I cannot deny I see you doing duty to the realm. Doing it well." He turned again.

"Please wait. That is … interesting." It might not be wise but she had to know. "Will you tell me, between us alone and on my word without penalty—was that lance strike an accident?"

The blankness and twist repeated. "No. I apologise for it. I would kill you in a fair fight without compunction, but I am ashamed I did that on the field of honour. I am not … I was not without it. Once."

"Nor are you now, or I wouldn't have accepted your oath. Honour isn't like innocence, lost with knowledge. Nor like nobility or any rank. It's just how you behave every day and can be counted on to behave. And I accept your apology. If you know, will you tell me why I made you forget your honour in that moment? I was fifteen."

He met her gaze. "At the time I'd have said I recovered honour from your smirching of it. The truth is I had debts."

"And Joren paid them."

He swallowed. "You know about that?"

"The elemental of the Chamber said he paid at least one knight to try to kill me."

"The elemental … It wasn't … I did not understand it as that at the time." His voice dropped. "I am not denying my responsibility but Joren was … he made it seem …"

"I know. He was smooth. Last question. Did Stone Mountain know what Joren was doing? I'm guessing we're talking about sizeable sums, but perhaps he had that much himself as a squire."

"Why do you care?"

"Stone Mountain apologised to me when I asked the elemental on his behalf why it killed

Joren. I have difficulty knowing if he was sincere and, frankly, if he is wholly rational in his grief. We both now sit on the King's Council. And I have survived two assassination attempts this year, one seemingly commissioned by Sir Guisant and one by King Maggur. If Stone Mountain knowingly paid for attempts on my life in the past …"

He had been in Corus for one and had to have heard about the other, and nodded slowly. "I agree Lord Burchard has not been himself since Joren's death, but if he apologised to you, he meant it. And Joren … if he needed more money than he had he would have asked Genlith, not his father. Whether he did so I cannot say."

"Thank you. Let me say also that while there are many reasons I cannot yet grant you more authority than patrol second, I recognise your skills and knowledge. If you have any suggestion for defence or organisation, anything to strengthen us, I will listen. I believe we will face a major attack before the war ends, and if we are agreed New Hope must not fall, that nothing is more important, we should be fine."

"I have no love for Scanrans."

"I don't care who it is, I just don't like people attacking my people. And I will do anything to defend them."

"I realise that. I doubt your defences can be improved." He gave her a strange look. "That was one thing that made me think about what you have done here."

"What else?" Kel was curious.

"My father." He waved a hand. "A thousand people who swear by you. Other things. Lasner's a weathercock but that spidren and those basilisks and ogres aren't, and I know what holding the respect of soldiers requires, besides money to pay them. I find I cannot … begrudge you command. Nor honestly blame you for what happened. I did not know my father had dipped so deep."

That was to Kel less in Voelden's favour than he seemed to suppose but they parted on better terms and she had no time to worry further about him or Rogal for in the first week of June the building team arrived with laden wagons. She showed a cheerful Geraint developments, and while the presence of Cloestra and size of Immortals Row shocked him he was appreciative of work in the caves, especially the lookout post. The rapidly deepening tunnel through the fin was also an amazement, and Kel explained about the central chamber, which she hoped to reach in time for the building team to help bridging it. Then she convened a meeting and invited Dom to present his plans for the corral.

After reading Orchan and discussing how she'd structured the main defences, he'd worked hard to have things ready. With the practice sessions it had restored his sense of purpose and Kel had mutely rejoiced, though his sense of diminution at being unable to take the field remained evident and he was as bitterly private about his injury as she had been about the Hag's healing. Other than Neal as a healer he'd allowed no-one to see his leg, bluntly refusing offers of help until they dried up, and it twisted her heart to watch him ineffectively try to adjust or scratch under his brace through cloth. His physical presence had returned him vividly to her fantasies, but lack of knowledge and consequent imaginations of his injury, to which she might somehow minister, hands soothing his flesh, were as dominant as more familiar conjurations of what his hands might do to her own. Shaking away an image as indecent as it was arousing she concentrated on his words.

"Starting from the outside, the first thing is a moat, ten feet deep and fifteen wide, with petrified spoil piled as vertically as possible on the outer side, providing a drop and glacis. I

haven't seen what's under the water in the main moat but I gather serious spikes are in order, and there should be an abatis angled down from the base of the wall, with upper surfaces as sharp and slippery-smooth as possible."

Geraint glanced up. "Oh, very nasty. I like it, captain."

Kel saw Dom blink at the rank, but she hadn't been joking about the captaincy of the corral. It wasn't going to be a sergeant's command.

"Ah, thank you, Master Geraint. Now, to fill and drain the moat we'll need soughs connecting to the Greenwoods. We've surveyed, and for the inflow there are natural slopes we can exploit, here and here." He pointed on the map Kel had brought from her office. "The outflow's trickier and the sough will have to deepen to overcome the rise here. We may need to bridge it for the trail round the fin. But we can do something good with the gateway. We must balance defence and ability to sally, and the best answer I can think of is to extend the moat to the fin and have a drawbridge. I'm no hand with a pen but I've done a plan."

He passed it to Geraint. Kel had seen it but others stood to cluster round and peer over Geraint's shoulders. Mikal's finger traced the plan.

"So if you sallied you'd come across the bridge to fan left, and attackers would have no clear shots at the gate because the raised drawbridge would shield it?"

"That's right. The sill of the gate might have to be ramped up a bit, but that's no problem"

"Mmm." Geraint looked thoughtful. "How do you want to raise the drawbridge? Gaffs and rainures?"

"I'd rather use angle chains and counterweights."

"You'll need a big counterweight. What is there we could use?"

"How about a portcullis? Or cut rock from the fin."

"Portcullis as counterweight? Oh that's a fine thought, though we'd need some rock too, I

think."

"Once it's in position it could be petrified for maximum weight."

"Of course it could. It'll mean a more massive gatehouse structure than you've allowed, and your smiths will have to make chains—we've nothing the right size though we have iron to use. Not enough, though."

Kel sat forward. "We have rusty mail that can be melted down." "Right. What's this structure inside the gate? A killing field?"

"Yes. An extension of the barbican. An L -shaped wall with an alure, accessible from the main wall, and a single gateway as a choke-point in case anyone does get in—pursuing after a sally, say."

"It'll be an interesting job but ought to be possible."

"Good." They reseated themselves. "Now the wall itself is nice and high—about twenty-five feet, with a few dips—but not as steep as I'd like on the outside. From what I understand making it sheer probably isn't possible without Master Numair or other high-level mages, but it

needs to be faced with petrified mud so it's smooth, and the stone we move to shape the alure could create a vertical rise at the top below a crenellated parapet. Even an overhang. And I'd like a wide alure—without the height of New Hope range will depend on draw, or sling length and speed, and both will be better if people can take a good stance."

"Right you are, captain." Geraint was pleased. "The number of people who don't see that is astonishing. I've spent time arguing for wider alures but they take more material. With a stone wall already present that's not a problem. What sort of access d'you want? The same staircases as the main alures?"

Dom flushed. "Um, not really. My leg makes stairs hard and Lady Kel was kind enough to suggest ramps. But if that's a problem …"

To Kel's relief Geraint was briskly practical. "Not at all. Easier, actually, if you mean traverse ramps."

"Yes. I did a sketch."

He passed it over and Geraint's eyes lit up. "Perrons! Splendid. I haven't done any of those for a while."

Kel could see others as puzzled as she. "Perrons?"

"Oh, sorry. Balcony landings, usually with a single-flight staircase on either side, but here with ramps." He held up Dom's sketch, showing four pairs of ramps rising to meet at the alure and form triangles with the ground. "Properly the perron is just the landing, here projecting from the alure, but the whole structure's also called a perron."

"And it's no problem?" Dom's voice was flat but Kel could hear how much it meant to

him.

"No, provided the basilisks can unstick and restick bonded scree as they did before."

Kel nodded. "They can, and we've six adults now, not two. St'aara's running the schoolhouse, and I want shifts on the tunnel to continue so we can reach that chamber, but the stairway up the fin can wait so you can have three adults. And Amiir'aan and Bel'iira can help with facing."

"What about internal structures?"

"Dom?"

"It depends where the tunnel comes out, and I've been thinking about that. If that crack in the fin runs as straight beyond the central chamber as it does this side—which the spidrens say it seems to—then when the tunnellers hit limestone again they'll be deep in the cliff and need to go sideways. It won't be Master Geraint's job but there's no reason that extra bit of tunnel need be straight—it'll be in limestone, so from what Var'istaan and Petrin tell me it should be easy to put in corners and defensive positions. Go in a square, say, and when they hit the fin again go straight, which means the tunnel will come out right in the angle of fin and cliffs."

Brodhelm nodded vigorously. "Good thinking, Dom—the more defences there are in the tunnel the happier I'll be. Your walls and moat are good, and the drawbridge excellent, but I can't help thinking of the tunnel as a back door. No offence."

"None taken—I feel that way myself. But the thing is it means we can be sure where the tunnel will come out. The other consideration is keeping space for the horses, including centaurs'

herds in winter, so I thought buildings should be along cliffs and fin." He produced another plan. "A large stableblock along the limestone, stepped to hug it, and the farrier's shop, barracks, and secondary headquarters along the fin."

"That's straightforward and the stable will be interesting."

Seaver frowned. "Why one big one, Dom? Won't it make a bottleneck for getting horses out? When you want to sally, I mean."

"It could, but a double door would take care of that. The main reason is heat in winter— harder to get a big space warm but easier to keep it warm. I've talked to people about this last winter, especially keeping the stables warm when everyone retreated to the caves, and I think it'd be best to minimise the problem. That's why I've marked the stable for double walls, stone and timber, and I thought if the spidrens can set webbing below the roof that we fill with a layer of hay the horses' bodyheat should be retained."

"Oh that's excellent, Dom." Merric bounced in his seat. "That would help in the stables here. We should have thought of it when we were dreaming up those helmets, Brodhelm— Quenuresh was right here and for hay you'd only need wide mesh. What is it, Kel?"

"Just thinking of the cheese bill. But you're right—it is good thinking. All these plans are —thank you, Dom." Absurdly and endearingly he flushed and her heart hammered. "Geraint, can you—we—do all that?"

"We can, Lady Kel, but we'll need workforce. My lads will be best used on internal structures, and with basilisk help on wall and gatehouse. Digging the moat is brute labour."

"I anticipated that. We have more than four hundred adult refugees now, as well as the mining ogres and any off-duty soldiers who are willing to put in time. Adner's never happy losing anyone from fieldwork but ploughing and planting are pretty much complete, and I want this done as rapidly as possible, so you'll have three hundred plus pairs of hands—enough to start multiple sections at once."

He whistled. "That'll do it."

"I hope so. Now there's also safety, and we have to have guards out for people north of the fin, but it's easier with so many in one place and you'll have a duty company as protection. We have a number of horn calls worked out, depending on where a threat comes from, and I want your people drilled in those. If one does sound, everyone except the duty company gets into the corral fast."

"Of course. It's too late to start today, but maybe you could do the drill this evening? Then we can get stuck in first thing tomorrow."

Dinner was enlivened by demonstrated horncalls and the reaction of the building team to the glowing warmth of the pillars and rich carvings. The refugees were glad to see New Hope's builders and there was merriment, but work started shortly after dawn, with nine teams of thirty and most of the mining ogres so progress was swift.

Geraint and Kel co-ordinated who was doing what. The older children began the inlet sough, a foot square, along a route surveyors pegged, and Amiir'aan and Bel'iira—the latter delighted to be called on—alternated between petrifying completed sections, which prevented collapse while giving the children a clear sense of achievement, and mud smoothed onto the wall. The basilisks worked with Geraint's men and every mage able to hold loose stone in place to transform the allering from a rough mound to a very different profile, with the overhang Dom

wanted blending into eight feet of crenellated parapet and a ten-foot alure. When a quarter was done, nearest the limestone, the first ramps and perron were sculpted on the inner face and Geraint grew thoughtful.

"I think people can climb those faster than the switchback staircases on the New Hope alures. You can take them at a run without having to slow or reverse. I know you were thinking of Captain Domitan's leg, Lady Kel, but I think ramps should become a standard design."

"I like them, too, Geraint. And please tell Dom—he thought I was wrongly … catering to his injury."

"I will. You don't mind people coming to see them? If I submit the report I'm thinking of there are people who'll want to."

"Recommend away. We've been visited by the Crown Prince and Princess and two gods. I'm hoping for an eighty-five foot dragon, too, so people wanting to see ramps is no problem." She grinned at his expression. "In return, perhaps you could emphasise the co-operation of all our immortals? We couldn't do half of this without them."

"I'll happily do that." He looked at her. "Have you had problems?"

"Some. The Tirrsmonters had been told absurd lies, and one of them induced a boy to throw a stone at Amiir'aan. It cut his head—and might have been worse."

"Amiir'aan? But he's sweet."

"According to this man he's a monster with no place among mortals."

"Gods, what a fool. What happened to him?"

"He and his friends are at Northwatch. General Vanget thought some army service with his lads could be … educational."

"Heh. I bet. And I'll gladly spread that word, Lady Kel—the basilisks are changing what's possible architecturally. Fortifications aside, when this war's done I'd like to partner with one, and a mage, to build houses—you could do something really spectacular."

Kel laughed. "So you could. Tell Idrius. We're establishing a Craftsbeings' Guild to trade in petrified ware and webbing. We could add architectural services."

"I will—and if you're serious, that's a deal, Lady Kel."

She offered him a hand, and they went back to work. Some of the building team had been preparing foundations, and as the inlet sough was completed, releasing children to continue facing alure, parapet, ramps, and inner wall with mud from the moat spoil, corner posts and then floors and walls started to appear. Camaraderie was high—the newcome Tirrsmonters had felt Kel's tongue-lashing and their incompetence with weapons keenly, but they could dig as well as anyone. It was heavy, brutal work, but as soon as Kel realised the deepest two feet were taking as much time as the first eight, thanks to a layer of claggy soil, she told them to stop as soon as they hit it.

"Pile spoil on the inner side as well and we'll get nine feet of water. No-one will be wading across."

The decision cheered the diggers and progress accelerated, with spikes going into the completed sections which the basilisks took turns to petrify into razor-edged obsidian. The abatis

began to go in, and after petrifying each spike the basilisks changed spell and honed upper edges until they would slice a hand rested on them, as several people discovered. Neal was hovering around Yuki, due any time, but after the third severe cut marched down to the corral and delivered a blistering lecture that won an admiring audience and ended the problem.

A little more than a week in, with the moat substantially complete and the deeper outlet sough underway, Kel and Geraint were at the smithy watching links being added to the massive drawbridge chains and discussing the portcullis and drums needed to articulate the drawbridge when she was summoned.

"General Vanget wants a word, Lady Kel, soon as you can."

Excusing herself Kel went to do so. Vanget was at his desk, but looked up as the spellmirror chimed and rose to approach it.

"That was quick, Kel. Is the mage there?"

She held up her Midwinter gift. "Master Numair managed to rig it so I can activate the mirror myself."

"Really? He never said that was possible."

"Well, he has been distracted, Vanget—more than usual, I mean. If you had a daughter who kept turning into a bear or owl I daresay you'd be distracted too."

He laughed. "Mithros, yes. But with the shortage of mages it matters that the un-Gifted can operate a mirror—even if it does take … what is that? A black opal?"

"Yes."

"Expensive—but the Crown has plenty, thanks to Dunlath, so it makes smaller mirrors for patrols and the like practicable. I must tell Wyldon to ask him about it." He made a note. "Incidentally, your griffins turned up a couple of days ago and scared everyone witless. I went rushing down, bowed, pointed to the gate, and they nodded, roared something that hurt my ears, and took off again."

Kel grinned. "They're hardly my griffins, Vanget. And I bet no-one can tell lies under that gate any more."

"No they can't. The lads have had fun trying. I'd have liked to give their featherheads something in return though."

Kel grinned again. "Good one. I doubt they want anything—proud creatures. But I'll ask Quenuresh to pass on thanks."

"Please. Now, this commanders' conference at the start of July?" "Wyldon mentioned it. At Mastiff."

"Not any longer. The attack on New Hope was the worst there's been anywhere, and as of two days ago the Scanrans have withdrawn from Frasrlund." Kel whistled. "Indeed. I've no idea what they're up to but something's going on. It's still stalemate at the City of the Gods, and some incursions east, but the western front is quiet. Trouble in Hamrkeng, I think. Maggur's not left it, anyway. So the Lioness is going to Trebond for Midsummer, come what may, and Goldenlake too—says he needs to stretch after being cooped up all winter, and I can't say I blame him. I also discover you and Wyldon are invited—are you going?"

"I'd like to, but the building team's here, for one thing, and I'm loath to go away for ten days or more with the new Tirrsmonters and immortals here. Not to mention Sir Voelden and Rogal."

"Mmm, I heard about that. Bizarre. Rogal is that captain of his?"

"Yes. I trust him far less than Voelden, and while I don't think for a minute he'd get anywhere I do think he might try something in my absence. I didn't know Wyldon was invited to Trebond."

"He is, and minded to go if all stays quiet." Vanget's face went suspiciously bland. "Apparently the Wildmage's father said Wyldon had very sensible opinions about breeding dogs and she took it as a hint."

Kel laughed. "That's splendid. They did talk about dogs. We'll have the Wild Hunt breeding with Cavall's wardogs if we're not careful."

Vanget slapped his thigh. "Mithros, wouldn't that be something? They'd be no escaping one of those, eh? Anyway, I'm relieved you're not going—we can't have every commander between here and Frasrlund taking off at the same time. Greendale will hold the fort at Mastiff, Whiteford at Steadfast, but you'll be senior in the District and I've told them to refer to you in the first place. Call me if necessary."

Kel was speechless for a moment. "Are you sure, Vanget? They're much older than me, and Flyndan was captain of the Second before I was even a squire."

"True. They're good soldiers, but Greendale's only been Wyldon's second since last summer, and though Whiteford's a fine captain you've already more experience as a commander. Between ourselves, I doubt he'll go higher. He knows he hasn't the temperament or vision to succeed Goldenlake, which you might well."

"Oh. And he doesn't mind being under me?"

"No—he was relieved, I think. In any case, as a commander you rank them and I wouldn't go against the book without reason."

"You realise I'm nineteen?"

He laughed. "I didn't, actually, and I appreciate what you must be feeling, but it makes no odds. You're a natural, Kel, Goldenlake trained you specifically as a commander, and since Wyldon thrust you into Haven we've all been scrambling to keep up. Oh yes we have—don't doubt it. Now, with the Lioness, Goldenlake, and Wyldon coming back together from Trebond it makes no sense for you and me to slog over to Mastiff, so I've moved the conference to New Hope. The Lioness won't get there until Midsummer Eve, and wants to stay a day or three, so look for us in the first days of July."

Kel swallowed. "Escorts and staff?"

"Two squads each, and I'll bring half-a-dozen staff. Problem? You must be pretty full by

now."

"We are, especially with the building team here, but we can manage. There's guest rooms, but soldiers and staff will have to use the barracks of the night-duty watch or the caves, as we did in winter."

"That's fine. How's the corral coming? And that tunnel?"

She gave him a report, stressing the assistance of immortals and mentioning Geraint's belief about ramps, bringing a frown of interest.

"That's worth pondering. If you didn't have stone and basilisks would it take more timber than stairs, I wonder. Ask him to calculate that in his report, would you? I'll look forward to reading it."

He bid a cheerful farewell, leaving her to contemplate achieving temporary district command—four major forts, counting New Hope, and twenty regular companies—before turning twenty. It was ridiculous. There was so much she was conscious of not knowing, and another indecent image of learning some of it squirmed into her head. That would not do, and there was a great deal to find out. Sighing, she activated the spellmirror to call Wyldon and with any luck have a chat with Sir Rannac or someone on his staff who could give her a detailed report on everything she'd soon be responsible for.

On the day after the ides district command passed to Kel, anti-climactically, and the tunnellers reached the central chamber. The crack was a little under two feet high and the tunnel was cut entirely into the rock below, leaving the crack's sloping upper surface as its roof; for someone of Kel's height it felt very odd to be passing through solid rock yet have a dark void stretching away on both sides. Small magelights had been installed at intervals but only made spaces darker and Kel found herself flicking glances as if some unimaginable thing might emerge from the blackness. Geraint and Brodhelm were shorter and didn't seem to notice, but Geraint ran a hand along the wall, marvelling at basilisk cutting. The chamber, though, left them speechless as Kel crouched cautiously at the lip of the cut rock, her old fear of heights stirring.

The ceiling was eroded and magelight illuminated an irregular dome stretching to the top of the crack where it continued on the far side. At her feet rock dropped precipitously in curving walls soon lost to sight; there were bumps and hollows but the surface looked smooth and glittered where light struck it, reminding Kel of what Kitten had said about fin rock containing crystals. Amid the darkness were streaks of white and Kel realised an irregular layer sloping through the fin had been exposed.

"Water did this?" Her voice echoed.

"Yes." Geraint was positive. "Nothing else could produce such smooth circular walls. All your caves were made by water and when they flooded it must have come through the crack, found weakness here, and cut the rock like a pothole in a river bed."

"It must have taken centuries." Brodhelm's deep voice boomed.

"Yes, but in bursts, when the system flooded. Snowmelt, probably. Just like with rivers— no erosion you can see most of the year, but come the spring floods and yards of ground can rip away."

"Huh." It struck Kel society could change in the same way, seeming static for decades until some equivalent of a flood—like war—ripped away customs and limits, people and places. "Can you bridge it?"

Geraint blew out a breath. "In theory. In practice I'm not sure how to start. Even for a simple beam we need the passage on the other side to work from, but we can't get there without the bridge. Can I get past you to have a better look, Lady Kel?"

"Of course."

Kel stood and turned sideways as Geraint shuffled forward. For a second they were pressed together, not as tightly as she imagined lovers must be, but she sensed his embarrassment as he was unable to avoid brushing her breasts. Once past her he crouched, staring across the void to the further crack.

"It must be forty feet. That's not a problem—I've done longer—but I've always had two sides to work with. I suppose we have to build something out from just this side, but I'm not at all happy about a cantilever like that. I'll have to think about it."

Kel looked up. "Could you suspend planks from bolts driven into the ceiling? It's only a few feet higher than the top of the crack."

Geraint glanced up. "That's a thought. It'll be dangerous work."

"Mmm. What we need is spidrens."

"Spidrens?"

"One could get across easily. Let's talk to Var'istaan and Petrin."

They walked back and emerged into what had been the spidrens' winter chamber, where basilisk and miner waited. Var'istaan had anticipated the problem and his whisper was amused.

"You are wondering how to create enough tunnel on the other side to build a bridge, but it can be done. Master Geraint, what are the longest planks you have?"

"Um, about thirty feet."

"Not enough. You must fell one of the pine trees and cut strong planks of fifty feet or more —enough to reach right across with at least ten feet still on this side that we can bolt and weight with stone blocks."

"Master Var'istaan, cantilevered planks that long won't be strong enough to bear a being's weight."

"They will after I have petrified them."

"Oh."

Kel had to stop herself laughing at Geraint's expression. "Even so, Var'istaan, you'll have to cross this plank to cut the far wall?"

"That is so, Protector."

"And forgive me, but a basilisk must weigh a fair bit."

"Stone is strong."

"Yes, but I don't want to lose any of you down that hole. I think we should have ceiling supports for those planks—rope or spidren webbing."

"As you wish, Protector. I admit St'aara will be happier."

And that was how it was done, with the help of two of Quenuresh's daughters and three tremendous planks that the farming ogres carried down valley from the tree the building team's sawyers had sliced with a huge two -man saw over a hastily dug pit. It took several days, and they had to widen the tunnel at the edge of the void to give room to work, but once Var'istaan and others were able to reach the far side and begin cutting things speeded up. Geraint had spent the wait experimenting with models, to the fascination of children, and after much fiddling came up with a design Kel instantly adored. It was, he said, a cross between beam and modified cantilever —a single petrified-timber span, as light as basilisks could manage, that extended across the void to a step cut in the far side but had a substantial length on this side cantilevered with denser stone, and could be withdrawn. Instead of installing mageblasts a trough with a thick overhang was cut in the floor, smooth with magic and elbow grease, and a cunning mechanism of pulleys, ropes, and counterweights arranged so a last soldier retreating over the bridge—or a guard on its near side—could simply knock out a pin: counterweights would drop, pulling the span back. To re-extend it the counterweights would have to be raised by hand, after which it could be pushed out again. The final refinement, insisted on by Tobe, was a cloth cover over petrified-wood hoops to block the void for horses; mortal safety and comfort would be helped as well.

It was a superb concept, solving the basic problem and avoiding the difficulty caused if they'd ever had to use the mageblasts. Kel had considered that but dismissed it as an unavoidable consequence of defensive function, and was delighted to be proven wrong. She sent Geraint pink with praise, despite his insistence it was only possible because of petrification and basilisks' ability to vary stone they created, keeping it lighter than one would think such a structure must be.

"You're right, Geraint, and I shall heap praise on the basilisks and spidrens too. But it's also only possible because you've thought about how to work with what they can do. Every time we come up with a new application for our immortals, alone or in combination, people look at me as if I've grown a second head, but I'm left wondering why we weren't thinking about it before. Tkaa's been in Corus for a decade, and while I'm sure he's a wonderful diplomat how you can spend that long with a being capable of working stone like butter and petrifying anything you ask it to, and not think of using that capacity is beyond me. While St'aara and Var'istaan have been wandering round Tortall, not finding anywhere to settle safely or ways of integrating."

He scratched his head. "I suppose so, Lady Kel. I've never thought of it like that. But you're right we've been set in our ways, and after the Immortals War everyone was wary. This war's shaken a lot of things up."

"Even so, Geraint. The Immortals War was against Ozorne and some immortal allies he'd made. Plenty of immortals fought for us as well. Still, what matters is that it's changing. And I must go—the patrol reports from Steadfast and Mastiff are due."

Other things were changing too. Early on Midsummer Eve Yuki went into labour, and whether it was natural or the Green Lady's spiral her travail was shorter than Neal had expected and without complications. Kel was there for delivery, having her hands crushed and wondering if she'd ever return the favour. The child was a girl, as pale-skinned as Neal and with his green eyes but something of Yuki's slant to them and Yamani-black hair; her lungs and willingness to use them seemed more her father's but her squalling was stopped by her mother's breast. Neal had gone from the mixed anxiety and efficiency of the last twelve hours to bemused wonder, sitting with one arm round Yuki and the other reaching a tentative finger to stroke the baby's head. Kel left them to it but closing the door found Irnai solemnly looking up at her.

"Were you watching, Irnai? Wasn't it amazing?" "All births are. The god told me all would be well."

"Good. Did she say anything else?"

"She is being offered more wintersweet. The priestess must have told many people."

They emerged into the evening light. "I expect she did. We should put some on her shrine here. I don't think I've seen any growing in the valley, though. You could ask Adner if he knows of any."

"I will do that."

"Have you eaten? Nor me. Let's go get food and tell everyone New Hope has a new resident."

The news was well received and when Neal and Yuki came with the babe to the Midsummer ceremony next morning there was interested affection. Everyone knew Yuki could have gone to Corus for her pregnancy—had been expected to go—and appreciated her staying. With so much to be done Kel kept the ceremony brief, though her prayers to Mithros and the Goddess were heartfelt, and she added thanks for the births of Daine's and Yuki's babies. She left Neal to relay word to his father by spellmirror and went to supervise the corral while Geraint was dealing with the bridge.

Later that day a courier with impeccable timing delivered a mailbag that included, with a bundle of letters for Kel, missives from the King. One, in his own hand, thanked her for her letter about the Tirrsmont refugees, observing it had given Thayet a deal of amusement and promising to do better in future. The other, over his signature, was the charter of the Craftsbeings' Guild, which Kel read out at dinner.

"It's an important day, people. The war's still on, and you know my gut as well as my head tell me we're going to face a real fight here before it's done. But this is looking to the future, to New Hope not as a refugee camp or fort, but as a town. Many of you have homes you'd like to get back to. Some don't. And if you think you'd like to stay, with the craftsbeings who've indicated that's what they want, it's time to say so. The clerks will keep a list. If you've questions about the guild and how it's going to work, talk to Master Valestone."

Idrius stood. "You all know where to find me. But I've a question, if I may, Lady Kel." She nodded and he cleared his throat as silence deepened. "We'll become a fief. It's Tortall's way. I know whose fief it ought to be and I've heard it might be. Can you tell us anything."

Kel felt herself flush. "I cannot say for certain, Master Valestone, but the vote of the King's Council was that no decision will be made until the war is over, and that when it is considered, if I make a claim, it will be considered first."

"And will you make a claim, my Lady?"

There was no avoiding it and her stomach churned. "I may not be alive to do so, Master Valestone—this war's already killed me once, remember—but if I am and it's truly what people want—I will."

Any reply Idrius made was drowned and Kel sat with her flush deepening. She was relieved her friends seemed as pleased as everyone but wondered at it, trying to imagine how she'd feel under Merric's or Neal's command if they were in line for such elevation. The notion of herself as a baroness seemed ludicrous though she knew she was a military commander in a way none of them were save Dom, and that he couldn't have done what she had with New Hope. She endured their satisfaction, but did manage for once to slip away to claim an early night and read a

letter from her parents with news that Demadria had a son and all was well with her new nephew.

She was up before dawn and after glaive practice and breakfasting went to the corral with squads from the building team. With the moat completed most labour had been returned to Adner, but about a hundred people came to help dig the outlet sough and plaster mud onto the last part of the wall and completed sections of alure and ramps, or provide muscle for teams working on buildings. The availability of cut stone had allowed walls to rise astonishingly rapidly; the stable built for Peachblossom had been reused. The masons had set dark fin blocks as lowest and highest courses, framing doors, windows, and each step of the stable wall, and it looked fine.

In mid-morning she reluctantly headed to her office and endless paperwork, swollen by district reports sent by Sir Rannac but including the bundle of Corus correspondence. One thick roll turned out to be accounts from the Protector's Maids, and Kel sat stunned as she took in the figures. All were doing well, some spectacularly; Lalasa had advanced money to a further five women and sent agreements for signature. A letter had news of the self-defence classes, swollen by female servants from the Palace, and announced she'd accepted Tomas, asking whether Kel would be coming to Corus for Midwinter; if so they'd hold the ceremony then, if not, they'd wait. Kel was delighted and said as much in an immediate reply but hesitated over the commitment: Neal, Merric, Brodhelm, and Mikal all had claims for leave, as did Uinse, and she'd have to get them some before winter set in, but she knew she'd be expected at the King's Council and if Diamondflame did return to see Kitten there were questions she wanted to ask, so she added that she would be in Corus and planning should start. A postscript reminded Lalasa to invite Thayet and Shinko. Her mood was soured by the discovery of three more proposals from strangers among her other letters, one sufficiently indecent to deserve no response, and she took herself off to see how chains and portcullis were coming.

Her introspection wasn't helped by the greater weight of command, though all was quiet, or her imminent birthday. She hadn't really celebrated it since her days in Yaman, but Neal had usually remembered in her page and squire years. In the wake of Rathhausak she'd barely remembered herself, but felt that twenty, if shy of majority, ought to be marked. She was quiet at dinner, her mind cast back along the path that had brought her to New Hope, and found sleep hard to come by, but dreamless when it claimed her. Rising before dawn and considering her scars in her mirror she decided it was just another day, but was pre-empted by finding Tobe in her outer room, hair tousled but dressed, scratching Jump.

"Happy birthday, Ma."

She hugged him with swirling emotions, and scratched Jump herself. "Thank you, Tobe. How did you know?"

"Captain Dom told me."

"Did he? That was nice of him. Do other people know?"

"I didn't think you'd want that."

"You're right." The thought struck like an arrow. "You've never told me when your birthday is."

"I dunno—spring sometime, but auld Eula didn't remember."

"Then you must choose a day. When would you like?"

He scrunched up his face. "What day was it you found me?"

"Um … March seventeenth." The day of Freja's funeral.

"Then that day."

Moved, she hugged him again. "Deal. I'm sorry I missed it this year. I owe you a present."

"You don't owe me nothing." He frowned. "And ain't that you all over, Ma? It's your birthday and we're talking about mine. I owe you a present and a lot more, but I couldn't think what to give until Captain Dom helped. And St'aara. It's down at the corral."

"Alright. We'll need an escort. Standing orders are for me, too."

They saddled Alder and Hoshi, and with Peachblossom tagging along, mane heavy with sparrows, collected half-a-dozen of the duty squad at the gatehouse. Dawn gave enough light for the tauros skulls not to leer out of gloom, the sky was clear, earth and young crops fragrant with dew. At the corral she asked the soldiers to wait, and followed Tobe through the piled blocks of the rising gatehouse. He pointed to the stables, and she came to a stunned halt.

In the centre of the first and longest step of the wall a black Mindelan owl looked out at her with golden eyes from a blue field above crossed cream glaives, all within her creamy grey distaff and golden ducal borders. She had to go right up to it before she realised it was petrified wood basilisk-bonded to the stone, and the colours were not paint; in sunlight it would look even more spectacular. Tobe came up beside her.

"Is it alright, Ma? Captain Dom said about the flag he and poor Corporal Fulcher made for you, but there isn't a flagpole here."

A noise had her head swinging round but it was only Peachblossom negotiating the gatehouse, followed by Alder and Hoshi. Nari flew to her shoulder, peeping, others circling excitedly.

"It's wonderful, Tobe. You made it?"

"We all did. I cut out the owl and its eyes and the glaives, but Turner Farrel did the circles for me. I commissioned him, so I need to get a coin out of that purse from the King. He knows why I couldn't ask you before, but he said he'd keep it to himself. And St'aara petrified it, of course, and put it up."

"You all did wonderful jobs. Thank you."

Peachblossom snorted satisfaction and Tobe grinned. "He approves. So do Hoshi and Alder. He carried it down for me. What is it?"

Her eyes were wet. "It's just emotion leaking, Tobe. Lots of emotions, not hurt. Since we met my life's changed as much as yours. I'm just twenty, the future's so uncertain, and part of me thinks I shouldn't be alive. Gods know I'm glad to be, but what happened wasn't right."

His old man came to his eyes. "You're worried about that timeway."

"That as well. And Maggur in Hamrkeng, and where Sir Guisant's hiding, but … remember when we met you couldn't quite believe it for a while? I think that's how I feel about everything this morning. The only cure's a hug."

She was back in control by the time she found St'aara and Dom to thank them, but dismayed by his reserve when she dared touch his arm.

"It seemed right, Kel. You're already the Lady of New Hope."

She didn't deny it but commanding Dom was odder than commanding yearmates, and the idea of him as a cool liegeman twisted her heart. In a way her fantasies hadn't encompassed, his injury put a greater barrier between them than her own, but his restored kindness to Tobe and care to remember the day renewed desire, though she knew it unreturned. It was a relief when Duke Baird arrived in early afternoon, outpacing his escort up the roadway in haste to see his granddaughter. At dinner his besotted praise touched and amused everyone, but when a full-blown healer's discussion of Cloestra's egg-laying threatened Kel left them to it and went to greet the stormwing before going to the shrines to offer prayers to the Black God and Goddess for her life. On impulse she made a bow to Lord Sakuyo, and after a second stuck out her tongue. To her surprise she felt a gust of amusement and that calm that had come to her at the wedding, and slowly headed back to Cloestra.

"Do you know anything about the trickster gods?"

Steel glinted in moonlight. "Enough to steer clear. Which ones?"

"Lord Sakuyo." She thought of George. "And the Crooked God."

"My dam said Sakuyo was alright but I've never met him. Kyprioth's trouble. Sometimes the fun kind, sometimes not. He's a nasty temper and from what Barzha says he's been quiet lately, so he's probably up to something. But I doubt it's here. Things are moving in the Copper Isles and if he's not stirring I'll be surprised. Why do you ask, Protector?"

"It occurred to me my life is one enormous practical joke. It's my birthday, you see. I bowed to Lord Sakuyo then stuck out my tongue and I think he laughed, but I also felt calmer."

Cloestra bated, steel scritching. "You grow in wisdom as well as years. How old are

you?"

"Twenty."

"Now that's a joke." She grinned. "I am in my twenty-third century, and cannot remember the beginning of my first." The grin changed. "And it might be Sakuyo's kind of joke. He likes younglings, by all accounts. Kyprioth and the Hag, too. She picked the Godborn younger than you to set those dinosaurs dancing in Ozorne's palace."

"Were you there?"

"Oh yes. Shall I tell you the story?"

It was, Kel decided, her second present of the day—a very different account than any she'd heard from Daine or Numair, filled with interesting detail. It left her feeling mellower about the Hag's sense of humour; she'd always liked Bonedancer, but hyenas now seemed more reasonable, and the warnings given Ozorne—galloping statue and cake of rats—as well as a dinosaur riot put what had happened to her in new perspective. Thanking Cloestra she made her way to bed, stroking Jump when she tucked Tobe in, and fell into the vivid dream of running with Yuki and the blossoms, breathlessly happy but filled with an erotic sense of a man she could never see watching her, and beneath both sensations that welling calm. Her memories faded as she woke, but she did find herself oddly certain that whatever joke Sakuyo might be playing it wasn't on her; through her, perhaps—she might even be the joke, or one of its bearers—but she should be the one laughing, as the god did. It was better than fretting.

Baird intended to stay for the conference and work with Neal on some delicate problems

—weak hearts and lungs that needed two Gifts working together to heal—so he was there two days later when the look-outs blew alarm for a large body of Scanrans coming south. Kel and Brodhelm were in the fields below the glacis, Alder in barding, and with that much warning it was possible to get people back into New Hope safely, including those working beyond the fin. By the time the first Scanrans came into view from the ground only herders and animals had yet to cross the moatbridge, and to get to them the Scanrans would have to come through seven mounted squads, arrayed in double line with five squads of archers behind them, the best Kel had, all with six-foot self bows and three griffin-fletched broadheads as well as full quivers.

The Scanrans paused as they saw the waiting cavalry but either there was an officer among them or they were only waiting for their fellows, for as numbers swelled they came forward, walking then trotting. They had a mile or more to come, and before the leaders had covered half that the flow of new riders at the back thinned and stopped. There were about two hundred all told, Kel reckoned, and made her decision. She counted down the distance aloud; at three hundred yards her cavalry moved aside, and at two-hundred-and-fifty yards the first flights of ordinary arrows were in the air, more following as fast as the archers could nock and draw. The front of the charge faltered at its sides as horses fell, and the riders behind had to check and weave. Losing momentum they became more bunched, forced together by falling horses on the flanks, and at one hundred yards the pattern of fire changed, each archer taking targets directly in front of him and using griffin-fletched needleheads. For all the drills some Scanrans were hit twice but it didn't matter: the effect was devastating. Leather and chainmail could not stop an accurate needlehead at this range, and with griffin fletching it was no longer horses falling but men being punched clean from the saddle, by the dozen and score. Riderless horses broke right and left, passing through the gaps Kel left as her cavalry spurred forward to smash from both sides into the rearmost riders, blind until the last moment to the slaughter that had happened in front of them and the pincer attack they faced.

It was brutal, ugly, and fast. They took injuries, some serious, but no deaths, and to Kel's complete surprise the last score of Scanrans surrendered, throwing down weapons and dismounting, hands wide. She was more used to Scanran injured asking for the mercy stroke than prisoners, and what to do with them was an instant headache. Sir Myles would want information, and the cell would not hold half their number. When she found herself wondering if a section of corral moat might serve as a prison she shook her head, asked Brodhelm to summon healers to the field, and called out in Scanran, asking who would speak for them. After some glances a thickset man with a forked beard took a cautious step forward.

"I am not an officer but I was once a sergeant."

"And you are?"

"Stanar Petarsson, Clan Somalkt."

She remembered news of Maggur's assault on Somalkt, which had resisted his rule. "I am Keladry of Mindelan, commanding here. Why are you no longer a sergeant?"

"Because that was in another army."

"Fair enough. And what do you expect, surrendering?"

He shrugged. "To live? We are forced to fight. Our chiefs command it because Maggur holds their children. We were not rearmost for nothing, and we have heard you killed the Kinslayer and the nicor mage and burned Rathhausak. You took in Freja Haraldsdottir's son after you killed her when she tried to kill you, and let others go, warning of the Black God's wrath. Perhaps we are cowards. Or perhaps we are sensible."

"You're a problem. We're a refugee camp not a prison, and there haven't been a lot of prisoners taken in this war."

"No." He shrugged again. "But we have heard you do new things."

"I do." Deep breath. "Will you—all of you—swear gods' oaths you will neither try to escape, nor bear any weapon against Tortall, nor harm any at New Hope while you are here? If you will, you can stay in a barn, eat with us, and have freedom to exercise, until I find out what my superiors want to do with you. If you won't, I'll have to confine or shackle you as best we can. You'll have food and healers but no liberty."

There were murmurs but Stanar shrugged again. "I cannot fight against my chief but I can swear all of that. It is better than being dead and you rescue children, not hold them hostage."

A thinner man spoke. "You will trust us?"

"Not yet—that's why I said a gods' oath. If you break it you'll die. Now, if you would swear, cast down all weapons and do so."

A scatter of daggers joined the axes, swords, and spears on the earth, and after Kel gave Stanar the wording she required they swore one by one to the chimes. It seemed to take forever, and she could hear healers arriving and setting to work, but it was done at last.

"Right. Help round up all your horses." She looked round. "They can go in the corral for now, Brodhelm."

"Very good, my Lady. Sir Nealan needs to speak to you."

His stiff manner set off alarms in Kel's mind that doubled as she saw Neal's pale face and tears. She swung herself down from Alder's back and went to him, hands reaching for his.

"Neal, what is it?"

His voice was flat. "Merric's dead."

Her brain became ice as her gut clenched in denial. "How?"

"Rogal pushed him and he fell from the alure. His neck was broken. There was nothing father or I could do."


	18. Chapter 16

Judgement

Chapter Sixteen — Judgement

29–30 June

Kel knew Merric's parents would probably want his body returned to Hollyrose but it would take days to contact them, it was high summer, and New Hope did not have sufficient salt or spirits, so with Vanget's sad acquiescence she ordered burial at Haven. The coffin was petrified; on Baird's advice herbs and insect banes were added, and he and Neal infused what magic they could. Kel had Merric's armour removed but left him sword on breast, skin washed clean of sweat and dust and hair brushed. In death his face was stark and his red hair dull, but freckles stood out across his cheeks and nose. There was no rage or terror in his expression, only a sense of puzzlement she distantly thought was her own, the one emotion escaping the lock on her rage, grief, and guilt.

The second funeral in six weeks was unlike the first, not only in the contrast of sixteen coffins and one. Deaths in action were in some sense fair, even when civilians died; they shocked and hurt, but didn't surprise. This was a death within, in but not of war, and the man responsible not a dead or departed enemy but prisoner in New Hope; beneath sorrow everyone felt an ugly fury Kel knew she had to address. With the building team and every soldier attending save yesterday's seriously injured and a skeleton watch, more than a thousand people accompanied Merric to premature rest. The ranks of immortals attending were also swollen, spidrens coming to join the procession at the foot of the Haven roadway and the Stone Tree Nation circling overhead. Once they understood what was happening the prisoners asked to attend in respect, and Kel agreed, allowing no objections; they walked in a group, heads bared and eyes veiled save to cast wondering glances at stormwings or spidrens. Kel walked in front of the cart carrying the coffin, drawn by Alder and Hoshi; Peachblossom walked beside her with Merric's warhorse and an honour guard.

Remembrances took more than two hours. Neal, Seaver, and Prosper described the page who'd helped fight Joren's bullies and hill bandits, his injury in that skirmish and fierce defence of Kel against Lord Wyldon's mistaken criticism; the squire who'd been a good friend on the road to adulthood. Baird recalled a boy he'd treated and spoke of the family he knew, Merric's parents' and siblings' pride in him, the wonder they'd feel at the way he was being honoured. But most speakers came from the Haven rescuees, whom Merric had led back to Tortall, and men of Brodhelm's Eighth with whom he'd worked closely. They recalled courage and determination, good humour and bad jokes, a word of help given or received, unruly hair, temper when roused and ready kindness; a young knight of achievement and promise, stern and careful on patrol, relaxed and approachable within New Hope. Brodhelm spoke bluntly of admiration for a man thrust too soon into war who made a mistake in good faith, and faced it painfully, determined to learn better; willing to serve when he might have hoped to command. Mikal remembered slingwork and helmet mesh. Uinse and Jacut told the story of their Sakuyo's Day jest and Merric's laughing chagrin when he realised he'd been fooled. Jump, sitting at the foot of the coffin, raised himself once to howl, long and loud, and as the sound faded lay again, tail still; Merric had always had time to tug an ear, and strips of jerky. The sparrows were silent throughout, as were horses, clustered immortals, and stormwings perched around the knoll. When all were done a drained Kel felt she'd been left nothing to say and looked at Barzha, but the stormwing shook her head.

"When Merric came with us into Scanra he was so badly injured he had to be strapped to his horse for the first days. He never complained. I shall miss him so badly." She tried to frame

thoughts chasing in her mind. "It's strange. I can't honestly say he's the first of our year of knights to die, because of that stupid way I died myself. But it's true anyway and we won't ever be the same again. And his death seems to have been needless, a moment of rage or stupidity not his own. Tomorrow we will find out exactly what happened and decide what has to be done. Today we lay him to rest, with love and sorrow."

The stone coffin was too heavy for mortal hands and the ogres who had carried it from cart to graveside lowered it into the plot, twenty-eighth in the row stretching away from the mass grave.

"Thank you all." She opened her arms wide to the blue sky. "He died in our service and I pray he shall find his death his grace, and the Black God's mercy infinite. So mote it be."

The chimes were immediate, the soughing wind louder than ever and winter cold; in its wake Kel felt a sense of benediction that soothed guilt and rage, if not loss. Looking round she saw others felt something too and raised her voice briefly to give thanks to the god for his care of their hearts as well as Merric's soul. Then it was the long, silent return, groups peeling away to their work until the children and a diminished train of adults surrounding the prisoners followed the empty cart up the roadway. Kel went directly to the shrines accompanied only by Jump, to kneel before the Black God's, not praying but trying again to encompass her return from death and Merric's one-way trip; then before the next shrine, Lord Mithros's, where she did pray, for the strength to deal with Rogal fairly in way of justice, not revenge. The stern face was impassive and Kel felt nothing, but whether that meant Merric's death bore on the timeway sufficiently to forbid divine interference or was unimportant in the gods' scheme she couldn't guess. Giving up she rose stiffly, and found Baird waiting for her, sitting on the steps to the terrace.

"Your Grace?"

"Just Baird, please, Keladry. I don't feel I have any grace today—that's yours and the Black God's." She sat beside him and Jump lay against her feet, panting slightly in the late afternoon heat. "I wanted to say how astonishing and moving that ceremony was. This will sound odd but I've been to a lot of funerals and that was very fine. Sooner or later it will be my task, I fear, to try to convey something of it to his parents." His face was drawn. "Losing a grown child is bitterly hard."

"So I have seen. It consumes Lord Burchard."

"That is because Joren died so badly, I think. An honourable death is comfort, sometimes, but a dishonourable one a torment always."

"And which was this?" Baird blinked.

"Not dishonourable, certainly, but … ambiguous. Not at enemy hands and drawing punishment in its wake." He took a breath. "What will you do with Rogal, Keladry? Lord Wyldon told me Sir Voelden and he had claimed protection and I was surprised, but I had not thought through the complications. There are legal difficulties here."

"Rogal swore an oath when he entered New Hope to obey all standing and direct orders, and on the alure he was under Merric's command. The oath was witnessed." Her voice was unyielding. "Quenuresh is asking the griffins to come tomorrow. None can lie in their presence and we will have the truth, from all who witnessed it and Rogal's own lips. What I do will depend on what I learn."

"And if he did push Merric deliberately?"

"He was under army jurisdiction and knew it. He was in action, under orders. If there is evidence he slew his superior, in malice or by accident proceeding from wilful disobedience, I will commit him to court martial on capital charges. In a military area in time of war army rules apply, not statute law or noble custom, but as it is possible to do so without endangering my command I will delay that court martial until the commanders arrive and there are officers available for the panel who come to it fresh. Vanget endorsed this course last night."

Baird looked relieved. "Very good, Keladry. I should not have doubted you but I was concerned by the anger at Rogal. I still am—you face an ugly job." He sighed. "We ask so much of our children, so young, with our wars. At your age I could not have done what you are doing. I doubt I could do it now."

She gave him a faint smile. "I turned twenty six days ago." "Twenty! Mithros. You did not seem nineteen at Midwinter."

"I don't expect I did. I no longer know how many men I've killed, and I'm on my second life. I'd say remind me what young means, but Cloestra already did—she has a century and more for each of my years."

He shook his head. "Immortals must see the world very differently. And your second life, yes." He hesitated but went on. "Alanna told me a little when I asked. Forgive me—I had a vulgar curiosity you must loathe, but she left me feeling humble. I still do. To meet the Black God so, and be sent back …"

Kel's eyes were unfocused. "I saw his face when he forgave me the deaths I cause. It's a quandary. If Rogal is sentenced to death here I'll have to execute him myself—we have no headsman and I'll order no man to do what I won't—but if I send his soul to the Black God his death will become his grace. I don't think I can bear it."

Tears were leaking silently from her and Baird, startled almost witless by what she'd said, had the grace of his title, holding her until the fit passed. He noticed people looking away after one glance, granting them what privacy they could. After a few moments Kel pushed herself upright, for once using a handkerchief for herself.

"I'm sorry."

"Please don't be, Keladry. I suspect you need to do that more often, and I'm glad I was here. But I don't think I can advise you in your quandary." He grasped at the simplest part. "Is there really no-one else who could do it, if it has to be done?"

"No—even Vanget doesn't have a headsman on staff." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'll get over it. It's just another of the gods' jokes. They're full of them, these days."

His eyebrows rose but he let it pass, half-afraid of what she might know, and broached the other topic on his mind. "I wanted to thank you on my nephew's behalf, for your idea of using that Carthaki metal, and taking him in. Lightweight braces will help many and I've made sure army healers know of them—we should have thought of it ourselves. But being here has given Domitan back self-respect. His brother's a good man, but not … imaginative. Domitan didn't fit at Masbolle any more."

"I only gave him work he could do. All else he won back for himself."

"That's not what he says. Nor Nealan and Yukimi." Kel made no reply, not trusting herself, and he looked at her sidelong. "Well, you've always been modest but your kindness is

greatly appreciated, though I suspect he hasn't brought himself to tell you so."

Her heart hurt. "Kindness? No, it wasn't that, Baird. Never that." She eased Jump from her feet. "Would you observe proceedings tomorrow, please, and speak at will? You're the senior noble and the only person here not under my authority."

"Of course."

"Thank you. I must write to Merric's parents, if you'll excuse me."

He looked after her with a curious expression but she didn't look back, walking purposefully with Jump at her side until she entered the headquarters building. What had she meant about kindness? When she'd come to Corus as a page she'd been an enigma—stoic to an extraordinary degree, unassuming, a catalyst of rapid change in ways of which she didn't seem remotely aware. Over time he thought he'd understood her better, learning of her childhood in Yaman and seeing her parents in her. He'd admired her resilience in the face of unrelenting hostility from so many bigots, and heard startling accounts of her demeanour to the King after the farce of Joren's trial—accounts he'd remembered after her spellbinding displays of controlled rage when those fools Torhelm and Tirrsmont had uttered their obscenities. And he knew he'd never forget the sight and sound of her asking three gods to strike Torhelm down for the foulest insults he'd ever heard; even Alanna had been shaken by that, and trying to explain how she thought Kel felt about gods, and what the insistent sexuality of Torhelm's language would have meant to her, she'd given him a healer-to-healer account of what the girl had been through, leaving him appalled and wondering. Now he felt again he had no understanding of her at all—so quick to unstinting kindness, so reluctant to acknowledge it or any of her virtues, so strong and formidable yet so bereft and alone. So enraged she barely knew it, and so controlled even when she couldn't stop tears. And so young, less than a third his age, yet there were moments talking to her when he felt less wise and experienced than he knew himself, less knowledgeable of anything that mattered outside the realm of healing. But what could you expect of one who had seen the Black God's face? That had not been in any account he'd heard, and he wondered if the King knew, or ought to know, she had been forgiven the deaths she caused. Probably not, but he might talk to Alanna. He rose sighing, and walked to the shrines, offering a prayer for Keladry's survival and happiness he suspected was superfluous, and went to find his beautiful granddaughter.

Kel had withdrawn to her rooms after a subdued dinner to comfort a grieving Tobe and let him comfort her, and was talking him through what she expected to happen on the morrow when she heard a newly familiar halting step outside her door. Tobe let Dom in and she made green tea, enjoying the calming ritual and her beautiful Yamani ware but wondering what he wanted. He took the tea gratefully.

"Thank you. I didn't use to like this stuff but Yuki's converted me as well as Neal." He didn't use the nickname Meathead any more; Kel suspected he had reserved it to himself, punishment for suffering injury. "And the ceremony for making it is very … I don't know, civilised. Polite. It calms things down." He half-smiled. "Even Neal."

"His daughter might manage that, if she doesn't have the opposite effect. Have they decided on a name?"

"No—they want one that's Tortallan and Yamani but can't find one they both like."

"Like Nealimi or Yukeal, you mean?"

"That sort of thing. He's not thinking about it now though."

"No. How is he, Dom?" Neal and Merric had been close and she knew his grief would be keener than her own, and without the guilt.

"Not so good, but he'll be alright. It's shock. I've seen it before when someone's killed in an accident—it's different from a battledeath."

"Yes. Is he angry yet?"

"Beginning to be."

"With me?"

"Mithros, no. Why should he be, Kel?"

"I let Rogal in and trusted his oath. I should have known better. I did, if I'm honest."

Tobe was stirred to protest. "But you had to let him in, Ma—you said it at the time."

"I knew he was trouble and he's cost Merric his life."

"It's not your fault, Kel."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. Was the Master of the Lists who admitted Sir Voelden responsible for him trying to run you through?"

"I don't think it's the same, Dom. But it doesn't matter. There's nothing anyone can do

now."

"It does matter, Kel. You mustn't blame yourself." "Easier said than done, Dom, as I imagine you've found." He flushed. "Yes. But I was careless. I don't think you were."

"And you cost yourself a wound. I cost another his life. But that's a price of command, Dom, isn't it? When I make mistakes, others pay. All I can do is make sure I pay too, and try not to repeat them." Her curiosity stirred. "Did you come to argue guilt?"

He surprised her. "Maybe. Uncle Baird said you told him if Rogal is sentenced to death you believe you have to do it yourself."

"Commander's Regulations. Section B, Wartime, 119. If any official post shall be vacant when incumbency is required, a commander shall appoint themselves or whoever better fitted they may select. All such appointments shall terminate with their command. If Rogal's found guilty here it's our job to execute him, and we have no headsman."

"But it doesn't have to be you, Kel."

"Should I ask for volunteers? Think that through, Dom, bearing in mind how people feel —especially some Tirrsmonters."

"One of the soldiers, then."

"So I order someone else to do what I'm reluctant to do myself? What would my Lord have to say about that?"

"He didn't mean that about a situation like this."

"Didn't he? Well, I'll have the chance to ask him if I'm faced with the decision. But as far as I can see it's me or sending for a crown headsman—Frasrlund, the haMinchi seat, or Corus are nearest—and that'd take weeks, with Rogal in a condemned cell the while. I don't want that.

Morale aside, I'd have to pull a squad for guard duty, which we can't afford. If it's going to happen it'll need to happen fast."

"What about the immortals, Ma? You could ask Var'istaan to turn Rogal into stone and put him on the roadway, like those skulls."

She almost snorted laughter but her son was serious, eyes wide and troubled. She rested a hand on his shoulder. "That's a thought, Tobe, but I don't want our basilisks killing anyone. People are scared of them too easily already. Same for ogres and spidrens. It's a mortal problem, and mortals have to face it."

"And he'd be a really ugly statue, Tobe."

"I suppose." He gave Dom a weak grin. "It's just so unfair on Ma."

"Not really, Tobe." She shifted her arm to hug him. "It's command. And if I can't take a joke, I shouldn't have joined." Even if the joke was one only gods could have devised and pierced to the core of punishment and forgiveness both for her and Rogal. The more she considered it the louder she heard Sakuyo laugh. "Don't worry about it—we'll cope. And it's bedtime— tomorrow'll be a long day."

He didn't protest but made goodnights, leaning in to kiss her cheek and Dom's, and collecting Jump. As she closed the door behind him Dom let his grin show, warming her heart.

"Petrify Rogal and stick him on the roadway? That's a good one. I dread to think what his nickname would be." He shook his head wonderingly. "Tobe's a good lad, Kel. You did a fine thing adopting him—it's given him pride in himself."

"Yes, he's a great comfort to me. I think the gods put him in my path but we've found something together. War's hardest on children, I believe. Your uncle seemed to think so."

"He said." His look was very strange. "And he reminded me … not that I should need it

… I haven't thanked you for giving me back some pride. No, let me finish. Everyone else saw my wound and stopped. I did myself. I can't do that anymore, so I can't do anything. You saw me whole and what I could still do. And you were so practical—the brace and ramps. I didn't think I could ever do real work again, or be content. So thank you, Kel. You're an astonishing person, and I'm very grateful."

She didn't trust herself to speak for a moment. "You're welcome, Dom, but you don't need to thank me. Your work does that every day. Having you at the corral lifts a burden from me. And it's a boon to see you in better spirits, so I'm doubly repaid for common sense."

"Very uncommon sense, actually."

Slowly the silence matured from mutual embarrassment to a greater ease; almost their old camaraderie, but the diminishment of wounds lay between them, and Kel's suppression of spiking

desire left her with a singing, hollow feeling. She wanted to be comforted as much as anything more intimate, to be held by him as his uncle had held her, demanding nothing. She saw he was frowning.

"Uncle Baird also muttered something I didn't understand, about a divine joke. Can you explain?"

"I could, Dom, but I'm not sure I want to."

"Oh. Of course. I'm so—"

"No, don't be. There's no need. It's just rather private. And I think of lots of things as divine jokes these days, you know. Once you meet a god … well, none of them have been remotely what I expected. In a funny way I've come to think they're like soldiers in the field—the worse things are the louder they laugh. Or maybe it's just how they pass time."

He surprised her again. "I asked Cloestra about this timeway thing and spiralling. Maybe it's that—if time's echoing itself somehow it could seem like a joke." He held his hands inches apart. "Like a pun—things sounding alike that aren't."

"Huh. There's a thought. So the joke's on everyone, even gods? Mmm. It takes malice out. I like that. Who told you about the timeway?"

"Neal. I was trying to catch up with everything that's happened here, and to you. He said not to blab and I haven't."

"It's not exactly secret, Dom—immortals talk about it, as you've discovered—but it's hard to explain and if you do it's just another worry people can't do anything about. So quiet seems best. But it's a big part of what has caught the gods' attention, and some immortals'—Quenuresh, certainly, and Diamondflame—so I have to try to think about it."

He shook his head. "I can't grasp it, Kel, and don't know how you do. That business with the Chamber was weird enough. This is beyond me."

"Tell me, Dom. Prosper said it—I was always the least god-touched person. That was Alanna's role, and why they kept her away from me all those years. It's the thing I find hardest to forgive Wyldon, you know, and the King. But now I'm thick with gods, struggling with a prophecy and some divine crisis that goes back to the Godwars. It's another of those jokes, you know. All I'm trying to do is guess the punchline."

"But that's what I mean, Kel. No mortal can see it. Cloestra said being two thousand years old didn't help—only the oldest immortals and gods understand. But you know that and take it on anyway and cope with it—doing the best you can. Cloestra was very admiring of your treaty with Barzha, not just for itself and healers' aid—I still can't quite believe that—but as strategy. I hadn't understood that at all."

"She told you about the prophecy?"

"Yes. Quite a lot of people know, Kel, but they understand why you don't talk about it so they don't either. But they see, as I did, that you're fighting for them in every way, not just physical defence. It's why you let Sir Voelden and Rogal in, isn't it? You didn't know what part they might have to play and tried to do what you do with everyone—recruit them so their strength is added to winning and surviving."

No -one else had seen it so clearly. "Yes, partly. I wasn't really thinking about Rogal. It was just to have Voelden, of all people, supplicating my protection … with that much irony it

seemed significant, and if I'd sent him away who knows what he'd being doing? Rogal came attached, and Emerint."

"Well, you have recruited Emerint—he's very angry with Rogal, by the way. Says this is a good billet and Rogal shouldn't have done anything to mess it up. You might reassure him you don't hold him to blame."

"Thanks, Dom. I'll do that."

"And I think you've recruited Sir Voelden as well. He's not the man I saw at Tirrsmont or on Progress. Quieter, more careful when he does speak. Works hard, too. Merric didn't have any complaints about him."

"We came to an understanding. He hates my guts but he … no, that's not mine to say. We dealt with what happened. He agrees defending New Hope trumps all, and recognises me as commander. He's been humbled, and I don't think he's much of a person, but he's not honourless and he's trying. I don't want whatever happens with Rogal to set him back—they've had very little contact since they've been here that I've seen."

"They didn't eat together, and I think one reason he was keen to patrol was to get away from Rogal."

"Mmm. It also spares him saying much, and he's happy with silence just now. That may change. The patrol sergeants say he's competent to lead a patrol. We'll see." He nodded and she made a decision. "One thing, Dom—you should shift out of that guestroom and take Merric's rooms—they can't stand empty, you're the obvious person, and with the commanders' conference we'll need the guestroom."

He didn't like it but nodded. "Will you change command structure?"

"No. We'll miss Merric cruelly but on paper he was supernumerary, though I used the same pattern for Seaver and Prosper with the other companies. I'm not putting Voelden in Merric's shoes, and I don't want to move others. By rights Verrec should have been patrol captain as Brodhelm's second and he's been sharing it with Merric for a year. He takes over solo, and Merric's seat on the Council."

"Fair enough. Patrolling's reduced anyway."

"Yes, but if there are weeks when we can reduce field labour before harvesting starts I'll restrict people inside and beef up patrols. There are too many places we haven't looked in too long, Dom, and with Daine's network so limited … I must ask stormwings and griffins if they'll fly sweeps." Her fist clenched. "It doesn't make sense. Maggur's missing a trick being idle just now. If he was hitting us hard we'd be in trouble."

"He's got troubles of his own, from what I hear."

"Maybe. Thank Mithros, whatever it is. But we're blind, all the same. So, patrols. And with luck some information from Stanar Petarsson and his friends as well. How are people feeling about them?"

"Better than you'd think. They're quite sympathetic. Zerhalm and Irnai explained how the hostages thing works with clanchiefs. Some are soldiers by trade, like Stanar, but most are conscripted farmers and craftsmen, so they're victims too. And Rogal's taking the fury about Merric. There's your stunning victory too, Kel. It hasn't gone unnoticed though no-one's saying anything. I think they're shocked—I was."

"It was a slaughter, Dom. And if we ever face a siege that's what we'll have to do tenfold or more. I dread it. And a besieging force won't be so obligingly foolhardy. What was their commander thinking?"

"That you were in full retreat and had less than half his number of cavalry with some ground troops who wouldn't be better archers than most and might be worse. You suckered him and the drills paid off the way they're supposed to. You also expended a hundred-and-fifty griffin arrows at less than a hundred yards and every one found a mark. We've got more than eighty of them back, by the way."

"That's quick. Gods, what a job. Who did it?"

"Stormwings. They piled the Scanran dead at sunset and all the unbroken arrows and fletched ends were bundled to one side." His smile was crooked. "One use for razor-edged wings, I suppose. Uinse sent a squad to get them and fire the corpses."

"I must thank Barzha. Huh. I wonder if they get what they need just from stacking corpses. Building blocks rather than dolls."

"Gods, what a thought." His smile returned, almost unwillingly. "Uinse's lads'll like it. He did ask Barzha if she needed to see you before they burned the corpses, and she said no. He reckoned they'd … 'got off' was his phrase, on the battle itself. Did you see them during it?"

"I didn't see them at all."

"I dragged myself to the gatehouse roof. It was like looking at a model except it was happening—your cavalry and archers, the Scanrans charging, and stormwings gliding in a circle three hundred feet up. When you sprang the trap they came lower. I swear they were savouring it."

"They probably were, Dom. Their food's emotion. Think of the wave of realisation in those riders as the ones before them went down. And our triumph in slaughter. It must have been quite the feast."

"Gods. Again. I'd forgotten you could be so deadpan."

She found herself grinning. "There's not many people I can be like this with here, Dom. And I've been thinking about stormwings a lot. Peace is a kind of starvation for them, and from what Cloestra said about getting herself pregnant after Rathhausak births must drop when they're starving and increase in wartime. So the more mortals fight, the more stormwings there are likely to be, but numbers decline in peace—it's like the animal systems Master Lindhall used to describe. Lots of grass, more rabbits. More rabbits, more owls and eagles. Too many rabbits, not enough grass, and rabbits start starving. So do owls and eagles. It's a balance but gives stormwings a vested interest in war. So a question—what can they feed on in peacetime?"

He frowned. "No idea, Kel. Nothing's like battle and dying."

"Training's supposed to be like battle."

"Not emotionally. A very poor meal, I'd think."

"Yes. We need something with lots of emotion." A thought came. "Something children do —like a swing over a waterhole. All shrieking excitement. That must be why they like children so much—I've seen Cloestra staring at the playground. Drinking, maybe. Something that gave children a real thrill … moments when your heart's in your mouth with the fun of it."

"I remember. There was a waterhole and swing near Masbolle, but the rapids were better. About a mile downriver, little ones with a route through them, sitting on a log, but the first time— it was a test."

"Yes. I wonder how stormwings would get on with the Chamber? Would they get drunk?" She grinned at his horrified look. "I must talk to Barzha. The treaty's only good while war lasts, but isn't it better having stormwings as auxiliaries than defilers?"

He blinked. "You want to reform stormwings so they don't play with corpses any more?"

"Of course. It's a bad habit. Mothers don't approve." To laugh at herself without bitterness was balm. "It's good to talk, Dom. I missed your company, not just your skills." What else she missed didn't matter. "It's wonderful having Yuki but she doesn't approve of soldiers' humour and Neal does carry on so when I shock him. But I must get my head down. Tomorrow might be alright or a nightmare. I can't be asleep on my feet." At the door she couldn't stop herself putting a hand to his cheek for a second, as once to Quenuresh's, but turned it to a grasp of his shoulder when she saw his surprise. "Thanks, Dom. It helps a lot."

He was still there when she gently closed the door but after a moment limped away. Her bed called, but she needed to read her legal notes and the regulations for a commander's enquiry into acts potentially warranting a capital charge. Sighing, she went to her worktable.

They had been assembled only a few minutes next morning before the griffins circled in, gleaming sunlight, and swooped to land beside Kel on the terrace. She sat before the shrines, three clerks at a table to one side, sworn to record truly all they observed. To their right Rogal sat, guarded. Baird had a chair on the other side, and below them New Hope was assembled, even prisoners; even the duty watch was in earshot. The spidrens had come, and Whitelist and his mates. Cloestra watched from her roost, and the rest of the Stone Tree Nation were perched on rooftops; sniffing gently, Kel thought they were probably here for the emotional feast, but all had washed. Most people seated themselves, knowing it would be a long, hot morning and probably afternoon, but all rose with Kel as the griffins came in. When they had settled Kel bowed and received imperious nods from the adults.

"Thank you for coming, my Lord and Lady." Her voice was pitched to carry. "Quenuresh, please ask them to sit before me on either side. Junior can sit where he likes so long as he keeps still."

Before she'd finished the griffins were moving, reseating themselves in the tucked posture of patient cats. Junior trotted over to boot at her knee before gliding from the terrace to land by Amiir'aan and Bel'iira. Kel shifted to speak to everyone.

"You all know the power of the Honesty Gate. That is griffin magic and in their presence no mortal can knowingly lie. I cannot, nor any who will give evidence, nor Rogal when he speaks. In courtesy, I order all who come to speak to bow to them first, as I have done. Please sit."

She stayed standing.

"Hear me clearly. This is not a court martial, nor a vote. It is a commander's enquiry into the death of Sir Merric of Hollyrose two days ago, and into evidence reported to me that he was

pushed to his death by Rogal, formerly a captain of arms in the employ of the then Lord of Tirrsmont and at the time of Sir Merric's death under his command. It is held in public because you are concerned to understand what happened, but it is a military proceeding and you are spectators only. If the evidence reported is sustained, Rogal will be committed to court martial when the commanders arrive. If it is not sustained I shall do as truth demands." She took a deep breath. "There is a difficulty. Rogal has stated he believes he can get no fair hearing here, and rejects my authority. But that I assert. I granted him refuge at New Hope only with provision that he come under military jurisdiction and swear to obey all standing and direct orders given him by those in authority. His oath was witnessed by my captains, including Sir Merric, who made formal depositions of witness. Still, Rogal's claim he cannot be heard fairly here has some merit—Sir Merric was my friend as well as my officer, and we mourn him bitterly, while Rogal is yet a stranger and has made no friends. And I will not have it said we act with injustice."

Some would say it anyway but she would give them no ammunition and herself no avoidable nightmares.

"Nevertheless, I judge Rogal's claim to have insufficient merit. All I am enquiring into is what caused Sir Merric to fall. If it was murder, I need to know, and to commit Rogal to court martial as regulations and justice require. The griffins ensure truth will be spoken. His Grace of Queenscove is independent of my authority and shall speak as he will. And all who give evidence will be available to any court martial. It is enough when we are at war and a knight of the realm needlessly dead."

She sat.

"Mikal of Holtwood was senior within the walls when Sir Merric fell, and Sergeant Connac Sir Merric's second on the alure. I will first hear them, then the soldiers posted nearest to Rogal and his crenel partner. Sir Neal will speak as the healer called after Sir Merric fell. Rogal may speak for himself. Does anyone else believe they have evidence those I have named will not know?" She waited. "Very well. Rogal, is there anyone you would have speak I have not listed?"

His voice was hoarse and his manner surly. "Sir Voelden."

"Alright." She knew exactly where the knight was sitting and caught his eye. "Sir Voelden, please be prepared to speak after Rogal." He nodded reluctantly. "Mikal of Holtwood, captain of Northwatch Company Fourteen, please come forward."

Mikal had been in the gatehouse, arriving after Merric had fallen, and ordered Rogal's arrest because everyone he questioned had said that Rogal pushed Merric from the alure; names were entered in the record. He could add that Merric had spoken several times, including that day, of difficulties with Rogal as insubordinate and refractory, constantly making clear his high opinion of his own command ability and scorn for Kel's and Merric's. Connac specified the problem as it had taken shape when the Scanrans began closing—Rogal's conviction that with griffin-fletched arrows any archer with a good self bow could hit the Scanrans from the alures as they charged, and that it was a fatal misjudgement to order anything else. All specially fletched arrows were a bone of contention for him, Connac added—he had wanted since arriving to be issued them and was bitterly resentful not to have access at will, as a master archer if not as captain. The soldiers who'd been at crenels on either side filled in the narrative—backchat and rude gestures from Rogal, Merric's wearing temper as tension rose, Rogal taking a griffin-fletched arrow when Merric had unlocked the cases, giving clear instructions no special arrows were to be touched without direct orders and recognising the shimmering fletching when Rogal nocked the arrow, again without orders. Rogal's crenel partner described the moment—Rogal beginning to draw, intent on firing, Merric's deft removal of the nocked arrow and the whirling, angry push that took him off balance, to stagger hard against the railing in his top-heavy half-armour and pivot over as

his feet went from under him. Neal had found the broken arrowshaft gripped in his hand.

Kel halted for an hour to allow everyone to eat. The griffins refused food but drank from the spring, and sat quietly with Junior, presumably talking; Kel took the opportunity to relay via Quenuresh Vanget's thanks for the Honesty Gate at Northwatch. When people settled again Kel called Rogal. After jerky bows to the griffins, his speech, punctuated by straining silences and shifting word choice amounted to angry observation that only a fool interfered with a master archer drawing and he'd been aiming at a Scanran, as he was supposed to do. His reaction had been natural and unavoidable; implicitly Merric's fall was an accident for which he bore no responsibility, but he didn't actually say it and Kel suspected he couldn't because he knew it wasn't true. Her Yamani mask was so tightly in place she was conscious of her skin's stiffness.

"Can you deny you took a griffin-fletched arrow from its case?" He tried briefly, and gave up. "No."

"Can you deny that in doing so you disobeyed a direct order of which you were fully aware?"

He tried harder with the same result. The male griffin turned its head, eyeing him. "No." "Can you deny you nocked and began to draw, intending to fire, without orders to do so?" "No."

"Can you deny that you pushed Sir Merric, with both hands on the breastplate, and that in consequence he hit the railing and pivoted over it, falling to his death?"

The answer was a long time coming though his mouth muscles were trying to work, and both griffins shifted. "No."

She considered the nature of lies and men who lied. "When you pushed Sir Merric did you intend him to fall to his death?"

"No."

His voice grated and Kel frowned. How could he only just not have intended it? Then she

knew.

"When you saw what was happening after you pushed Sir Merric did you hope he would fall to his death?"

He flushed but said nothing, mouth working again, and both griffins rose, lashing their tails. Quenuresh's voice came from below.

"The griffins say he seeks to lie, straining as to pass a stool." Kel shifted question. "Rogal, what is the lie you wish to tell?" "NO." The word burst from him as it became truth and he sagged.

She swallowed disgust. "So the truth is yes, you hoped Merric would fall. That he would die. You did not intend his death, but when you saw what you had done you hoped for it. Can you deny it?"

He looked away. "No."

"Can you tell me why?"

His mouth twisted as he looked at her, hate in his eyes. "Empty shoes to fill. How else would I get command back from your favourites?"

I am a lake. "So. Do you still wish Sir Voelden to speak? He was on patrol at the time and can offer no direct evidence."

"He can tell you I'm none of yours. You have no right to judge me."

"You swore, Rogal, in full knowledge, so I have that right, and duty. But Sir Voelden may clarify your status in law, if he will. Sir Voelden?"

He clomped to the terrace, bowing sharply to the griffins and standing squarely between them as he spoke clearly.

"Rogal was employed by my late father, then Lord of Tirrsmont, as captain of a mercenary troop. He was paid. I do not know if he swore a liege-oath to my father. He swore none to me. His men left when the money stopped. I do not know why he stayed. I told him to go."

"Do you know of any reason he should not be subject to this enquiry or to a court martial?"

"No." Rogal groaned and Voelden shot him a look of hatred. "From the moment he chose to swear the oath you demanded, Commander, he has been under military jurisdiction, as Emerint and I are."

Rogal stood, angrily. "You're not half the man your father was." "And look where it got him. May I be excused, Commander?"

"Two questions, Sir Voelden. Please speak as freely as truth allows, without fear or favour."

He nodded. "Ask them."

"Are you content this enquiry has been fair, and found the truth?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "You have been scrupulous. It's awkward only because if I had inherited I could claim noble privilege on Rogal's behalf, were I minded to. But I did not inherit, I have no privilege to claim, and if I had I would not extend it to him."

Rogal spat and Kel had his guards sit him in his chair. They weren't gentle but under her eye weren't needlessly rough either.

"Rogal, if you spit again you will be gagged. My apologies, Sir Voelden. My other question was whether there is anything else you can tell me of Rogal? He claims no fief and has refused to give information about his life before coming to Tirrsmont."

"He's been at Tirrsmont for two years—he came just after war started, when my father hired troops for defence, and has never to my knowledge called himself aught but Captain Rogal."

"You know nothing of how he made contact with your father?"

"I do not. I was rarely at Tirrsmont before the war, and often in my cups." His voice was unflinching. "My father and I spoke little and he was a close-mouthed man. Master Lasner might

know more."

"Indeed. Thank you."

Voelden returned to his place and at Kel's summons Lasner reluctantly came forward.

"I don't know anything much, Lady Kel. I can only say what I think."

"Very well. What do you think, Master Lasner?"

"His Lordship—His late Lordship—brought Captain Rogal and his men from Corus, the summer war started. He was in charge of the hired men but all they did was man gate and walls— they never went out after Scanrans but once, when there was a bunch running from defeat by the army. I think he's a southerner—he sent letters to Corus and a woman in Pearlmouth. And couriers brought sealed letters for him sometimes, but I don't know anything about them. I didn't have anything to do with the military—just the castle house."

"Very well. Thank you." Watching him down the steps Kel thought about delaying but there was no point. "Rogal, you say I should have ordered mass fire from the alures. What would that have achieved?"

He stared. "It'd kill Scanrans, of course. Are you stupid?"

"The range was extreme."

"But griffin arrows fly true."

"Not beyond the limit of the bow."

"They were in range for a good archer. If you'd had the brains we could have killed a lot of them." He was startled by the sour laugh from listening people. "Why are they laughing? It's true."

"The prisoners over there are the only survivors. We massacred them. And without taking any deaths, which would not have been the case with arrows flying at extreme range at a milling cavalry fight."

He gaped. "I don't believe you."

"Ask a griffin if I lie. I've heard enough. Stand him up." She stood herself. "My judgement on Rogal in this commander's enquiry is twofold. He is fined the cost of one griffin-fletched arrow, to be set against any wages owed and if necessary possessions, as set out in regulations. He is also committed for court martial on charges of acting against orders and striking his superior, and on capital charges of wilfully disobeying orders in action and causing the death of a knight of the realm, his superior officer. He will be held in solitary confinement on bread and water." She eyed Rogal's guards. "He will not be taunted, abused, or harmed in any way, on your peril. Take him to the cell."

The crowd watched in silence as he was led away but as he vanished down the slope to the cave they stirred and Kel raised her voice. "Stay, please. There is more." Surprised, they settled. "What happened was caused by stupidity and malice, but was in some measure an accident. There are lessons to learn and precautions to take. Those who have stations on the alures —how many are as tall or taller than Merric?"

Slowly hands went up among the soldiers. Merric had been strong but not especially tall.

"If he fell like that in half-armour so could you in breastplates and bascinets. His boots were worn smooth. How are yours? Sergeants, make sure boots are checked and repaired if necessary. And everybody be careful up there—rails help but they're not the safeguard I'd hoped." She closed her eyes, marshalling thoughts. "So we'll fix that. Master Geraint, I'd like spars ten foot below the alures, please—fifteen-foot spars every ten yards or so. Quenuresh and Aldoven, I'm sorry for your spinnerets but webs, please, to string from those spars. It can be a wide mesh— just strong enough that if anyone falls they've something to catch them short of the ground."

She waited a moment, absorbing pain.

"The last thing is for officers of all ranks. Sir Merric made a mistake. It's true we were facing the enemy, but one archer less on the eastern alure would have made no odds. They didn't have to fire anyway and Merric knew they probably wouldn't, so Rogal should have had one chance—anyone can be nervy with the enemy in sight, or make a suggestion—but when he was openly insubordinate he should have been dismissed from the alure, under escort if necessary. Allowed to remain, he festered and burst. The fault was his alone. The mistakes were not. The sorrow is everyone's. Now—"

Her homily was cut short by a sentry on the north tower roof. "Scanran horsemen to the north. Twenty plus. Two miles."

"Hold! Everyone stay where you are, until I know what this is."

The crowd below her was densely packed and she ran along the terrace to the shelf, then the alure. The horsemen were immediately visible on the eastern side of the valley, and must have come through the trees; the spidrens' absence had cleared the way, and Kel realised the Scanrans must be puzzled by the lack of anyone in the fields in mid-afternoon. As she studied the group she became increasingly puzzled—it lookedlike two officers with an escort, or an officer and a mage, but if so, where was the command? They were disputing among themselves, presumably about the absence of people, until the man she took to be the officer shrugged and spurred forward; the hooded man who might be a mage rode after, and recognition stirred. She couldn't see his face but something was familiar. The escort surged after them and her mind whirled as she turned to the sea of faces staring up at her.

"Alright, people, I don't think this is a big problem but it's odd and there may be more Scanrans than we can see, so the alarm is for a mid-size attack. Soldiers, get armed and armoured. Civilians with duty stations, to them." Her eye picked out Tobe heading for headquarters and she raised her voice. "Tobe! Weiryn's bow, please, as well as half-armour." He raised a hand, never slowing, and she blessed him. "Immortals, as you will so long as you're not in anyone's way. Neal, Duke Baird, please come up here."

To her surprise neither griffins nor stormwings took off but other immortals did gather on the terrace with the griffins and Cloestra. Their business. Waiting for Neal and Baird she returned to studying the Scanrans, now about a mile from the glacis and coming on at a canter. The officer's face bobbing in her spyglass was clean shaven and he was well-dressed, but she could make out no insignia and beside him the hooded man plucked memory. The troops looked a better trained lot than the last—hard-faced, bearded men in good mail keeping efficient formation. As Neal and Baird arrived she handed over the spyglass.

"The hooded man in the van, beside the clean-shaven fellow. Something's ringing a bell. Would you look please?"

While Baird looked she fished her griffin-band from her pouch and put in on, but it revealed no illusions and she found she didn't think the hooded man was a mage after all, though she wasn't sure why.

"I can't see his face, Keladry, and nothing seems familiar." Baird passed the spyglass, frowning. "What do you suppose they're doing?"

"I've no idea. Approaching like this makes no sense—it's a scouting party taking advantage of deserted fields but why bother? Neal?"

"I don't know, Kel—I can't see his face but … I hear a bell too. It's the riding style—tilted forward. Someone we know rides like that."

"He doesn't look as if he's held prisoner."

"No. And the only Scanrans I know are here already."

Kel stood close to the parapet to let half-a-dozen men pass to the crenels beyond. "They're slowing."

The horsemen pulled up perhaps four hundred yards out, and Kel could hear the leader calling something. She couldn't make out words but it was plain he was telling the officer not to go closer. He dismounted and Kel saw him raise something to his eye in a familiar motion.

"They're surveying. I'm not having that if I can help it." She spun, knowing Mikal would be on the gatehouse roof, and waved an arm but he was watching. Her voice lifted into battle mode. "Mikal, five squads to sally." She spread fingers wide. "Five. Quick as you can." He waved and vanished but it would take a while for men and horses to be readied.

Tobe, in his jerkin, came carefully up the nearest stairway, breastplate in one hand and the great bow in the other with her archer's glove; her bascinet was on his head, over his own, and she plucked it off, grinning as she took the breastplate and knelt to let him buckle it.

"Neal, Baird, stay if you want but breastplates and helmets, please."

"I've spares, father—I'll get them with mine."

Neal left and Baird looked at the bow where Tobe had propped it.

"That's the bow Lord Weiryn gave you, Keladry?"

"It is, and it shoots long and very true. And this is when special arrows are worth chancing —exactly as Merric imagined. All done, Tobe?"

"Yes, Ma. Can I stay?"

"So long as they're not firing."

Connac was duty sergeant for the alure, as he had been two days before, and was waiting. "Orders, Lady Kel?"

"Not yet, Sergeant. The sally will drive them off but won't pursue. We're here in case covering fire is needed—ordinary arrows at maximum elevation. But if those two come any closer I might have a try with the godbow, and I'll have a special arrow for that."

"Right you are, Lady Kel."

Merric's keys were in her office but Connac had a set and unlocked the nearest box. Baird followed her, peering with interest.

"These are what Rogal took?"

"Yes. Most are griffin-fletched but these"—she took a couple of the ones she wanted, turning them to make sure they were true—"are griffin-and-stormwing. Magekillers. I don't think that hooded fellow is a mage but just in case …"

He glanced through the crenel. "You can hit them from here?"

"No. But if either comes fifty yards closer I might have a shot."

"The hooded fellow is coming closer."

"He is?" She made her choice, restored the other to the case, and went to look. The hooded man was riding forward, ignoring shouts from the escort. His face remained invisible but the dark oval of his hood turned as he scanned the wall, and as she lodged the bow against her foot and strung it he came to her. She held the bow down so he wouldn't see it and gazed back, willing him to come just a little closer; his horse was still moving forward though his head was no longer turning.

Neal returned in breastplate and helmet, carrying others, and began to buckle his father's. Lendor came up the stairway behind him and approached, saluting. "The sally squads are almost ready, Lady Kel. Captain Mikal asks if you've any special orders."

"Yes—drive them off but don't pursue." She drew on her glove. "We don't know what else is out there. I'm going to try the godbow—don't sally before I shoot. And if I get lucky try to secure anyone injured—or dead, come to that. We might learn something."

"Sally after you shoot, don't pursue, secure any dead or injured. Right, Lady Kel."

He'd glanced out as she spoke and she could see he didn't think there was any hope of a hit, but who knew? Nor did disbelief stop his crisp recap and prompt departure, and her attention swung back to the hooded man, coming to another halt, still staring at her. He was at least sixty yards in front of the clean shaven man, maybe seventy, and that put him only a little further away than she'd managed with the bow in practice. Without looking away she spoke a prayer to Lord Weiryn, thanking him for the grace of his gift and asking her strength and skill be enough; she added a prayer to the Black God that Merric be allowed to witness her shot. She heard Neal, Baird, Tobe, and the nearest soldiers join her 'So mote it be', but voices were distant as she concentrated, absorbing distance.

"Neal, I'm going to stand in the crenel. Hand on my belt please."

Carefully she levered herself up, bow at her side with the arrow in her ungloved hand. She straightened, moving into as broad a stance as the merlons allowed, and didn't allow herself to think of the thirty -foot drop to the spikes of the killing field. Neal grasped her belt but her attention was narrowed to the dark oval staring back at her. Thoughts of the Black God drifted in her mind as the man raised a hand, finger extended in the old insult, and began to turn away. The bow was rising, arrow nocked, brindled steel of the cock fletching properly placed, and before the range could extend she swung up, let it drop fractionally into the aim as she reached maximum draw, and the bow sang a golden note as she let fly with a feeling of absolute rightness. The flight seemed endless but the trajectory perfect and the hooded man's back squarely to her as he slammed forward, feet slipping from stirrups as his horse bolted. She heard Baird's exclamation and cheers along the alure as she watched his body fall; distant gates creaked open for the sally but she was more conscious of the drop.

"Neal, pull me back, please, slowly." Her voice was husky but she felt him begin to pull,

keeping her eyes on the fallen man and moving her front leg back until she felt the edge of the parapet. She held the bow high while she brought her other leg back too and stooped to brace and jump down with relief.

"Thanks."

"The height?"

"Just a touch."

"But only after it didn't matter." He laid an arm over her shoulders. "That was some shot, Kel. A thousand feet?"

"About that. This bow makes it easy and I think Lord Weiryn helped. Did you hear it

sing?"

"I should think everyone heard it. You'd have to be deaf not to." His head turned. "They're running."

Refocusing, she saw the clean-shaven man was spurring back to his escort, who let him through and fell in behind. The hooded man lay face down, unmoving, his horse running flat out after its fellows.

"Can you stop that horse, Tobe?"

His face scrunched up and he shook his head. "Sorry, Ma—it's too far when he's that frightened."

"Not to fret. I wouldn't have minded seeing in his saddlebags."

She heard hooves ring on the moatbridge and a few seconds later Mikal and his men came into view, checking as they saw the retreating enemy. Shouts from men on the north tower directed them and they cantered towards the fallen man. Kel turned away.

"Sergeant Connac!"

"My Lady?"

"I think that's it for today but keep the men at their stations until Mikal's men are back."

"Of course, my Lady."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Where did Lady Kel go, Connac? Did I do something wrong?"

He eyed her cautiously. "No, Lady Kel—quite the opposite. You just shot a man at impossible range, so I was feeling respectful."

"It's the bow. Don't get too respectful—it'll only go to my head." "Oh aye? We'll watch for that then, my Lady, next blue moon." She grinned at him. "Do that. Carry on." "Where'll you be, Lady Kel, if need arises?"

"With the immortals." She jerked a thumb at the terrace. "Then at the gatehouse as soon as Mikal brings that body in."

He saluted and went along the alure, speaking briefly to archers as he passed each pair.

Automatically she set the bow to unstring it and Neal laid a hand on her arm.

"Will you let father try, Kel? I told him how hard we found it."

"Surely." She passed the bow to Baird and saw his struggle, though easy movement showed he knew what he was about.

"I can't begin to bend this thing, Keladry."

She set and easily bent it, slipping string from nock. "It must be godwork. It's no problem to me. Come and make nice with immortals?"

"If I must."

"I can deal with them."

"No, no—it's just that having passed sixty I'm not used to feeling young and gawky any

more."

She smiled. "That many centuries is intimidating, isn't it? But you could try Junior—he's younger than I am."

"Keladry, just now almost everyone's younger than you are. Lead on."

Faintly indignant she did. Her main concern was to thank the griffins again and apologise for the disruption, but after listening to the adults Quenuresh turned with a light in her eyes.

"They say you need not thank them, Lady Kel—they regard it as part of their job. Much as you rediscovered the stormwing custom of attending funerals of the righteous, you rediscover a griffin custom—sitting in courts. And they approve of that reversed question to Rogal. It was efficient, he says, and they are happy to return for such an enquiry." Her voice became dry. "They are also happy it has been a good experience for … Junior. He has learned what proximity to a mortal struggling to lie feels like. And they ask if they may hunt now."

"Of course. But we have fish and they've given up most of the day."

"No. He thanks you but says they know a good pool on the river. I think flight and the hunt are relaxing after lie-detecting."

Kel bowed deeply to the adults before squatting to scratch Junior's head. He didn't even try to bite, and after a moment all three launched themselves from the terrace, the downdraft redolent with flint and spices Kel couldn't identify. She found Quenuresh looking at her.

"You hit your mark, Protector? I heard the godbow sing."

"I did."

"At what range?"

"Three-hundred-and-some yards. Call it a thousand feet."

Quenuresh pursed her lips and other immortals were interested, Whitelist asking to see the bow before passing it to an ogre. Kel meanwhile was talking to Aldoven about Scanrans.

"They fled east and may bivouac in your territory. Be careful? If they're there, shout. I'll

send reinforcements."

"Help from mortals against mortals? Wonders never cease with you, Protector."

"We have a treaty. I won't stint on it. You came today when you needn't have. And yesterday. Your credit's good."

"Both days have been informative, Protector, and impressive. I have never heard of anyone favoured both by the Black God and griffins. But if the fields are clear we will go. We have webs to spin besides those for your alures."

"Thank you."

Quenuresh and kin opted to go too and Kel watched them down the roadway, seeing Mikal's men saluting as they passed. Baird and Neal joined her, with Yuki holding her daughter.

"Waiting on a corpse, Kel? There was something about the man …" "I think you were right about riding style but I can't pin it." "You pinned him alright."

She punched his arm and they waited together as Mikal came up to them, the hooded body slung awkwardly across his horse.

Conscious of Neal following Kel walked to where the hooded head hung, the broken shaft of her arrow projecting from the neck, and grasping it lifted, snapping her wrist to flip the hood back. She heard Neal's indrawn breath and the world contracted to a pinpoint filled with the familiar, nightmare features of Vinson of Genlith.


	19. Chapter 17

Business

Part V – Lughnasad

July – September 462 HE

Chapter Seventeen — Business

1–6 July

Kel's stint as District Commander had been quiet everywhere save New Hope. She was relieved all the same when the party from Trebond were at last spotted coming down valley, a day later than looked for, but it wasn't eagerness for relief that drove her to meet them south of the fin. Behind the point squad Wyldon, Alanna, and Raoul rode side-by-side, and trailing them Numair and Daine, a baby slung on her chest.

"Kel!" Alanna's smile faded as she took in Kel's grimness. "Uh-oh—what's up?"

"Several things, I'm afraid, and one that matters now. I'm sorry to greet you with a problem but there's reason." She explained what had happened to Merric and saw faces darken. Wyldon's lips compressed and Alanna gave some choice curses. "Yes, all of that. Vanget's not here because he waited on Commander Svein from Eastwatch and two of his company seconds. He's also bringing one of his own captains—all three having no relation to Tirrsmont. We can't find people who don't know about what happened to him—everyone's supposed to know—but we can try to be impartial. Vanget mentioned a company second in charge of your escort and a senior sergeant who qualify?"

Wyldon nodded heavily. "Arres of Rosemark and Sergeant Viller. He has more than ten years' seniority so he's in the court martial pool. And I can't recall that either has any relevant ties of blood or marriage."

"Then that's our five. The problem is they shouldn't talk to any of my people before they hear witnesses—people know what outcome they want. I've had beds made up in a barn. Could one of you tell them, please, with my apologies for indignity and discomfort, but we're very full."

"I will." Raoul frowned. "When do you propose to hold the court martial, Kel?"

"Properly that's Wyldon's decision but I want it as soon as Vanget and his party get here, as does he. They should arrive tonight, so tomorrow, in parallel with the conference, unless you feel you should attend."

"Not sure, Kel, but there's time to think about that. I'll tell Arres and Sergeant Viller, then you can show me this marvel fort of yours."

"Alright." Raoul turned his horse and Kel looked at Alanna. "Let me say hello to Daine and Numair, and young Sarralyn. Is she still shapeshifting all the time?"

"No, gods be thanked. Literally. The Green Lady put a stop to it by grandmotherly command."

Kel blinked. "They came, then?"

"Oh yes—antlers and all. It was impressive."

"It was extraordinary. He told me of his hounds." Wyldon shook his head. "Sarralyn's shapeshifting was bizarre but as a human she seems a sweet child, though her eyes are not an infant's."

Kel found she agreed. Sarralyn's deep brown eyes had a knowing look that made her think of Irnai and Tobe's old-man expression, though her smiles were adorable. She was desperately sorry the shadow of Merric's death should attend her first meeting with the babe but Daine's and Numair's mingled pride and relief, shot through with joy, was a tonic despite their sorrow for Merric. She rode with them, letting the commanders ponder whether they should observe the court martial, and heard a funny account of the naming ceremony and the happiness of Daine's parents in their grandchild. A startling thought intruded.

"Um, do you know if she's inherited your Gift as well as Daine's wild magic, Numair?"

"She has, Kel. Strongly."

"Oh. Right. And, um, what can a blackrobe shapeshifter do?"

"No idea, except shift a lot. There's never been one we know of."

"Oh." Kel contemplated a riverhorse that could turn you into a tree and wished she hadn't. "That's going to be … an adventure."

"So we anticipate." Daine's eyes twinkled. "I'm hoping we can make it very large animals rather than ones that are really absent-minded."

"Magelet!"

Kel welcomed the humour—there'd been little enough of late—but was reminded. "I'm afraid I got you into trouble with Vanget, Numair, when he saw my opal. His immediate thought was it made little mirrors for patrols possible, using the Crown's Dunlath stock."

Numair grinned. "Don't fret, Kel—he's already caught up with me about that. I knew he would but I needed time to make the mirrorspell easier, which I have, and refine the opal spell. Harailt now does them, and mages at the City of the Gods should be able to learn. Vanget'll get his mirrors and opals, though not as many as he'd like. I'll do you some too, and that Steadfast link." His smile was wry. "All I have to do now is double the range so everywhere can link with Corus."

"Ask Diamondflame next Midwinter. Or via Quenuresh—she speaks across three realms." Numair blinked. "Where's Kit, by the way?"

"Back in Corus pestering Kawit, almost certainly." Daine sounded resigned. "Among the dragonspells Diamondflame taught her when he visited was the basic flame spell, but he did have the sense to make her promise she wouldn't practice without Kawit's supervision."

"Oh glory. Has she set fire to anything she shouldn't?" "Only a rug." Daine was a little too offhand.

"Um, was anyone standing on it at the time?"

The grin was urchin. "Duke Gary, being pompous even for him. Kit thought the rug was really ugly and I can't fault her for that."

"Nor for her sense of timing, eh?"

"Exactly. I told you she'd understand, Numair."

"It was a rather valuable old rug, Magelet."

"It had wyverns on it, in nasty colours. I gave him a new one."

"You gave him a sixteen-foot bearskin he doesn't dare walk on that makes him sneeze."

"That's only because it keeps itself clean, Numair. If his office wasn't so dusty to begin with he wouldn't have a problem."

"A sixteen-foot bearskin … um, I thought you didn't approve of animal-skin rugs?"

Daine nodded. "I don't as a rule, but Da has a running competition with the bear god, pelt against antlers. Whoever loses gets reborn immediately, and Da's won the last two times and had no use for another pelt so he gave it to me."

Kel stared. Gods killed one another for fun? "You're joking."

"Not at all. Seems to keep them both happy. And it's a much more valuable rug than that horrid wyverny thing so Gary can't complain."

"Oh can't he?" Numair's voice was a pained mutter. "He just doesn't dare complain to you, Magelet."

They came up to the others, who'd stopped on the limestone bridge while Raoul and the point squad stared at New Hope.

"Kel, that's astonishing. Magnificent. Descriptions don't do justice."

Kel smiled, pleased to impress but still thinking about a bearskin rug of that size and the bear it had come from. "It keeps Scanrans out, so far. But none of you have seen what we've done with the corral, and there's someone you should meet, Raoul. We'll detour."

Their escort went on to New Hope with Daine and Numair and the packhorses, Arres and Sergeant Viller promising to report to Brodhelm alone, and Kel's guards took over as she led them round the fin. The moat wasn't filled, so the vicious spikes were visible, drawing Alanna's and Raoul's whistles, and though the drawbridge wasn't articulated it was in place, allowing them to ride through the almost completed gatehouse to the killing field. Kel quietly asked one of the building team to warn Dom, working in the stableblock, and turned to Raoul.

"It's going to be our sally port, in effect, so I need someone I can trust in charge here, and I've appointed a captain of the corral, using commander's authority to override a fitness issue. Vanget agreed, so it's all proper, and I think you'll remember him. This way."

She led them through to the main space, sending Raoul on to the stables because she thought Dom would prefer to be alone for this. Wyldon and Alanna were staring at the Mindelan owl and her crossed glaives, gleaming in the afternoon light, and raised eyebrows in unison.

"It looks as if you came to a decision, Keladry."

Kel flushed but didn't deny it. "It was made for me, Wyldon—Tobe and St'aara created that for my birthday and the first I saw it was already up there. But yes, if I live through this I'll apply for the fief—it really does seem to be what everyone wants."

"Good for you, Kel." Alanna clapped her on the shoulder. "Of course it's what people want—they're not stupid. Now, who's this captain of the corral of yours that Raoul knows?"

"Domitan of Masbolle. You know he was invalided out of the Third last year? He was fretting at home in bad spirits, so he turned up here looking for something to do. He's halt so field combat's an issue, but for this he's perfect. The only adjustment is ramps rather than stairs to the alure, and Geraint thinks they're faster anyway. And I've been meaning to say, Wyldon, we should be more flexible about wounded veterans. There are plenty who could do more than we have them doing."

"That's a thought. And I can see why you wanted a veteran for this job—a cool head and experienced eye. Is that really a drawbridge?"

"Yes, with a petrified portcullis as counterweight. Dom's idea. We only have to finish the chains and we can articulate, probably before you go. And just wait till you see the bridge in the tunnel."

That was the last stop on the tour she gave Raoul as the sun westered, Wyldon and Alanna tagging along to see improvements and seeming to get on better than Kel had ever known. Raoul had been delighted to see Dom, and relieved, thanking her quietly but intensely as they walked the eastern alure.

"I was worried about him, Kel, but the healers shipped him south and all I got was a note saying he was sorry to let me down. Idiot."

"Huh. I got five lines assuring me he was fine, which didn't. But he pulled himself together. And gods know I'm glad to have him—I thought I'd have to appoint poor Merric, but he wasn't right for it."

"No. Five lines, eh? You were honoured."

"Hardly. I'd sent a hundred. Come and meet Cloestra. Her egg should hatch next month. Ever seen a baby stormwing?"

"Gods, no. What a thought."

"I'll let you know—I confess I'm intrigued. Numair says he can set up a New Hope– Steadfast spellmirror, if you don't mind—it'd be nice to be able to talk."

Cloestra was in good form, slyly impressing by adding a scouting report from her morning's flying exercise as well as showing off her egg, which had acquired an odd lustre as it incubated. The lookout post was also impressive, revealing Vanget's party just coming into view a good nine miles north, and Kel swiftly led on to the tunnel. The completed bridge, which Geraint demonstrated as they stood in the wide aperture on the further side, had all the effect she'd hoped for.

"The arrowloops are for guards with crossbows, so I think our back door's got a decent

lock."

"Goddess, yes. No-one's getting over this hole in a hurry even if they're not under fire."

"I agree, Keladry—this is first-rate in every way. And that's an excellent design indeed, Master Geraint." Hauling counterweights with help from two soldiers he nodded. "Could it be used elsewhere?"

The bridge was pushed back and seated, allowing them to recross.

"Thank you, my Lord. I don't see why not, if there's a sufficient drop for counterweights. You need basilisk help—or a metal span, maybe. Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"A ravine west of Mastiff—I've not had it bridged because it's a natural defence, but it'd be useful to be able to do so at will. It's about fifty feet across."

"I'll have a word with Var'istaan and take a look when we come back west, my Lord." "Thank you."

Once they were back on the main level in fading light Kel showed them to guest rooms, left copies of the enquiry record, and rode out to meet Vanget. Svein of Hannalof, commanding at Eastwatch where the borders bent round low hills separating tributaries of the Vassa and Drell, was an older cousin of Ortien and Uline with the same tumbling black hair, but having missed Orie's wedding Kel had never met him and they greeted one another with mutual caution and interest. The officers he and Vanget had brought for the court martial kept their distance, as did Vanget's staffers, but none could stop themselves gaping at the glacis and skulls. On the way up the roadway Vanget came alongside her.

"You didn't tell the others about Vinson or the prisoners?" "You asked me not to."

"Good. The prisoners will be a nice surprise but Vinson is another story. I'm thinking about what you said, but keep quiet for now, please, Kel. I really don't like the implications. Nor will the Lioness and she'll likely rant a while—she's distracted anyway—but I want to deal with the military picture before we go there."

"Of course. Is Alanna distracted because …?"

"Yes, she found out. The King let it slip. She wasn't happy and there's still no news, though George says he has a lead. Didn't say what."

If the Baron hadn't Kel wouldn't either. Once they'd passed the gate she welcomed all to New Hope. Brodhelm took charge of officers, Mikal of staffers and escort, and Kel showed Vanget and Svein to guest rooms. She ate with all her ranking guests, and after a dinner in which the goddess's blessings seemed to be holding up, though Kel couldn't help thinking of Rogal's fare and the officers excluded from the lively chatter of the messhall, she invited them to her quarters, dragging Raoul away from smiling examination of godlit panels, and Alanna from Neal's and Yuki's still nameless daughter. Daine and Numair opted for an early night as Sarralyn wouldn't let them sleep through it, and Tobe helped her serve tea before withdrawing.

Once she was settled Wyldon cleared his throat. "I've had a chance to read the record of Keladry's enquiry, Vanget, and you're not going to like this but I feel you and I at least should observe the court martial." He was apologetic but Kel could tell his mind was made up. "I agree Rogal's under army jurisdiction, but we'd both have to confirm a capital sentence and while we couldn't be expected to attend if we weren't already here, it'd look odd not to observe as we are."

Vanget grunted. "Odd to whom?"

"Anyone who asks—and if it comes to it, which I think it will, a New Hope execution of a former Tirrsmont mercenary for killing a knight is going to be scrutinised. All else aside, on your past form I'm the one who'll have to give an account to the Council." He turned to Kel. "My congratulations on how you handled it, Keladry—it's unorthodox with the griffins, and that they think it customary to attend trials and enquiries needs serious thought. But this record is scrupulous and leaves no doubt what happened. Sir Voelden's statement is helpful too, though Master Lasner's raises questions."

"Rogal's correspondence, you mean?"

"Yes, and where Sir Arnolf got him. I wonder if he'll say anything this time round. But whatever he says I should hear myself."

Vanget was reluctant but couldn't argue. "Alright Wyldon—I bet myself you'd feel like that. But we do it with all speed—there are things we need to be discussing. And we can start now with something Kel's managed in your collective absence that deserves warm congratulations, poor Sir Merric notwithstanding, then hard thinking. Tell them about your victory and prisoners, Kel."

Put on the spot Kel had no choice and though she tried to run through the battle flatly it was hopeless. Raoul, Alanna, and Wyldon all had probing questions, and if Svein was quiet at first that didn't last as the action unfolded. When events had been pulled apart in every direction Alanna gave her a long look.

"So what were the final casualty numbers, Kel?"

"There were one-hundred -and-eighty-six of them. I've got three seriously injured, who'll recover in time, and nine back on duty, plus twenty-three uninjured Scanrans prisoners, who've given oaths. The rest were killed outright, most by griffin arrows."

"One hundred and fifty-five dead?" Svein's voice was shocked. "Stormwings piled them, recovering arrows, and we burned them." As she'd hoped stormwings distracted them but Raoul wasn't fooled.

"Allowing for Rathhausak that's your first real victory in open combat, Kel, and your casualty ratio is again astonishing. Unbelievable, in fact, except it happened. That battle should have a name."

"Should it?" She didn't think she liked the idea but with the efficacy of the arrows and Merric's death it probably would need to be referred to. "Who decides things like that?"

Wyldon smiled austerely. "The victors, Keladry. And Goldenlake's right—combined forces of three hundred men might be only a skirmish but you made it a battle and won superbly. Tactics and discipline. Slaughter's always ugly, but as a field commander it's what you have to want, and scheme for, however rarely you get it. Your archers must be tough and your drills exemplary if they can stand their ground and maintain that accuracy against charging cavalry."

"Griffin arrows don't miss at under a hundred yards, Wyldon, not with people coming straight at you, and they all saw their first shots go home. It was like scything wheat."

"Heh. There's your name, Kel—the Battle of Scything Wheat." Alanna grinned, then shrugged. "Unless you want to commemorate Merric. I'm more interested in the prisoners— Scanrans surrendering in numbers is new. Have you interrogated them?"

"Zerhalm and Irnai talked to them and we've got their stories. Their leader was Maggur's man, a hard one, they say, for all he was an idiot tactically, but they're all either conscripts at spear-point or under orders from clanchiefs Maggur's coercing with hostages."

"And they've kept their oaths?"

"So far." Kel hesitated. "I'm minded to say I'll keep them, if you're happy with that, and let them work off some of the damage their fellows have done, but I'm doubtful about having them loose during an attack and nowhere to secure that many. That's why I took oaths."

"And because you're you, Kel. Dogs, children, Scanrans …" She stuck our her tongue and Raoul laughed. "You want to recruit them, don't you?"

"Not exactly. They won't fight against their own clanchiefs, and the civilians have been conscripted too often already. But I did think we might let them be un-conscripted. Stanar, their unofficial spokesman, fought against Maggur at Somalkt, and said they'd heard about Rathhausak and Freja Haraldsdottir and her son, so I think they might accept non-military work. And where would we put them otherwise?"

Vanget nodded. "I'll go with that, Kel, unless the King objects, and as you'll hear tomorrow—no, day after—Svein has other news to consider. But they need to be questioned. Who knows what they know? I've a staffer whose Scanran is fluent."

"Make sure he tries courtesy first? Threats or bluster won't get him anywhere—these men aren't cowards, they were just in an impossible situation—but they know we have to ask questions and if he lets them tell their stories …"

"Yes, alright. Would Zerhalm sit in?"

"If we ask. He's been worried about what will happen."

"Then we'll do that. But the important thing is the object lesson in what griffin arrows can do if you keep your nerve and your archers are properly drilled."

"Yes indeed." Svein nodded sharply. "I've never heard of such arrows used in volley fire —only as individual longshots. It's a startling innovation, and deadly."

"Exactly. Kel, will you rewrite your report on, what was it? Scything Wheat as a purely tactical account. Include a plan, and notes on how you've made or traded for these arrows, and how you've trained archers. I agree any sensible field commander wouldn't have charged straight in without scouting much more carefully to see what you had, but he did, and you did, and that was that." Vanget shook his head. "Astonishing. It's one for the history books and I want you all to see what you can do to get griffin feathers and how your training measures up to Kel's. Think about the way those irregular Scanran units feint to harass us when we're in line against 'em— we've always ignored 'em unless they come closer than fifty yards, but wouldn't you like to answer 'em?" He smiled wryly at Kel. "I told you we were all scrambling to keep up, didn't I? Now it's offence as well as defence and immortals' treaties!"

"Oh pish, Vanget." Kel didn't feel the embarrassment she expected and saw others glance surprise, though whether she was inured to it or just less susceptible to Vanget than Wyldon, Raoul, or Alanna she wasn't sure. "I had a bounty of griffin feathers to play with and centaur fletchers. But there's no reason we can't ask griffins for moults, gods know there's enough centaurs who fletch, and after that it's just drill."

"And the guts to stand, Kel." Raoul was serious. "Those men must trust you completely,

and that doesn't come easy."

"Pish to you too, Raoul—where d'you suppose I learned that? I think the interesting thing's the stormwings, and besides the consideration that stormwing-fletched arrows are useful too I have ideas about that. How would you feel about stormwing auxiliaries?"

Stormwings were proving extremely useful, Kel thought, when she pushed them off to their rooms considerably later, and she'd meant what she said about being intrigued by Cloestra's egg. How did mothers keep hatchlings clean? And if they didn't, what would happen if someone did? In a strange way, despite Neal's and Yuki's baby and Sarralyn and all her nieces and nephews, Cloestra's maternity had made her want a child of her own more acutely. Not while war lasted, but nevertheless. Undressing for bed and staring at herself in the mirror, she put a hand on her stomach, trying to imagine, and the other on her restored breast, feeling it move as she snorted remembering Daine's expression when she'd asked about nursing problems. How would Tobe feel if she became pregnant? And how much would it matter to him if she wasn't married?

The thought startled and stayed in her mind as she lay in bed. When had she started to entertain it? Her memory drifted to the King mentioning heirs and assigns, and traced her slow acceptance of the idea of remaining at New Hope so long as she and it survived; making it her home as well as trying to make it everyone else's. Bringing up Tobe and Irnai here, with basilisk, ogre, and spidren playmates as well as mortal ones. She pulled herself back from imagining a cross-species university to take over where St'aara's schoolhouse left off with the thought that if she were to embrace a natural son she'd first have to embrace a man and that was as improbable as ever, however Dom made her heart beat and thoughts of his hands filled her with a melting sensation. Sighing she turned on her side and willed herself to sleep.

Next morning Kel saw the court martial established on the terrace before the shrines, Alanna, Raoul, and Svein reluctantly joining Wyldon and Vanget as mute observers. Gydo and other children were charged with refreshments and carrying messages, and Kel left them to it with a clear conscience. In brisk mode she set Numair consulting with Var'istaan, Kuriaju, and Petrin about the steps up the fin; persuaded a laughing Daine that St'aara's classes with young immortals would hold Sarralyn for an hour; and dragged the Wildmage to see Butter. Conscientiously ruthless, she overrode Dom's embarrassment, bluntly explaining the problem, inviting Peachblossom's and Alder's accounts, and boosting him onto Butter's back to demonstrate. Daine nodded.

"Can do." She looked at Dom. "Do you want him smarter generally, like Alder, or just to understand your injury in terms of leg pressure and movement commands?"

Dom swallowed. "I have enough trouble keeping up anyway, Godborn. But if he could understand commands despite lopsided pressure …"

"Alright."

Daine drew Butter's head down until her forehead rested on his muzzle. After a moment she had Dom demonstrate grip with his bad leg, and commands he wanted to use; after long minutes she straightened, patting Butter's jaw.

"It'll need practice, Dom, but he has the idea, and I'm here for some days so I can talk to

him again if necessary."

He flushed. "Thank you, Godborn. I can't …"

"Don't worry about it. I remember you in the Own, I know how much you helped Kel, and I'll do most anything for her. Just remember Butter's pushed beyond what should be his limits."

"I know that feeling, Godborn. I'll remember."

"It's just Daine. Kel, can we get Sarralyn and go see Quenuresh now? And Barzha? I want her to get used to all kinds of immortals."

The morning and lunchtime that followed were educational, not only for Sarralyn. Both Quenuresh and a surprisingly clean Barzha clearly had soft spots for the babe, and Sarralyn was equally entranced, gurgling and waving chubby hands as she was inspected lying on a blanket; if Kel even now felt it odd to see steel teeth in smiling mouths clucking over a six -week infant, it didn't stop her taking the chance to broach with Barzha the topic of stormwing feeding. As she had suspected, children's simpler emotions were very attractive though not nutritious—more an aroma than a meal; fear, apprehension, and the violent experiences of combat were richest, and circling above the Battle of Scything Wheat—a name that amused both immortals—had indeed been a feeding pattern, but any activity generating real fears might serve. Kel mentioned possibilities, asked a surprised Barzha to consider longer-term residence at New Hope, and brought up stormwings' attendance at funerals, requesting Daine to relay Barzha's account of the custom to the King. She asked if there were other lapsed immortal customs.

"Not for spidrens." Quenuresh sounded rueful. "But then we have never had much friendly interaction with mortals at all."

"Nor stormwings." Barzha looked thoughtful. "But you know of our effect on mortals when we mass. If you think that might serve at some juncture, ask. I make no promises."

"Mmm. Thank you. I'll think about that." Wilfully terrorising people wasn't an ambition unless they were the enemy, but no resource could be ignored so Kel continued talking to Barzha while Daine fed Sarralyn—much to the fascination of little spidrens who'd been peeking from the wood eaves and came forward at Quenuresh's resigned invitation. After Sarralyn's nap she and Daine headed back up valley in search of centaurs, but Kel had to leave Daine to it when a guard came to tell her the court martial requested her presence.

She arrived to see Rogal with a satisfied look and everyone tense. Her heart sank. Hiram of Blue Harbour, captain of Northwatch Third Company, was senior officer of the panel and greeted her.

"Lady Knight Commander, we have heard all witnesses, tested by truthspell, and have unanimously convicted Rogal, formerly of Tirrsmont, on all charges. The only possible sentence for wilful disobedience in the face of the enemy, and causing Sir Merric to fall, is death, and that we imposed—but after we did so Rogal declared himself a liegeman of Lord Carolan of Runnerspring, and his claim is confirmed by truthspell. I am advised by my Lord of Cavall, under whose authority we sit, that our proper action is to retain him in custody and remit to you our verdict and sentence, with his claim made after sentence was passed."

I am a lake. "You are telling me Rogal was oathsworn to the Lord of Runnerspring as well as to obedience here when he culpably pushed Sir Merric to his death?"

"Exactly so."

"Does Rogal claim assault on Sir Merric as duty to Runnerspring?"

"He does not. We asked him specifically on that point—he claims only that he is another's liegeman, and as such contends he is subject neither to your authority nor this court's. We disagree and consider our verdict and sentence lawful, but append his claim as you were unaware of it during the Commander's enquiry that brought charges."

"I see. Thank you, Captain Hiram." She saw Wyldon about to speak and held up a hand. "Perhaps you would excuse me a moment, my Lord."

The shrines offered no privacy today, and Cloestra occupied the other end of the terrace, so Kel went to where the spring bubbled into the cistern, letting the sound clear her mind. Rogal's claim was last ditch, plainly, but true. What that truth meant was another matter, though—having failed to make any claim of extended noble privilege despite having been asked repeatedly weighed against him, but more importantly he had made the claim only after being convicted— and the rules were clear about that. If he'd made it straight away she could still have preferred capital charges but the case would have gone straight to the King; as he hadn't, even Runnerspring in person could only ask her to pardon Rogal, not assert privilege. In effect the whole decision was thrown back on her: both Rogal's execution and, if Runnerspring extended privilege, his release would be lawful outcomes. Merric's ghost rose in her mind's eye, with the effects of either decision on New Hope; there was also the intriguing, legally irrelevant question of why a liegeman of Runnerspring's had been under arms at Tirrsmont; most critically, there was the principle embodied in the oath Rogal had sworn to secure admission to New Hope and the need for it to be enforceable. She hardened her heart and went back to the court martial.

"Captain Hiram, may I ask Rogal a question?"

"Of course."

"Rogal of Runnerspring, will you explain why you, a liegeman of a lord whose domain is a month's ride from here, were present at Tirrsmont, and why you did not claim this allegiance before?"

"It's my Lord's business, not yours."

"On the contrary. By delaying your claim until after the court martial's verdict you set aside any issue of noble privilege. Understand clearly—I can enforce the capital sentence of this court, or release you. And I will hear your claim for release only if it includes a full statement of what you were doing at Tirrsmont and why you came here."

He stared. "You're mad—I'm my Lord's man. You can't touch me."

"Wrong again. Last chance."

"Don't be stupid, woman—I'm privileged from this army nonsense."

"No, you aren't. You swore to harm none at New Hope, you broke your oath, killing a far better man than yourself in malice and stupidity, and to me that's all that matters. Captain Hiram, I decline to grant Rogal any remission of sentence on the basis of his oath to Runnerspring. If Lord Carolan were to ask me to respect noble privilege on Rogal's behalf I should refuse, as would be my right, and the court found him guilty as lawfully charged and passed capital sentence. I see no purpose in delay."

He nodded slowly. "Very well, Lady Knight Commander."

The rest of the proceedings were grim, and Rogal had to be gagged before Hiram could confirm verdict and sentence, and remit the prisoner to New Hope's custody pending execution. Once Rogal had been frogmarched away, Vanget and Wyldon came up to Kel.

"You're sure?" Vanget was blunt. "It's an unholy complication." "Do you have any doubt I'm acting legally, Vanget?"

"None. Even if he'd claimed privilege at your enquiry the oath he swore to you would hold up. And not claiming privilege until after the verdict was stupid in the extreme, if he could have done so to begin with. But Runnerspring will be furious, and protest execution violently."

"So? He hates me already. I'll make sure he's sent a copy of the full record—my Lord and Lady of Hollyrose too. I promised to let them know the result of the court martial. Let Runnerspring explain why his man's actions should have been forgiven. I'm not going to explain why they were when they needn't have been."

"You're clear in your mind, Keladry? There will be a fuss."

"I am, Wyldon. Bluntly, my judgement is that unless I uphold the validity of the oath Rogal swore when he sought admission here I'd cause a far bigger problem than Runnerspring, not only for myself. If I pardon Rogal what's to stop anyone who was once a liegeman and has sworn the army oath claiming exemption from the consequences of breaking it?"

Vanget grunted. "I asked myself that. Give way once and we'd have to check every time with lords all over the country. Wyldon?"

"Yes. I don't like any of it—what was Runnerspring's man doing at Tirrsmont? It makes no sense—but Keladry's right. Rogal was under authority, wilfully killed Sir Merric, has been fairly tried and sentenced, and ought to pay. The proceedings have been clear, consistent, and open, the claim of privilege is irrelevant, and when that death sentence comes to me I shall endorse it and pass it to you."

"And I'm not commuting it, so there we are. Gods, what a mess. The King has to be informed but I doubt he'll interfere. Do you have a headsman, Kel?"

"No, but I shall appoint one under Wartime Regulation 119."

Both men's eyes lost focus, and they grunted simultaneously.

"Yes, that's proper, Keladry." Wyldon sighed. "Do you know who?"

"Me. Shall appoint themselves or whoever better fitted they may select, it says, and there's no-one better fitted. Don't protest, please. I'm not going to order anyone to do what I won't myself, I've prayed to the Black God about it, and my mind's made up." Wyldon looked thunderous and Kel considered him with distant affection. "Don't worry, Wyldon—it's proper, and my conscience can bear it."

They did protest, as did Raoul and Alanna. To Kel's surprise Svein strongly approved, commending her courage, and to the others she was adamant, despite her clenching stomach at the thought of what she was letting herself in for. For all the executions she'd seen, in Yaman and with the Own, she'd never found one less than hateful, but did believe some crimes warranted death, including Rogal's, and the rest followed inexorably. She supposed when New Hope became a fief it would need a Provost and Dogs, and with them would come a headsman, but until then responsibility was hers alone. Raoul knew how she felt about executions and was especially concerned, advancing arguments even he knew held no water, but in the end subsided, still

muttering. Alanna, interestingly, gave up arguing sooner, and seemed resigned.

Given the previous night's conversation Kel had rearranged the practice schedule, and was able to restore a more cheerful feel to things by taking them to observe. She and Brodhelm had pushed hard on accuracy at middle distance, and when people were at their weapon's limit allowed practice shots with a griffin arrow so they knew how much it improved their aim. They had also assiduously practiced firing by ranks as well as alternating fire from the crenels, and the squads who'd been at Scything Wheat, ordered in a treble rank, were able, in less than fifteen seconds, to put one hundred griffin arrows into a score of bulls stretched across the barracks nearly one-hundred -and-fifty yards away. She'd had the targets thickened with old straw and only a few arrows were damaged.

"I wouldn't vouch for accuracy if cavalry were traversing at that range—but if they're coming head on it's just elevation."

Svein was thoughtful. "It's practice with griffin arrows that impresses me, Keladry—I've never had more than few available, but I can see how much it matters."

"It does. I'm already buying all our centaurs can make, and we're manufacturing our own with moulted feathers the griffins bring. You can get two arrows from each feather if you're careful, and I can let each of you have a dozen as a start if you've a fletcher who knows what to do. We have some stormwing retrices too, but those are tricky."

"What cuts them, Kel?" Alanna was genuinely curious.

"Basilisk obsidian, but I can't manage it on my own yet—you need someone to hold the feather down against its natural spring. And carefully—the barbs will slice anything."

"You fletch?"

"I learned as a child in Yaman and took it up again when I got that sack of feathers for looking after Junior."

"I'd forgotten that." Raoul scratched his head. "I've a good fletcher at Steadfast but no griffins. A dozen feathers is a generous offer and I'll take it, but we're talking about hundreds. Any ideas?"

"Daine and the King. If the griffins near Corus are invited to attend courts there … well, Daine says they don't care about moulted feathers, any more than horses about hair they shed, so a deal should be possible. Enough for a few hundred arrows for each major fort—and if the custom gets established more each season."

The demonstration and hope made everyone brighter despite the shadow of the day, and the meal was easier than Kel had feared. She invited Hiram and officers who'd sat with him, now moved to proper barracks accommodation, to dine with the commanders, and afterwards made the announcement everyone was expecting. The fact of execution, and a date the following week, were received with grim approval, as she'd known they would be; the reaction to her self-appointment as headsman worried her more, but in the event surprised her. It was Uinse who stood to ask, obviously thinking it might be his duty to find one, and when she told him what she proposed his face went still before he bowed, profoundly—at which every adult had risen to do the same. When she sat Wyldon considered her with that odd look.

"You do know your people, don't you, Keladry? And they know you."

She wasn't sure what he meant but he wouldn't elaborate, and refused her general

invitation to come back to her quarters, pleading paperwork, as did Vanget. Alanna went to see Neal and Yuki—or the baby—and Raoul wanted a chat with Daine, so Kel wound up giving Svein the tour she'd not been able to give him when he'd arrived. It was the first time she'd done it by night, moonlight silvering spikes in the killing field and etching shadows across the main level. The view from the lookout post was breathtaking, and though rockfalls were now covered in a fast-growing weed Adner had recommended with distaste they stood out from this angle and distance.

"It's a remarkable place, Keladry. I'll be frank—I was as pleased as anyone by news of Rathhausak but thought it a fluke. But what I see, and Scything Wheat, tells another story." He gave a crooked smile that made his face charming. "Uline told me you were good people and so far as she could tell a real commander, but Ortien was more worried about nobles who oppose you until last Midwinter, when he changed his tune."

"You're close to them?"

"More to Uline. I'm a decade older but spent summers as a boy looking after them, and in Corus I've stayed with Ortien and Orie once or twice since they married. It seems a good match."

"Ortien was certainly pleased by my parents' elevation." Kel's voice was dry. "Once he got over the shock. But he doesn't at all know what to make of his peculiar sister-in-law."

"I shouldn't think he does. Forgive me, you must be used to that."

"I don't know I am. Merovec copes better though he thinks too politically for my liking. I've barely met Gavin haMinch, and seen very little of Vorinna or Tilaine in a decade. I grant their letters tend to the bemused but they're affectionate. Toshuro I haven't seen for ages but as a Yamani he had no problem with my warrior training." She shrugged. "I just wish Ortien was … I don't know … franker. He always seems to be waiting to see which way I'll jump before he'll say anything."

"Mmm. He's like that with anyone he respects. His father's, um, very definite in his opinions. But he's a decent man, Keladry. And it's hard to imagine what you've done here without seeing it."

Kel smiled faintly. "You think I should invite him and Orie?"

"After the war, yes—get as many people as possible to visit. They'll leave very thoughtful —as I will."

The conversation unsettled her and she was glad when Svein excused himself to visit the shrines. Time with Tobe was welcome, as was heartening news of Dom's rapid progress and elation as fighting control of Butter began to return. Once she'd tucked her son into bed there was the distilled report Vanget wanted, and the labour of crafting clean, concise descriptions lulled her into working late.

Next morning the conference began, and the day was taken up with painstaking presentations by Vanget's staffers of events along the whole front from Frasrlund to Eastwatch since the thaw. The picture that emerged was curiously sparse, a lot of minor incursions by small groups more intent on raiding barns and livestock than fighting, but nothing larger than the force Kel had beaten at Scything Wheat. It was suggestive and the first confirmation of what was happening came in late afternoon from Svein.

"My chief concern's a Scanran fort ten miles inside their border—a natural strong point." He indicated on a map. "This little triangle of Scanran territory west of the Grimholds is isolated

and unimportant—Gallan and Tusaine trade runs further north to avoid the mountains—but the fort's had a small company resident since the war began. They're army men, not irregulars, and while they don't attack anything much they cross the Vassa often enough that I have to do everything in reasonable force. But just after Samradh their captain showed up carrying a truce flag, and offered local peace if I could supply grain and vegetables. He said he thought he and his men had been forgotten and despite urgent letters hadn't had any food supplies at all this year, so they needed to hunt full time. I thought he had a nerve but was sincere and being reasonable by his lights, so after consulting General Vanget I agreed. We'll see what happens, but he swore he'd notify me if he felt he had to go to an active posture again."

Vanget nodded. "The same thing happened with another isolated Scanran fort in the eastern Grimholds, and I'm guessing one reason the army at Frasrlund withdrew was difficulty feeding it. Maggur holds his main army, Hamrkeng, and his hostages, but his logistics are slipping."

"Only at the edges." Raoul was scowling. "I suppose it's good news but I don't like the implications. We're spread out to cope with dispersed attacks and occasional heavier punches, not deal with one big army. It's better in that if we could beat that army solidly we'd be done, but being in the right place to fight it when it comes ..."

"Exactly. And though I'm inclined to think Scything Wheat's a sign Maggur wants New Hope for more than strategic reasons, which would fit with that wretched prophecy, I can't justify concentrating forces without much more solid knowledge."

Numair shifted unhappily. "Daine came north mostly to do what she can to improve information again, and she's determined to fly over Scanra, but I'm sorry, she won't be able to stay."

"I know, Numair." Vanget was gloomy. "But anything's welcome."

Kel sat forward. "Could she ask her owls and hawks—birds that can cover distances—to watch for large troop movements? And report to the nearest fort with spellmirrors? It should give us warning of any concentration big enough that we need to respond."

"Maybe." Numair frowned. "How many troops? And report how? Those birds can't give a scouting report to anyone but Daine."

"Can they recognise 'five hundred plus'? And ring a bell? One of those hanging ones, with a little chain on the clapper. Any forge can make one, there'd only be one in each place, no ordinary bird'll ring it by accident, and any sentry would recognise the sign."

He brightened. "That sounds possible. I can ask her."

Others nodded, Vanget among them. "Excellent, Kel. Please do that, Numair—any warning of that army on the march could be invaluable. Now the other thing is when Maggur might be able to move it out of Hamrkeng, and frankly I don't know. I was sure after last year's lull he'd come in the spring, but he hasn't, and thanks to Sir Myles we have some idea why— trouble at home. He seems to have survived, again, and still has an iron grip on real power, but whether he can get himself in the field this year—or wants to—is anyone's guess. Weren has what little we know about what's been happening."

The staffer's account was detailed, and as Kel listened, watching the long northern twilight begin, she could guess how it had been put together from piecemeal low-level observation. The source of Maggur's trouble had been two northern clanchiefs whose men he'd been heavily conscripting, and the troops he'd had to send from Hamrkeng accounted in part for withdrawal

from Frasrlund. There was a closing nugget about his rage when the fake refugees he'd sent to New Hope returned with Kel's message, and a rumour he'd sworn even more vengeance on her than when he'd first seen her report. She frowned.

"When did you say those Scanrans got back to Hamrkeng, Weren?"

"Ah … our report suggested the first week of June, my Lady. It only came in ten days

ago."

"Then they took their own sweet time. We escorted them over the Vassa on … March twentieth, so they took more than two months to cover, what? four hundred miles? It doesn't make sense unless they were dragging their feet, but what does is Maggur swearing vengeance in the first week of June and Scything Wheat in the last. Say three or four days to decide and pull those men together, two weeks or so to get here, depending on where and how they crossed the Vassa. Stanar and the other prisoners might be able to fill in some of that."

"Mmm. And if it was a hotheaded reaction with a loyal hothead put in charge because his experienced commanders had been sent north …" Vanget's fingers drummed. "It does seem to fit, and might explain their poor tactics. The armies we fought last year and the year before had better sense. Still, we should have something from those Scanrans tonight, and I'll have that pulled together for tomorrow. I also want to turn to a different set of questions about Maggur—political ones—but let's call it a day. I can hear weapons practice starting and I'd like to observe again— regular routine rather than that impressive show last night, Kel, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Glaives and slings tonight, so I should take glaive class myself. Yuki's filling in for me, but finds it tiring still." She grinned at Wyldon. "Let's see if you remember what I taught you at Midwinter."

He did and had clearly been practicing, though Kel took pleasure in finding him quite well matched with the best of the women she'd been training. If Wyldon had had his sword there'd have been no contest, but any Scanran inexperienced against a glaive who faced one of those women stood a good chance of dying. Kel was also working on fighting in groups—if the worst came a glaive squad might cover retreat to the caves; it would also enable them to act as guard squads. Slingwork was improving, and the thwap of stones against targets from fifty yards induced military thoughtfulness. Alanna was as impressed as anyone but asked how Kel was keeping up her own swordwork and cajoled her into a bout.

Kel was guiltily aware she had been skimping but found she could give Alanna a run for her money. Her size and reach gave her an advantage but Alanna was lightning fast with a very wide repertoire and no bad habits. Encouraged by Neal's shouts of 'Youth and skill!' vying against Raoul's 'Age and treachery!', as well as Alanna's taunts of having been lazy with her blade while pursuing use of pig-stickers, Kel moved onto the offensive and managed to press Alanna before she over-extended and the Lioness slipped past to swat her across the behind with the flat of her sword. They squared up again but a gate guard came.

"Sorry to interrupt, Lady Kel, but there's a basilisk heading for the roadway. Amiir'aan says it's the one called Tkaa."

"Tkaa? What's he doing here?"

Daine, who'd been watching, looked concerned. "I've no idea—he was heading to Corus with Kit."

By the time they reached the gatehouse Tkaa was declaring name and amity under the lintel, and seeing Daine's frown shook his head.

"All is well with Skysong, Daine. I was met by a King's Messenger south of Trebond, and he took over escorting her. I bear messages, one for Alanna and one for you all."

"For me? From George?"

Tkaa nodded, and took Alanna aside, whisper dropping to a pitch no-one else could hear. Kel saw Alanna grip his paws, face intent, and turn away with the set face that meant she didn't want to talk to anyone. Tkaa looked after her for a moment and came over.

"Please tell me that was good news, Tkaa." Raoul kept his voice low. "She's been jumpy all summer."

"I sorrow to hear it." How could a whisper be so bland? "My other news should be given to the commanders here in private."

"Come to my rooms." Kel led the way, following Alanna to the headquarters building but not trying to catch her. Walking beside Tkaa she glanced up at him and spoke in a murmur. "Rajmuat?"

"Yes. George has already taken ship."

"Good."

Tkaa's bulk filled the stairway, and with him as well as six people in her sitting room it seemed small, and the basilisk very close.

"The core of the news is simple. Scanran ambassadors have arrived in Corus with offers of peace." Tkaa's manner was not joyful.

"On what terms?" Vanget asked the question on all minds.

"Unacceptable ones. The marriage of Princess Lianne to King Maggur, surrender of Lady Keladry, joint rule of the City of the Gods."

"What?" Raoul had gone red. "They can't be serious."

"The King agrees, but believes these demands an aggressive opening position, though he said they seemed strangely nervous for ambassadors making demands. What is truly on offer, if anything, he does not know. Nor does he understand what Maggur intends." Tkaa looked at Kel. "He asked me to tell you directly that he will never agree to surrender any Tortallan, and that if you offer to sacrifice yourself he will be cross."

Kel let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Well, that's good to know." Perhaps oddly she hadn't doubted the King in this, but thought his logic would have been more political than moral. "How did these Scanrans get to Corus? By sea, or through Galla and Tusaine?"

"Galla and Tusaine."

"So they went further south than they needed. Did they by any chance come with a Genlith trade convoy from Cría?"

Tkaa's look was sharp, as was Vanget's. "They did, Keladry. The Lord of Genlith escorted them to Corus. How did you guess?"

"It's a long story and it was scheduled for tomorrow. Vanget?"

"I think it still is—I want the Lioness here and everyone fresh to think about that. Can you stay, Tkaa?"

"I can, though I should report to the King if Numair could oblige?"

"Of course, but do that tomorrow, when we've a fuller picture. There's a court martial sentence to report too."

There was no meeting after dinner, from which Alanna was conspicuously absent. Returning to her rooms Kel listened at the guest room door, but a snore told her the Lioness was asleep and she went to continue her report on Scything Wheat.

After breakfast next morning the conference reassembled, Tkaa and Daine joining them; Sarralyn was again left in St'aara's care. Tkaa repeated the news for Alanna's benefit, and after some discussion enlivened by her descriptions of Maggur's ancestry and personal habits Vanget asked Numair magically to seal the room and nodded to Kel.

"Mostly I have old questions that bother me and no clear answers, but something happened to stir them up. Forgive me if this seems an odd place to start. Numair, you had to examine several killing devices. Could you say how you believe they were made—in as much detail as possible?"

He frowned. "Alright, Kel. Let's see. The basic structure was made of giants' bones— shins, thighs, pelvis, spine, and arm bones—coated in metal. I'm not sure how that was done, but the bones must have been boiled clean and metal applied magically or in molten form. They were inscribed with runes that helped hold them together, and strung with heavy wire that ran where the marrow would have been and worked round little cogs and pulleys, configuration depending on joint. The knives at knees, elbows, and limb ends swivelled on little bars within a case, and each had two thinner wires to pull it one way or another. A metal box in the chest was the most complicated part—full of gears and lever systems that controlled the arms and legs. Those in turn were magically controlled through a conduit from the head—which was metal, hollow behind the jaw structure, with a necromantic spell fixed by runes that contained and controlled the murdered children's spirits."

"How much iron wire and how many cogs and pulleys per device?"

"I'm not sure. Counting the chest box several dozen cogs and pulleys, and … I don't know, a hundred feet of wire at least. More, probably—and in three or more widths. There were multiple strands running the length of each limb, with shorter sections controlling each set of knives, and the connections to the chest box and the head."

"Thank you. So to make one device Blayce needed, as well as a child to murder, to get a set of bones, coat them, string them together, and make and fit wires, knives, cogs and pulleys, chest box, and head. My question is how he did all that?" She counted on her fingers. "Giants' bones, yes—we know there are more giants the further north you go, and though I hope for their sake Maggur found a giants' graveyard of some kind rather than killing fresh there's no basic problem with that supply." She didn't add her thought that for giants' bones all had been on the small side, more like children's than adults'. "And coating them with metal, yes—there was a room at Rathhausak off Blayce's workshop that had uncoated and coated bones, with a large tank,

some smaller ones, and a pile of iron ingots, so I assume that's where that bit happened, and that room burned with the keep."

A second finger went up. "Nor is there a problem with the knives, though the ones I saw were of better quality than most Scanran swords, and many of their best weapons are stolen from Yaman. But let's say the killing devices were a priority."

Finger number three. "What's much more problematical is the other metalwork. There were seven completed devices with open headdomes at Rathhausak and a few cases of wire and parts, which we left to melt, but nothing like enough for the devices he'd have made with our children. There was a farrier's smithy but neither finework nor forging could have been done there —no wire-drawing plates or bored gemstones and only a small stock of ingots. So where was it done? The Scanrans aren't fools but they don't have anything like our metalworking capacity, and we're talking about a lot of very high quality work. Collating reports, there were at least two-hundred-and-fifty devices put into the field against us, so at Numair's low estimate that's more than five miles of wire as well as thousands of cogs assembled into complex units. And another two hundred planned. I don't believe Scanra has the capacity to manufacture any of that, certainly not at the rate suggested by the dates when children round Rathhausak were taken and killing devices reported in the field. So where did the metalwork come from?"

She looked around their faces. "Yaman has the capacity but no love for Scanra, and it couldn't be done without the emperor's permission—metalworking is controlled and gemstones for pulling high quality wire very much so. Carthak's similar, as best I understand, and a lot further away. In either case we'd be considering calculated treachery breaching treaties sealed by marriage, and I see no reason to suspect that. The Copper Isles is another story. The Rittevons have no love for us and a recent history of Scanran alliance, but that was with Ozorne marshalling them and they're not called the Copper Isles for nothing—they import their iron from Carthak. It's not impossible but not likely. And unless we're supposing Maggur got what he needed far afield —Maren or beyond Sarain—that leaves Galla, Tusaine, and Tyra. They might have the capacity and be willing, and I can't rule them out, but while they do make metals for themselves it's ordinary stuff and they don't seem to produce much wire or fine metalwork, let alone export it in quantity. I've asked merchants, traders, armourers, smiths, and immortals as well as every resource I could in Corus, and all said the same—high quality wire and complicated metalwork in large quantities? Yamani, Carthaki, or Tortallan business. And our trade is centred on Stone Mountain. Besides the quarrying that gave it its name, it's iron ore and processed ingots that have made that fief rich, and Genlith is the factor in that trade."

She held up a hand as mouths opened. "Bear with me. You can all guess why I'd be very careful about making accusations, and I'm not. I can't prove any of it, and I have personal reason to dislike the lords of those fiefs, but I still have a nagging question to which I can't see another logical answer. And two other points occur, circumstantial but suggestive. Blayce Younger was a Gallan, and what records of him Sir Myles found indicate his family was in trade on the Tusaine– Tortall route. General goods, but also metalwork. And both lords in question became extremely unhappy not just with me but with the King and Tortallan law following Joren's trial in 457, his death at Midwinter 458, and Vinson's failure in the same season. In Stone Mountain's case, deranged by grief. There's also the consideration that after his trial for rape early in 459 Vinson was sentenced to the mines, but vanished when the wagon train taking him north was attacked. No-one knows who was responsible, and Vinson hadn't been seen since, but Thayet told me she and the King were convinced Genlith or Stone Mountain hired it done—and if either or both did they crossed the boundary into wilful treason at least six months before the first killing device was reported."

Kel looked around, seeing troubled looks on every face, even Vanget's, who had known what was coming, and Tkaa's, though no-one unfamiliar with basilisks would have known it.

"Does anyone have any factual objection or more plausible answer to the question of where fine metalwork and wiring for the killing devices came from?"

Tkaa half-raised a paw. "I have no factual objection, Keladry, but there are possible sources in the Divine Realms. Given the gods' attitudes to necromancy I cannot believe it likely, but it is not beyond imagining. Nor is immortal work—centaurs are fine smiths."

Numair shook his head. "Everything I saw was mortal work. I'd have recognised god- or centaur-work—their smiths use magic as well as hammers, and there was no trace of any magic save Blayce's."

Raoul stirred. "Kel, did I hear you say Vinson hadn't been seen?"

Kel smiled mirthlessly. "Oh yes. The reason the enquiry record ends suddenly with my unfinished remarks is that we had a very odd visit. A clean-shaven Scanran with a spyglass, accompanied by a hooded man and a hard -bitten escort, twenty strong. Because everyone was at the enquiry fields were deserted, and they came within four hundred yards of the glacis for spyglass man to quarter our defences. I wasn't having that, and while a sally squad were getting ready the hooded man came closer, so I took a shot from the alure." She looked at Daine. "I used the bow your da gave me, with a griffin-and-stormwing fletched arrow in case he was a mage, and hit him squarely in the back of the neck."

"What range?" Daine sounded genuinely curious.

"Just over a thousand feet."

There were whistles and Daine grinned. "Da makes good bows."

"He surely does, and I've given him thanks for it. But the point is the others took off, Mikal fetched the body in, and wherever Vinson might have been since 458 he's now in a sealed coffin in the coldest part of the cave system."

Alanna looked at Kel, eyes hard. "No possible doubt?"

"None. He was freshly dead, face unmarked, and Seaver, Neal, and I all saw him. Vinson had a birthmark on his stomach they knew about, and that was there. It didn't change under the Honesty Gate, and Quenuresh said categorically the body wasn't magicked or what she called a simulacrum, which I gather is a magical copy." Numair, Daine, and Alanna all nodded. "His horse bolted and he had no papers, but he was wearing this." She took from her pocket a small box and passed it round. "His heir's ring—and that's interesting because if he was wearing it when convicted and usual rules applied, it would have been confiscated with personal items and clothing. Uinse tells me it's inconceivable he could have had it in the wagon train of convicts. But if he wasn't wearing it he must have had contact with his family since escaping. His cloak and hood were rough and in Zerhalm's opinion of Scanran make, but his inner clothing was very fine quality." Kel shrugged. "I still can't prove a thing about treason, but I can prove there's been contact between the heir of Genlith, a convicted felon, and Maggur's army. Add that to the question about metalwork and I don't like the answers."

Nor did anyone, and Kel met Vanget's eyes as Alanna, Raoul, and Wyldon reacted as he'd predicted—vocal outrage, less vocal fuming, and largely silent pain. Daine and Numair said nothing, but after a few moments Tkaa spoke.

"The King must be informed."

Vanget nodded. "He will be, Tkaa, as soon as we're done. Go on, Kel."

"There's more?" Raoul's face was tight.

"Several things, I'm afraid. One's logical, the other a side question that may intersect. Logic first. Assume Genlith is treasonous, wants to bring down the House of Conté, and sees Maggur as an opportunity. At some point, perhaps through Blayce's connections, he gets involved in supplying wire and finework to Maggur. Maybe he knew what it was for, maybe he didn't. Either way, he must have known when the killing devices were reported, and didn't stop, so he's serious. Then came Rathhausak and the Scanran advantage was eliminated. So what might he and Maggur be doing to create another? Or put another way, does Maggur have access to Tortallan metalwork and whatever information Genlith can gather, on his own account or through Stone Mountain's access to Council papers?" Everyone looked extremely unhappy. "As a secondary question, does this help to explain why Scanran ambassadors, travelling via Genlith, are demanding me and access to the City of the Gods, which is full of mages? Did those ambassadors give reasons, Tkaa?"

"Not that the King mentioned, Keladry. I had assumed it was because of your destruction of Rathhausak."

"It probably is. But it might be worth pushing. And what about the City of the Gods? I doubt Maggur wants a lot of Mithran priests. It also strikes me nervous ambassadors may know they're out on a limb, and making unacceptable demands is a stalling tactic. But if they're buying time—and gods know they might be given how little's been happening on the border—what are they buying it for?"

After a silence Raoul shrugged. "It's a good question, Kel, but who can tell? We can't interrogate ambassadors."

"Of course not. But I did wonder, Tkaa, if those ambassadors might at some point be offered a tour of the sights—such as our Chamber of the Ordeal. The King could have a word with the elemental beforehand."

Alanna whooped. "Kel, that is superbly sneaky. They could hardly refuse and wouldn't even know their minds had been read."

Vanget was smiling for the first time that morning. "Yes, it is good, and you've thought it up fast. Congratulations, Kel. We've all had the information for the same time and that's a lot better than anything I've come up with. But add the last thing, and your wish list."

She shrugged. "This one may be a separate issue, and it may be nothing or it may not. Svein, you know what happened to me last year, and that I met the Black God?"

He looked acutely uncomfortable. "I heard, yes."

"Well, one of the things he said was, I quote, the tauroses that assailed you had been touched by Uusoae when she conspired with Ozorne, and with others of their kind were in service to King Maggur. Does that mean other tauroses? Chaos-touched tauroses? Or other Chaos-touched immortals? I've prayed but had no answer, despite the general responsiveness of the gods when I ask things, so perhaps we're supposed to be guessing. But there's one more fact, which is that in Quenuresh's opinion the mage shielding the tauroses with illusion spells didn't have the juice to control them for longer than a few weeks, so there must have been another mage involved."

Numair scowled blackly. "I can confirm the tauroses were Chaos-touched—I had a look at the skulls and can still sense it, faintly. I saw chaos vents in the Divine Realms and the feel is very distinctive. Any other magic had been cleared by boiling, and we don't know of any strong mage

siding with Maggur. But when this first came up with Kel's report last summer I did point out to the King that several of Ozorne's mages remain unaccounted for, including at least three red robes and five yellows. The inner circle all died at the Palace that night, and Kaddar's accounted for a dozen more in the years since, but not all. And for what it's worth, one of the missing is Gissa of Rachne, a red robe who was involved at Dunlath, not so far from Scanra, and certainly knew spells for controlling immortals."

Kel shrugged. "Daine told me about her and her mechanical hand. But the point is there has to be at least one serious mage available to Maggur, as well as, if I'm right, our smithying capacity. It may be too late, but I want Sir Myles to try to find out what trade might be going into Scanra north of you, Svein, on the Drell or the summer route north of the Grimholds. The severe winter meant it was closed longer than usual, and that may be a factor in this delay. And I've asked immortals, including the griffins, to do anything they can to find out if immortals are likely to attack us, Chaos-touched or otherwise. They don't know of any except giants and maybe a herd of flesh-eating centaurs Whitelist knows were in Scanra a few years back. But they wouldn't necessarily know about immortals they don't associate with—hurroks especially."

"So there we have it." Vanget drummed fingers. "One ugly fact—Vinson—and several ugly questions needing investigation. Is Genlith a traitor? Are supplies going to Maggur from Tortall, and if so how do we stop them? I wonder about food—if he's running short he may be buying, so is more than usual going up the Drell or north from Cría? Is this delay more deliberate than we've been thinking, and why? Are the ambassadors part of it? Are they building something, and what? Does Maggur have some force he's waiting to use?" He threw up his hands. "Too many questions and no prospect of answers, but we can thrash it over and come up with a list of things to do."

It took most of the day and Kel was happier at the end of it, but not much. Scrying and spies, with the mercantile network, might provide answers about trade happening now, in particular whether Tortallan grain was going north and if there was unusual Gallan traffic with Scanra. Messages would be sent to Yaman and Carthak to request checks there, in case someone disliked their emperors sufficiently to become involved in forbidden trade with Scanra. The elemental of the Chamber might glean information from the ambassadors, if it was willing and depending on what they knew. The killing device displayed in Corus could be re-examined by senior smithcraft mages to see if there was any way of identifying where wires and cogs had been made. And Daine would ask birds to look for unusual construction but didn't hold out much hope —the abstract thinking needed to recognise the unusual and the potential threat of components was beyond them, and while a specific site, once found, could be investigated closely, scouting from the air was good for finding troops but not what was happening inside a building. None of her animals had been able to find Blayce, and this was vaguer.

Vanget called a halt in late afternoon, but only so they could retire to Kel's sitting room and use the hearth to contact the King, whose initially pleased expression went from annoyed to thunderous to cold remoteness as he listened. Scything Wheat was well received, and the Scanrans could remain at New Hope if Kel was happy for them to do so. In the matter of Rogal he checked legal points carefully, wanting the exact wording of the oath Rogal had sworn and to be read portions of the records, but after several moments' hard thought declined to interfere, as Vanget had predicted, though he would enquire of Lord Carolan what in Tortall he thought he'd been doing placing a liegeman-at-arms silently in another fief. News of Vinson's death was abstractly satisfying but its nature, place, and the company he'd been keeping, with the Genlith ring on his finger, were concrete problems he liked no more than anyone, and the possibility of treason on the scale that might be involved was bleak. Body and ring were to be sent under guard to Corus, and the only thing that brought a smile to the King's face was Kel's suggestion about showing the Scanran ambassadors the Chamber.

"Now that I will do with pleasure, Keladry. I should have thought of it myself. The elemental was very helpful when I spoke to it after the Midwinter ordeals, but I don't think about it as practically as you." He shook his head. "I'll speak to it tonight. It'll take a while to set up, though—several days. And I agree the ambassadors are stalling so they ought to know something. We'll see. As for the rest … I'll speak to Sir Myles tonight, and get smith mages looking at that metalwork. The notes to Yaman and Carthak. And I'll scry, of course, but it's a thankless task."

Alanna nodded. "Isn't it? It didn't help us at all with … that other thing. How are the negotiations, Jon? They can't have expected you to agree to any of those demands."

"They've dropped the demand for Lianne's hand, and watered down the City of the Gods to requiring we make mages available to help them become more self-sufficient generally and less in need of Tortallan wealth and territory. It's not a stupid idea, or it wouldn't be if it wasn't Maggur on the Bloody Throne, but while he's there I'm not doing anything to strengthen them. And they're still demanding your head, Keladry, for Rathhausak. No, don't make me cross—I've told them every time they mention it that it's out of the question and that I demand Maggur's head as a minimum reparation."

"I wasn't going to be self-sacrificing, sire—only to ask if they've mentioned anything other than Rathhausak."

"What sort of thing?"

"Freja Haraldsdottir or her son? The message I sent Maggur with those other Scanrans? Or Runnerspring's line about unnatural women?"

"No, none of those. Runnerspring's not here—he stomped back to his fief in high dudgeon when I wouldn't rescind his son's banishment from court. And from what you've said about timing I'd think the message must have arrived after these ambassadors had left."

"Scything Wheat must have been after they'd arrived in Corus."

His image straightened. "Gods, that's true. What day was it?"

"The twenty-eighth."

"Then yes, they arrived the day before Samradh, so that attack was a breach of good

faith."

"Or just a unilateral grab for one of his demands."

"Either way it gives me a lever. Congratulations again on that victory. And the shot to kill Vinson. I look forward to your reports and expect I'll eventually feel more grateful about the rest of your thinking, but I'm afraid right now it's too much like bad news."

Kel didn't drop her eyes. "I'm sorry that's so, sire, but we need to face this. And it adds some weight, maybe, to the interpretation of that prophecy that thinks the next battle here has to be decisive. So all we have to do is win it—and not get stabbed in the back."

He nodded. "I did the right thing when I made you a Councillor. And now I must talk to Sir Myles. General Vanget, contact me again, please, before you leave for Northwatch."

The image vanished and the flames died, leaving ashes and embers, and unanswered questions.


	20. Chapter 18

Forgiveness

Chapter Eighteen — Forgiveness

7 July – 15 August

With the front quiet and spellmirror links to Northwatch and Mastiff the commanders stayed days longer than Kel expected, and though they joked about the excellent food and continued to observe training closely she knew they were waiting on Rogal's execution. She had seen him to tell him his sentence had been confirmed by Wyldon and Vanget, and that the King declined to intervene, offering him access to the shrines, but received only curses. She would have liked to get on with it but the week-long delay was traditional and she was left to steady her mind as best she could, at the Black God's shrine and elsewhere.

Fortunately there were more distractions than mounting standards taken at Scything Wheat and despatching Vinson to Corus with Jacut, who appreciated a redeemed felon escorting an escaped one. The corral drawbridge was articulated; even after petrification of the portcullis into a dense greeny-black rock additional counterweights were needed, but once balance was found bridge and barrier rose and descended easily; with the outlet sough completed and moat filled Kel contemplated the gatehouse with intense satisfaction. Geraint basked in gruff praise from Wyldon and Vanget, and went pink when Alanna threw him a salute and a grinning thumbs-up. Only the gatehouse roof, part of the inner wall of the killing field, and internal work on the buildings remained, and squads were reassigned to haul stone from the tunnel and work on its internal defensive positions.

Questioning the prisoners elicited confirmation of the hothead theory; the core of the attack had been a mounted company led by a Maggur loyalist long stationed in Hamrkeng, to which whoever could be rounded up had been suddenly attached. More importantly to Kel, the prisoners, after heated debate, agreed to extend their oaths and work in fields and woodshops as long as they weren't expected to fight against countrymen or undertake military tasks; when alarms sounded they would restrict themselves to barracks. It was a new arrangement for everyone; Kel held the final negotiation before the shrines so everyone knew what was agreed, and there were fewer objections than she'd anticipated. These Scanrans hadn't killed anyone at New Hope, most were craftsmen and farmers, their conscription or coercion was understood, they'd respectfully attended Merric's funeral, and extra hands were welcome. For their own part they were bemused by New Hope, fascinated by immortals, and though worried about kin believed strongly that staying put offered them the best chance of surviving the war; Kel's destruction of Rathhausak had given her a Scanran reputation she was trying to absorb that was for Stanar and others whose clans Maggur had smashed a potent attraction. Vanget tended to shake his head when he saw them going off to the fields chatting with New Hopers or walking the main level unguarded, but more in wonder than disapproval; Svein was the same, but after a few days Kel realised Alanna's and Raoul's bland expressions concealed amused admiration.

"You're a marvel." Raoul ruffled Kel's hair affectionately, making her feel absurdly young again. "It's humane, and it's made allies of a kind out of enemies without draining resources— boosting them, in fact. I'd puff out my chest and say I taught you well but it's purely you."

"Second that." Alanna completed a complex series of sword exercises. "I had an interesting chat with Neal and Yuki about what you did when that idiot Tirrsmonter attacked Amiir'aan. And you'd do the same if someone attacked one of the prisoners, wouldn't you?"

Kel stopped herself shuffling. "Maybe not so much—they're adults and were enemies until pretty recently—but yes, if it was just bigotry."

"I haven't heard this one." Raoul quirked eyebrows at Alanna. "What did our Kel do?"

Scowling, she left them to hash over the story and went to see the steps now advancing rapidly up the fin. Numair hadn't been able to speed the cutting spell but after watching what the basilisks, Kuriaju, and Petrin were doing, and going round to the roadway to look at angles, had come up with a different idea. The steps began from the gallery extending the inner alure, continuing it as a tunnel, with windows every few yards for light, that had to be pitched quite steeply to climb well clear of the mined overhang. Traverse progress had been slow, but once Numair confirmed they were past the moat he suggested moving to an open groove, with pillars every ten steps to support the roof, and simply shifting cut rock straight out to fall to the base of the fin. Besides the time and effort it took a basilisk to cuts each next step, most labour was spent cutting that slab into small blocks and hauling them down; with the new system, the moment cuts were done ogre strength or Numair's magic could shift the mass of stone ten foot to the right and watch it disappear. The only limiting factor until they moved above the overhang was the basilisks' endurance, and with all the adults except St'aara working shifts, and Numair amusing himself flicking slabs sideways, apparently effortlessly, the regular thud of landings in soft ground from ever increasing heights became a welcome punctuation of the days, and hourly progress was visible to all.

Numair also spent time making spellmirrors and opal keys, but in Daine's absences he was restless and found rock-shifting a release. She was flying far north into Scanra to spread word among hawks and owls, leaving Sarralyn to St'aara's and Yuki's care, but made time for a second session with Butter, a boost to Peachblossom's leg, and a long evening sitting with New Hope's knowing dogs, cat, and birds, renewing her magical expansion of minds and getting their versions of events.

"They're all content, Kel, though they'd like to see more of you. And the marmalade cat had an interesting view of the first half of your fight with Stenmun Kinslayer."

"I should think she did. I'm surprised she remembers it after the blow she took. I thought we'd lost her."

"Zerhalm did a good job, and she realises you took what you thought was only her body with you. She's grateful in a cat sort of way."

"I saved her so I ought to stroke her?"

Daine laughed. "Pretty much. You should meet Queenclaw—the cat goddess. She's often in Ma's kitchen, and when she isn't wheedling tidbits or stalking pudding she just gives impatient orders—you're not doing anything useful so stroke me. It's hard to refuse her."

"I bet." Kel sighed. "My image of your parents' house is very strange, between Lord Gainel, that peculiar animal god, and Queenclaw."

"Broadfoot? They like Ma's cooking, mostly. And they tend to be hunters, like Da, not grazers. Gainel's an old friend, so far as I know. It's a peaceful place, and the views are beautiful."

"Huh. I'd have thought all of the Divine Realms were beautiful until I heard about that dragon skullroad. And that reminds me—I've been meaning to ask what sunbirds are."

"Sunbirds? Where did you—oh, those arrows Da gave you. Have you tried one?"

"I haven't dared."

"It did sound spectacular. The mark these arrows find will burn, be it metal or stone."

"Are sunbirds made of fire, then?"

"Not as far as I know, but they sometimes look it. Big things, between an eagle and a griffin, that spiral up looking dark when you can make them out at all—they can be oddly transparent. But at a certain height they face the sun and spread their wings in a special way and glory! then they look as if they're made of light. A flock displaying is beyond anything. Gods watch Chaos in their light, as mages scry in fire."

"Huh." Kel thought about this. "So maybe the arrow's flight is like the spiral up and when it hits it does what the sunbirds do."

"Could be. I'll ask Da when I have a chance, though I can't promise he'll answer." Daine grinned. "Did I tell you Tobe came to check you weren't pulling his leg about that bearskin I gave Gary?"

"I promised I wasn't but I can't blame him—a sixteen-foot bear is hard to believe." "If Da wins himself another pelt I'll bring it to you." "Go on with you. Do other gods kill one another?"

"Animal ones do. Broadfoot eats frog gods who promptly reappear, so I imagine the fox god eats the chicken god and the lion god eats grazer gods. I've never met them, though."

"It's very peculiar." It certainly had been to experience death and be immediately returned, and Kel's sense of wrongness in being alive twisted in her stomach.

"Gods are, Kel—haven't you noticed? But the animal gods and Da are just doing what they do. The great gods are different."

"I suppose. But that's a perspective I lack, Daine—the elemental, your Ma and Da, the Black God, the Hag, the Goddess, to me they're all so much greater that telling them apart's like an ant guessing the height of different mountains. It might be a lot but it's no odds to the ant."

Daine laughed again. "I understand the feeling but you don't do yourself justice. You'd not ask a god to mindread Scanran ambassadors, and I doubt you'd have asked the Black God to dinner." Her look became shrewd. "Is he what this is about, really? With that cursed Rogal?"

"Yes, but he won't be cursed. He'll be redeemed." Soft-voiced, Kel explained what the Black God had said to her. "I've prayed for guidance but had no reply. Nothing."

"Then carry on, Kel. His words, his problem. Is it any different from killing someone in battle after they'd killed one of your soldiers?"

Kel stared. "Well, that's refreshing. But maybe it is—because I've time to think about it, and have to do it in cold blood. I've killed scores of men, Daine, starting when I was twelve, but always in the heat. The nearest I've come to this was those Scanran groups we met going to Rathhausak, when I gave orders to take no prisoners and heal no wounded, and I felt sick about that but it was still hot battle, just making sure blows killed. And at Scything Wheat, though I felt sick as the arrows were cutting those poor Scanrans down, I was pumped up to fight the rest of them." She grimaced. "I've been bracing myself for months now against the need to use these defences—the rockfalls and killing fields, and even those sunbird arrows. If I work the mageblasts

myself, as I ought, I'll probably have killed thousands before we're done. And I'll live with that. Any soldier has to, any commander. But this with Rogal tomorrow … I don't think I've ever dreaded anything more." Her voice sank. "I'm dreaming of the tauros for the first time since the goddess healed me, but it has Rogal's face."

"Oh Kel." Daine grasped her hands, her eyes sharp. "Dreaming, not remembering?"

"I suppose. Yes. The memory vision always repeated exactly, but these ones don't. Sometimes Merric's body is there, or Vinson's. I'm waiting for the tauros to have his face."

"Well, if they're dreams, pray to Gainel. He's close to the Black God. It's forgiveness they share, I think—no-one's refused in death and anything can happen in dreams. It's Gainel who escorts my Grandda to see Ma when the Black God lets him visit. And I think the Black God's more limited in what he says to mortals, even though Gainel can only speak to us in dreams. Whether that's some rule or just habit I don't know, but Gainel's a better bet. Pray to him tonight, and I'll throw one in too. What is it you want to know?"

Kel didn't have to think. "Does New Hope stand a better chance of surviving this roil in the timeway with Rogal dead at my hand, at someone else's hand, or set free?"

"I'll meet you at Gainel's shrine after dinner, when Sarralyn's down."

In the event Daine's daughter accompanied them, wide awake with infinite curiosity in her big eyes. Kel had been in a solemn mood over the churn in her guts but found herself welcoming the baby's presence. There wasn't any answer, of course but without needing to address the heartbreaking sadness in the Black God's face she found it easier to marshal thoughts, her worry about effects on the timeway and the fear she hadn't confided even to Daine, that Merric's spirit would resent her for the grace she extended to Rogal even in making him pay for the death he'd caused. She wasn't sure if it was really a prayer or just a plea for comfort but that didn't seem to matter, and after they'd introduced a bouncing Sarralyn to Peachblossom and Jump, who came to investigate on their evening round, she went to bed comforted and believing that despite everything she would sleep.

In her dream everything that would happen next morning unfolded emotionlessly in her mind, as if she stood apart from herself. She heard herself say to Rogal words she'd been playing over and over in her mind, and gave the blow. The consequences were affectless, and as she lifted her gaze from what had rolled to her feet her breath caught even in dream at the sight of Merric and the tall, hooded figure behind him. Her friend's features were clear, red hair bright in sunshine, without its awful dullness on his corpse, and he gave her his familiar, disreputable grin below warm eyes. They turned greyer as he looked at Rogal, and Kel saw a bewildered and frightened spirit rising from dead flesh, staring at Merric and the god. Shaking his head Merric came forward to take Rogal's hand, and though he said nothing Kel could hear his exasperated 'Idiot!' as he led his killer to the god and bowed, pulling Rogal down with him. Then all three faded into glare as the sun crested the fin and Kel heard the familiar sough of wind; when she'd blinked dazzle from her eyes there was nothing to be seen and she almost cried out, not wanting to lose Merric again so quickly, desiring to see once more the Black God's face and the sadness in his eyes. Her foot took an involuntary step forward and something clanked at her feet; glancing down she saw a pail rolling away, and understood the benediction as the dream faded into her usual pre-dawn wakefulness. Her mind and will were clear.

Civilian executions could happen at any time but the army did things by first light and she rose, dressing in her best Mindelan tunic. Tobe was waiting, dressed the same way, and hugged her, head pressed to her breast. He had grown, she realised as she hugged him back.

"You don't have to watch this, Tobe."

"Yes I do. Sir Merric was my friend and you're my Ma." She squeezed tight and let him go. "Come on, then."

She took her glaive from its stand and followed him. Many people were already waiting on paths and green, talking softly, but all stood silently aside as she and Tobe made their way to the shrines. She knelt first to Lord Gainel's, with a simple prayer of thanks, and bowed to each shrine, pausing for a moment at Lord Mithros's as the god of justice; at the Black God's she knelt again. She couldn't have verbalised what she was feeling and didn't try, but blended gratitude and compassion blazed in her mind—the surrender of a burden with appalled relief and piercing sorrow for the one who took it from her. Rising, her gaze strayed to the one shrine yet unvisited, Lord Sakuyo's, and she bowed, sticking out her tongue in her imagination and hearing his laugh in the same way. Noting Cloestra's absence from her roost she gestured Tobe to stay to that side, and retraced her steps to stand before Lord Mithros's shrine and look out over the main level, face calm, her glaive resting in her hand.

Almost everyone, mortal and immortal, seemed to be assembled in the false dawn, and it was only a few minutes before Uinse's squad, in gleaming armour, appeared bringing Rogal. His hands were bound but he wasn't gagged, and she gave him no chance to speak; the time for that was past.

"Rogal, once of Runnerspring and Tirrsmont, and at the last of New Hope, you broke your solemn oath in rage and pride, and killed a man you were sworn to defend and obey. Your life is rightly forfeit and none with the authority to pardon you will do so—not I, nor my Lord of Cavall, nor General Vanget, nor His Majesty. You die this morning in payment of the life you wrongfully took and in penance of oathbreach. It is just, yet you are first to be executed here and I will not stain this ground with your blood. Captain Uinse, escort condemned Rogal to the skullroad."

Uinse had known her order was coming and bowed. "My Lady."

Others had not known and there was a swirl of movement as people made for the north tower and outer alures. Kel gestured to Tobe to join her as she looked at the assembled commanders.

"Please follow me."

Tobe slipped a hand into hers as they followed Uinse towards the gatehouse. Climbing to the shelf she saw Irnai waiting at the top, and silently let Tobe's hand go for a moment, shifting her glaive to allow her to stroke Irnai's hair as the girl fell in beside her. Shifting the glaive back to take Tobe's hand again she heard indrawn breaths. Waiting in the gloom of the barbican for the gates to be thrust open she couldn't see the faces of Uinse's squad, but heard distant exclamations from people reaching the outer alure and gatehouse roof, and knew all was as she'd arranged. As the leaves of the gate showed a crack of dawnlight a pale bar lit Rogal ten paces in front; her gaze drifted sideways to objects she knew would be there, the heavy mop and pail half-full of water used to keep the barbican clean, and asked Tobe to fetch the pail. His glance was puzzled as he obeyed but Irnai squeezed her arm and she smiled woodenly at the child seer before taking the pail and following a suddenly nervous squad forward.

The Stone Tree Nation lined the roadway on both sides; the outer edge was solid with overlapping steel, and a stormwing perched on each tauros head. Dimwit, Flatnose, and Pizzle were occupied by Cloestra, Hebakh, and Queen Barzha, and below them the ugly male and two others, razor wings extended, closed the way. The wash of fear was palpable and Rogal cried out, beginning to thrash in his captors' arms, but her voice stilled him as an adult's might a baby's cry.

"Go forward, Rogal of New Hope, who betrayed us. The Stone Tree Nation harms none today, even you condemned."

Her own stride forward seemed to impel everyone else and she came into the light raying over their heads, carefully descending the steep slope and turn before halting to bow, once but deeply, to Barzha; Tobe echoed her and Irnai curtseyed. Every stormwing ritually raised wings to meet over their heads, feathers gleaming. Mutely she gestured the children back, sensing Raoul and Alanna gather them in.

"Leave him bound but let him go, Captain Uinse."

She'd warned him of what she intended but his eyes were wide as he obeyed; the stormwings were still as stone but Rogal spun, staring, and again she gave him no chance to prate, walking forward to stand a few feet before him, glaive angled out, and set the pail at her side.

"Rogal of New Hope, will you hear my private words, spoken to you as one who has seen the Black God's face?"

The deathly silence encompassed him as everyone, and she took a step to face him intimately, restricting her voice to him alone though she'd bet the stormwings could hear.

"Here's truth, Rogal. I have died, even as you will this hour, and heard the Black God speak these words. Fear not for those you send to my judges, nor for yourself in sending them to me. When you shall come yourself before me none shall cry witness against you. And who dies in your service shall find their death their grace, and my mercy infinite. I, Keladry of Mindelan, do swear this to be true." Her free hand traced the gods' circle and chimes rang, making Rogal flinch; she heard murmuring on the alures. "Forsworn man, against whom all have cried out, would you die in my service and earn the Black God's mercy and Sir Merric's forgiveness in the Peaceful Realms?" She read his eyes but that was not enough. "Speak your answer, Rogal of New Hope." She saw his half-desires to refuse boil away leaving only fear and guilt and knowledge of her truth.

"I would." It was a sigh of defeated breath but it had been spoken.

"Then kneel and offer me your neck. I will be swift and true, and the Black God with Sir Merric shall meet you in their grace."

As he sank, head forward, she took a step back, arms curling into movements long familiar from pattern dances. Lift, extend, poise, sweep. Her mind was empty of everything but movement and her blow exact. As its impetus spun his head free she saw blood arc, rising higher and further than she'd ever imagined to splash squarely across Pizzle and Queen Barzha's feet. Head and body fell, and resting the glaive's butt on the ground she sank to her knees, hearing again the distant susurration of mortal voices; her awareness was on the pail, and Sakuyo laughed and laughed as she heaved up everything she'd been able to choke down in the last day in three violent retches that left her emptied of everything. Half-straightening she had a glimpse of Merric, one hand on Rogal's shoulder with rueful, loving admiration in his eyes, and a glint under the Black God's hood and then they were gone and there was pure silence that felt as if it reached for miles.

Despite the smell she had the sense to let herself catch her breath before finding her legs just willing. She caught her son's eyes where he stood with Alanna's hand on his shoulder.

"Tobe, would you be kind enough to empty and replace the pail?"

He didn't hesitate but as he neared her stretched out his hands and she overrode her

trembling muscles to stoop to his embrace, free arm tightening before she straightened again and he lifted the pail and walked back up the roadway.

"Captain Uinse, place Rogal's remains in a plain coffin and bury him at Haven, without a headstone." With an effort she raised her voice, hoarse from acid burn. "There will be no remembrances for an unmarked grave. But I who have killed Rogal of New Hope in the name of justice say he died in our service, repenting his deed, and I know he finds his death his grace and the Black God's mercy infinite." She swallowed, clearing bile. "That in shared death Sir Merric exasperatedly calls him an idiot and forgives him, of his grace leading him to judgement in the Peaceful Realms. These things are true, but I ask you all to join with me in agreeing they should be so."

"So mote it be."

She could hardly hear her own voice among the throng, and blinked away tears. "Carry on, please, Uinse."

He bowed, face white. "My Lady, of your grace."

She inclined her head to Barzha and Hebakh, who managed nods despite glazed eyes, and left Uinse's squad to their task, walking slowly up the roadway and managing not to use her glaive as a stick. It didn't deserve that. Vanget and Wyldon parted to let her through, and fell in behind. Re-entering New Hope she paused to speak to Brodhelm, staring out over the main level to the terrace and the shrines.

"Please carry on as usual, Captain. I'll be in my rooms for a while." "My Lady."

Respecting her reserve no-one spoke as she made her way back, closing her door and mechanically stripping off her good tunic before cleaning her glaive and restoring it to its stand. She looked at the stained rag in her hand, put it carefully on the hearth, and went to the privy to rinse her mouth before sitting on her bed to remove her boots. Face down, she let tears flow into the pillow that muffled noise, not knowing whether she wept for Merric or Rogal or the god, or only herself.

Alanna woke her from a drained doze a couple of hours later, sitting on her bed as she rolled over and sat up, wincing and rotating the crick out of her neck.

"How are you feeling, Kel?"

"Alright, I suppose. Empty."

"Cried out?"

"For now, anyway."

"Good."

"Is everything alright."

"Oh yes. Everyone's working hard and feeling brushed by grace. I take it you saw Merric forgive Rogal and the Black God receive him?"

Kel met Alanna's purple eyes. "You saw them too?"

"The Goddess lent me her vision. Daine saw, and Irnai, but no-one else. I haven't seen a dead man since I killed Roger the second time, and as often as I've prayed to him I'd never seen the Black God." Alanna hesitated. "Did you tell Rogal about the god's grace?"

Kel nodded. "I asked him if he would choose to die in my service."

"Ah." Alanna was silent for a moment. "To me the god was hooded. Did you see his

face?"

"Not this time. Just a glint of eyes at the last. I thought I heard Sakuyo laugh when I was vomiting, but that might have been me."

Alanna had a strange expression. "Might it? I think you're probably the bravest person I've ever met." Kel blinked. There was something wrong with that statement. "Don't worry about it." Alanna smiled crookedly. "It's for me to think about, not you, though I must tell Jon all that happened today. And I think you should tell Hollyrose and his lady the full story, when you can, grace and all. They'll appreciate it more than you may think. Now, you won't feel like eating until you smell the food but you need breakfast. One of the cooks stayed to do you some fresh. Come on."

Slowly Kel rose, pulled on her everyday tunic, and followed Alanna, bemused by the sunlit ordinariness of the day and feeling as unhungry as she still felt hollow. Walking to the messhall she doubted she'd be able to choke anything down, wondering how to apologise to the cook, but to her surprise Alanna proved quite right.

Routine resumed. Kel couldn't say people were wary of her—there was no fear in them—but there was a different quality in the way they spoke to her she couldn't pin down. She'd seen a form of it in Svein and Vanget before they left, and even Raoul, though he'd clapped her on the shoulder and promised to use his new spellmirror and opal.

"I might try and send Dom's old lads along sometime, Kel. They'll be relieved to have news of him and want to see him."

"They're always welcome, Raoul—people ask after them often and they're honorary New Hopers. Who took the squad?"

"Wolset, kicking and screaming."

"Huh. Give him my best? And all of them."

"Surely."

He'd looked back and waved as he crossed the moatbridge, and she'd wondered what it was she'd seen in his eyes. Alanna and Wyldon went with him, and for all its crowdedness New Hope seemed smaller without them, as if the buildings had shrunk or moved closer together.

Daine and Numair stayed—she was still flying daily over Scanra, and he'd become absorbed in the crystal magelights Varik and Quenuresh had made from petrified ice, entering an abstracted theoretical and experimental mode from which only Sarralyn and Daine's returns could move him. Kel hoped whatever it was would prove useful and got on with her duties, but Neal was curious and invited him, with Daine and Kel, to the Yamani meal Yuki cooked once a month. The array

of pungent tsukemono provided most of the conversation, with restorative laughter, but as they picked at karumetou Neal asked what he was trying to do.

"Eh? Oh, with the petrified ice? I'm not sure, Neal. Quenuresh's spell is different from the Carthaki one we use for magelights. There's some odd synergy with Varik's Gift and her magic and the rock spell and I wondered if …"

His voice tailed away and Daine rolled her eyes at Sarralyn on her lap, making the baby gurgle laughter. "You wondered what, dear heart?"

"Oh, sorry. I think the icelights are boosting the light Varik set by absorbing sunshine during the day and releasing it at night. I'm trying to craft a spell to duplicate that. You'd still need a basilisk but far less power to start, and we've Tkaa. No maintenance or running costs. I was thinking about lighting the Palace grounds and lower city at night."

Kel clapped softly. "Now that's a worthy project. I was down there after dark at Midwinter, seeing Lalasa, and remember thinking half the problem for women would be solved if the streets could be lit. And here I'd like lights on the roadway and the bridges."

"You're assuming I'll succeed, Kel. There's no guarantee. I did have a notion, though— do you mind if I go to talk to Quenuresh tomorrow?"

"Of course not, but get a guard squad from Uinse." "Thank you. I have my jerkin too."

Kel smiled. "Good. It's no use in the closet. Not that there's any sign of trouble, but you never know."

"True enough, and I am grateful for it, Kel. I just don't like wearing armour, or the way people look at me when I do. The gods-it's-that-mage look is bad enough, but an armoured mage …" He shook his head ruefully. "I will be very glad when this war's over."

The opening was too inviting, and Kel tentatively tried to describe what was troubling her in people's attitudes since Rogal's execution. They listened, and Neal shook his head.

"Kel, Kel, who else would be puzzled? What you're seeing is respect. Not that they didn't respect you before, but not like this. If you really want to know, it was the pail as much as anything."

Kel felt bewildered. "The pail?"

Yuki nodded. "Yes, Keladry-chan, the pail. Everyone knew what you could do, and had done, but your Yamani stillness confused them. Now they know how much it costs you, and that you do it anyway."

"They mostly knew it a bit, Yuki." Neal cupped his hands. "But now they know it differently."

Kel swallowed. "You don't look at me that way, Neal. Nor Yuki."

"I knew it already, Kel, and so did Yuki. For me it's your lesson about chivalry all over again, and the bruises you took teaching it, but up a level. Or ten. And the pail's a perfect symbol."

"It is?" Kel was baffled and both Yuki and Daine smiled.

"Of course it is, Keladry-chan. I am sure Lord Sakuyo laughed."

Keel stared. "I thought I heard him, but Alanna and Irnai didn't." She looked at Daine. "Did you? Alanna said you saw the Black God."

"No, but I don't know him at all, so there's no reason I should."

"Hang on—the Black God was there?" Neal's eyes were wide. "You saw him again,

Kel?"

"Yes. And Merric." She told the story, finding it easier than expected though her eyes were damp as she tried to explain knowing Merric forgave her for forgiving Rogal. Drying her eyes she saw Yuki doing the same and gave a crooked smile. "Alanna thought I should tell Merric's parents the story. I don't think I can by letter, and Mithros knows when I'll ever meet them. But do you agree I should?"

"Oh yes. And Keladry-chan, you must tell a poet—a good Yamani poet. I will ask Cricket."

"A poet? Yuki, why?"

"It is a great ballad and holy tale—do you not see? At court there would be a thousand haiku made of this."

"Yuki, that's insane. And even if it isn't it wouldn't help Merric's parents."

"I don't know, Kel—it might." Neal's eyes were bright. "For once I agree with my Yamani rose about poetry, and I certainly think you should tell Lord Belian and Lady Marra."

To her shock Daine and Numair also thought she should tell Merric's parents, assuring her truth was best, however unlikely it might sound. She half-wanted to ask all of them if they'd feel the same way if it had been their child who'd died, but with Sarralyn and—named at last! if to her embarrassment—Ryokel present she stifled the impulse. Ryoko meant 'bright child' in Yamani, and Neal and Yuki said the –kel suffix was entirely appropriate as they wanted her as a godsmother, and couldn't find a way of using –eal or –imi that either of them liked. The naming ceremony was to be at Mabon, with Baird coming and perhaps Duchess Wilina, if the lull continued.

"If you all say so."

"Don't be so doubtful, Kel." One of Neal's long-fingered hands reached to stroke Ryokel in Yuki's arms. "It's Merric who'll matter to them, not Rogal. To know a dead child blessed in the Black God's arms … that's as much healing as can be for their grief."

She knew he was thinking of his lost brothers and parents' grief, but decided all the same to ask her own parents. She owed them a first-hand account anyway, as well as the King, and with her report on Scything Wheat despatched to Vanget she spent two long evenings writing letters. To her parents she could be direct about feelings, trusting them to understand her visionary dream and the way she suspected Lord Gainel was shielding her from nightmares, but the King's letter cost her sweat and ended up a blunter document, bare wording contrasting oddly with substance. Letters arrived too, including one from Lalasa filled with wedding plans and news of the shops, and with them her old finery, remarkably restored, and her green kimonos with ducal border added. She had no call to dress up before Ryokel's naming, but restoration of her wardrobe was a comfort she hadn't anticipated.

Two days later Kel made her weekly report by spellmirror, with little to say except that the tunnellers had at last hit limestone and the buildings within the corral were complete, but progress on the steps had slowed as they moved above the mined overhang and cut stone once more had to be broken up and packed down before it could be dropped over the edge. Wyldon nodded, asking when she thought the building team would leave, then steepled his fingers and sat back.

"There's news from Corus. Vanget and I had a long conversation with the King yesterday, and there are things you should know. Top of the list is that the Scanran ambassadors have been sent packing. The Chamber was willing to read their minds, as you suggested, and while they knew disappointingly little about Maggur's plans they did have instructions to stall and no expectation of reaching an agreement. The impossible demands and incremental concessions were all planned, and they were supposed to string everything out for as long as they could. So His Majesty reasoned that if Maggur wanted them occupying his time he shouldn't comply, and used Scything Wheat as an excuse to bend their ears about negotiating in bad faith before presenting a list of his own demands, starting with Maggur's abdication, and is having them escorted to the northern border at Frasrlund."

Kel whistled softly. "Did Genlith have anything to say about that?"

Wyldon grimaced. "He did, with bilious indignation, apparently. His Majesty thought his disappointment genuine."

"Disappointment in what, though? Does he know about Vinson?"

"No. What to make public about that is still being debated. Meanwhile the Gallan trade he controls as Stone Mountain's factor is being watched, and it looks as if you were right about food. There's no sign of metalwork, but there are additional orders for grain and rice Sir Myles's agents and believe are intended to be shipped on from Cría to Hamrkeng. If so they'll be stopped, and the Crown will purchase them."

Kel frowned. "How much food?"

"Sir Myles has identified orders for about twelve hundred tons, and there may be more."

"Enough to leave a lot of people hungry come February and March."

"Certainly. If Maggur's conscripted so many his harvests are that short the last thing we should be doing is making up the lack."

"It's hard on the people. But I was wondering, as he's definitely buying time, if famine might force his hand on whatever he's planning. We should be prepared for trouble the moment it thaws."

"Mmm. Or plans could be disrupted. Hungry soldiers are trouble."

"He'll feed his soldiers and starve civilians if it comes to it, Wyldon. But without knowing his plans we don't know how they'll be affected. All I'm saying is that a cornered wolf is more dangerous."

"We did discuss it but the problem's the same—forces stretched across seven hundred miles in half-a-dozen major forts that we can't concentrate until we know where Maggur's army is. Anyway, the other thing is that Runnerspring did pitch a fit, as expected."

Kel shrugged. "Did he explain Rogal's presence at Tirrsmont?" "A friendly loan in troubled times."

"Of course. And his coming here?"

"Proper loyalty to Sir Voelden."

"That doesn't wash. Voelden had no right to maintain troops."

"And wasn't, as records show and His Majesty pointed out. But Runnerspring's registered a complaint, demanding your recall to face questioning. That was flatly refused but the complaint will be heard at Midwinter. It might be an idea to send enquiry and court martial records to the other Councillors ahead of time."

"The clerks have finished a dozen copies, Wyldon, and the rest will be done this week. Alanna took one for Lord Ennor, Svein's delivering to Lord Ferghal, and I'll draft a covering letter for the others."

"Good anticipation. I can't see what Runnerspring hopes for but he's always complained about wartime subordination of noble privilege to army rules so he may just want to do so again."

"That goes back to Jasson—isn't it traditional enough yet?"

"You'd think so, I agree, but although the lords of Runnerspring have always been knights they've never been fighters and certainly not army men. I'm still trying to understand what he was doing with a liegeman like Rogal in the first place. I think he genuinely doesn't understand why King Jasson forced that rule through or why it's necessary. You don't look convinced."

"I think you're generous. Though I suppose Tirrsmont's an argument in your favour—he didn't understand even with war on his doorstep, and I don't think war's touched Runnerspring in generations. I remember Garvey being clueless about the Immortals War when most pages knew exactly what it had involved, and before that you'd have to go back to the Barzun campaign to have active forces anywhere near the inland south-west." She hesitated. "Do you mind a what-if question?"

"Try me."

"If Genlith is committing treason, does Runnerspring know?"

He winced. "I'd like to say he wouldn't do such a thing, but I don't know any more, Keladry. I'd not have believed Torhelm would do what we now have compelling reason to believe he did. And Runnerspring is close to Genlith, by blood and marriage. Closer than Genlith to Stone Mountain, oddly, but Stone Mountain's the older and richer fief and its lords have never liked marrying into what they think of as client fiefs. I notice you don't ask about Lord Burchard."

"No." Kel frowned. "I don't think he'd countenance open treason with an enemy. Too proud, maybe. And pious, by his lights. Besides, revenge on me aside, I can't see what Maggur could offer him that could tempt him except the Conté throne, and that doesn't play."

"Your reasoning?"

"Maggur might offer it but he'd be lying. He wants it himself, and Stone Mountain couldn't hold it without more support than he'd get, as he must know. And I can't see grief driving him to prefer vassalage to Maggur—he's deranged but not stupid. But Genlith now … humiliated by Vinson's exposure, perhaps already guilty of capital treason, and with Stone Mountain distracted—that's a potent combination. And Maggur would have had no problem making Genlith an offer he'd jump at."

"Of what?"

"Stone Mountain, for starters." Wyldon's eyebrows shot up. "Think about it. I do all the work and Stone Mountain takes the money with disdain. That's normal. But now he's so stupid with his son's death that he won't help mine condemned to the mines. So Genlith hires it done, using Gallan mercenaries, maybe, and either Maggur hears or is already looking at Genlith because he's got Blayce and a plan and needs metalwork he can't do. And if he did conquer Tortall he'd have to kill a lot of people to secure it, but he'd need noble stooges—people to work the administration until he could get his own up to speed. I'm sorry to say it, Wyldon, but I think Genlith would see an opportunity for revenge, advancement, and frankly, to do to Tortall what his son did to women. I know Torhelm would. But I'm not sure about Runnerspring. Given things I've heard him say, and the kind of man he raised his son to be, I wouldn't put it past him. I realise my own bias, but if you wouldn't put it past him either it needs bearing in mind, Hag take it."

She found her fists clenched and relaxed them, giving Wyldon a rueful look. "Sorry. I hate this doublethink. But I've done everything I can to strengthen my walls and reinforce the barbican, so I'm down to the commonest way enemies capture fortifications. It makes me cranky."

"Understandably. I hadn't put it together like that, and I see your point. It makes sense of something Sir Myles said, too, so I think he's probably considering it but I'll pass it to Vanget and the King. Otherwise we don't have much choice but to play a waiting game."

Kel knew he was right, but didn't like it. The only option was to go after Maggur directly, and besides the perennial problem of logistics for any invading army even stripping the frontier would barely produce a sufficient force; and if Maggur got any sizeable body of troops past it Tortall would be wide open. If stalemate continued something might have to be done, but it wasn't going to happen soon; in any case tactical and strategic analysis both said that what was needed was to induce Maggur to commit himself—to stick his neck out, as Rogal had, with the same result.

More productively, on Lughnasad eve Cloestra's egg hatched. For reasons Kel didn't understand but felt were right she had taken to performing her pre-dawn pattern dances on the terrace, before Lord Sakuyo's shrine, and letting her thoughts drift to memories of Yaman. Baron George and Crooked Kyprioth were in her mind as well, especially after the news that King Oron had died some weeks ago and been succeeded by King Hazarin, who'd promptly died himself, leaving Princess Ijane as regent for a child king, Dunevon—and Mithros knew the trouble that always spelled, even with sane rulers in a stable country. The Baron was headed into a simmering mess, and she remembered Cloestra's comment that someone was stirring in the Isles; ending the pattern dance she turned towards the immortal, wondering if she knew of the tumbling Rittevon kings, and realised Cloestra was perched on the side of the roost, bending to croon softly and tap her egg with a wingtip. Kel set her glaive by Lord Sakuyo's shrine and went across.

"It's hatching?"

Cloestra glanced up, steel teeth on show. "Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

"No. It will cut its way out. Won't you, youngling? Then you can tell us your name."

"You hatch knowing your names?"

"Always. Listen." She tapped the shell and Kel heard the answering tap within. "It won't be long. We usually hatch just after dawn."

"Do you mind if I send for Daine and Numair?"

"Send for the world, Protector, for all I care, so long as they stand well clear. My Queen and flock will be here soon."

Turning, Kel saw Tobe and his cohort of children, warming up on the green as they waited for her to lead morning practice, and caught his eye. Not wanting to shout she used two fingers to mime a stork's long-legged stride, pointed to the guest room Daine and Numair were using, and gestured to the crooning stormwing. She saw understanding hit and he gave his spear to Gydo, loping off.

"Forgive my ignorance, Cloestra, but will the hatchling nurse? Or need … other sustenance?'

"Only my love, Protector." Steel teeth flashed. "The playground will be a resource. Queen Barzha told me you are the first person since our return to the mortal realms to realise we feed on all emotions. More than the Stone Tree Nation wait to see how this hatchling fares on the diet of New Hope."

Kel's mind clicked. "Begin as we mean to go on?"

Cloestra smiled again, with a faint cackle. "By all means, Protector. Yet the newly hatched are clumsy and their wings are not blunt."

"Tell the children yourself?" Was that respect in Cloestra's eyes?

"I will."

Kel trotted over to the children, and by the time they'd stacked cut-down spears by the flagpole, and she'd ushered them to the terrace, Barzha and Hebakh had arrived with a score of others, all notably clean, clustering awkwardly around the roost where the egg was beginning to rock. Seeing Kel approaching Cloestra gestured and the stormwing circle opened, making room; even massed the immortals were not inducing the fear they usually did, but creating a wash of warm tenderness. A moment later Tobe returned with Daine and Numair, wearing belted robes and, Kel suspected, nothing more. The stormwings were beginning to croon, stepping from foot to foot, but Cloestra's voice rose over them as she welcomed and warned.

"Younglings of New Hope, listen well. I have control of my wings, as Amiir'aan has control of his rock spell. The hatchling will not, yet its wings will be sharper than mine. It could kill or injure without meaning to do so. Do you beware, and keep your distance these first days until it knows itself free of the egg." She glanced at Daine. "Even you, Godborn. A newhatched wing will cut godflesh and dragonscale."

Numair looked as if he wanted to make notes but children's eyes were wide and they took a pace back. The egg rocked more violently, scraping, and Cloestra exchanged a look with Barzha.

"The hatchling has a gift for you, Protector, in payment of its life. Come closer and look."

As Kel stepped forward, conscious of Tobe behind her, Cloestra tapped the egg with her wingtip again, scratching at a point just off the top. The answering blow dimpled the shell outward.

"Next time. Once more." Cloestra's croon was urgent, and at the next blow the dimple glowed in its centre. "Next time. Once more." The dimple burst as a blade a few inches long poked through, slicing down the steel of the shell, and poked again, making a second cut that

angled out from the first. Cloestra didn't look up. "Once more. The blades are on the wing -joint, Protector, to do this job alone—like a bird's egg-tooth. They are much prized, and the tool you need to cut moulted feathers, for they will cut anything. Once more, once more."

A large piece of eggshell fell away. The stormwings' croon rose and Cloestra leaned forward, intent. Her voice rang strangely pure and brought hissing cries from her queen and kin.

"Her name is Amourta."

A second piece of shell dropped, a third, and two blades poked through, pressing down until cloven steel fell away in halves and with a squawk of triumph Amourta stood free. The wings she extended were covered in steel down, tiny curling feathers whose edges glinted as the light strengthened, though the blades on the joints were jet black. Her human parts were more like a toddler than a newborn: she stood on clawed feet, raising radiant eyes to Cloestra. Cloestra's head dipped.

"Amourta."

All the stormwings crooned the name with her, triumph in the sound, and Amourta's gaze swung as each spoke its name, then came to the mortals with curiosity starting in her eyes. Kel spoke her own name, followed by Tobe, Daine, Numair, and all the children. Even more than Sarralyn's Amourta's gaze was disconcerting in apparent understanding, but Kel could see tiredness after the struggle of hatching, and with introductions complete shepherded the children back to practice, leaving stormwings to their crooning welcome. Daine and Numair also backed away, and Kel saw their eyes glistening as her own must be.

At breakfast she announced Amourta's hatching and Cloestra's warning, declaring that end of the terrace off-limits unless invited by the stormwing but also asking people to introduce themselves from the main level when they could. Cloestra had become sufficiently familiar and enough information about stormwing difficulties had percolated that most people were genuinely pleased for mother and child, and did go by. Hatching so close to Lughnasad was felt to be auspicious, and at the ceremony next morning Kel gave thanks for Amourta's life and safety to the Goddess and Green Lady as well as the usual prayers for land and harvest and the other business of the festival.

That included three handfastings—a Goatstrack lad and Anak's Eyrie girl, both orphaned, who'd been making eyes for months; a Tirrsmont widow with a Rathhausak widower, who shared a love of plants and cooking and thought they'd suit; and to Kel's real pleasure Fanche and Saefas. He'd been courting her when Kel met them at Giantkiller more than a year before, and they'd lived openly as a couple since return from Scanra but now wanted to set things on what Fanche called a proper footing. The prospect pleased everyone, but Kel was flummoxed by the request of all three couples that she handfast them: in the absence of a priest it was proper for the most senior official available to celebrate a match, as she did funerals; what bothered her was that everyone involved regarded her as preferable to any priest and a better qualified interlocutor with the divine—so much so they wanted her to marry them when the time came. She'd protested she wasn't remotely capable as a celebrant but Fanche just laughed.

"Lady Kel, we saw Archpriest Holloran, remember? The highest divine in the realm, and when Lord Weiryn and his Green Lady appeared he went straight to his knees. Very proper. You invited them to dinner. And only you know how many gods you've met but every one I've seen you call on answered. What can any priest do that you can't?"

Neither the years of study Mithran divines underwent nor Kel's complete lack of experience in handfasting seemed to bother anyone, and when Kel appealed to Neal he offered no support.

"I grant there's university training, Kel, but it's not like an Ordeal making a knight. And I'd say you've learned on the job." He grinned infuriatingly. "I doubt you'll find anyone who thinks you aren't supremely qualified to hatch, match, and despatch."

"Except everyone who actually is qualified as a priest!"

Neal ignored Kel's exasperated mutter—and appalled her by adding that he and Yuki had been meaning to ask her to conduct Ryokel's naming at Mabon anyway. She resorted to the spellmirror, asking Wyldon to arrange a firespell connection with Archpriest Holloran. Straight-faced and, she knew, deeply amused he agreed, but even Holloran let her down, listening respectfully and declaring her in a category of her own but certainly an honourable celebrant. With Wyldon and Harailt having difficulty stifling laughter he responded to her continuing unease by blessing her as the celebrant of New Hope and promising to have it noted in the temple's records and send her registers the courts accepted as proofs of birth, naming, handfasting, marriage, and death. Before he could offer orange robes she managed to thank him and Harailt broke the connection, giving in to chuckles. Wyldon grinned.

"There's nothing for it, Keladry, but to agree graciously."

She glared. "It's an army failing, Wyldon. Soldiers can't marry. Civilians can. So when you put a soldier in charge of a refugee camp you ought to provide for religious necessities."

"But they're not necessities. You have a point, though. I could try indenting for a priest. Mithros alone knows who you'd get."

Harailt laughed more than ever and Kel crossly blanked her mirror. After a while the absurdity of it restored her temper, and when the morning of Lughnasad came the business was simple; chimes rang for each couple as she asked the gods to witness promises made, so she ended content and had pleasure relaying the story to her parents.

There was also the fascination of Amourta's wing-knives to distract her. They'd dropped off within a day, and with Numair's help been gingerly gathered, set in petrified hilts, and provided with oversize, locking sheaths. They certainly made fletching easier, trimming steel as if it were ordinary feather, and if there was anything they wouldn't cut Kel had yet to discover it; even stone yielded with no more pressure than was needed for a metal knife through leather. Numair decided that despite their blackness they were a special form of the silver of immortals' claws—denser and stronger—and would never blunt. One became part of Kel's fletching kit; the other, after thought, she had secured at the infirmary for medical use.

Hatching and ceremonies cheered everyone, dispersing lingering solemnity after Rogal's execution. If she was honest Kel had to admit they cheered her too, and so far as deputising for officials went handfasting was preferable to beheading. Even so, lying awake in the warm dark, sheet thrown back, Kel knew what bothered her most in both roles was the way such status set her apart, adding barriers to the loneliness of authority. As she was the one to kill and bury, not the one to die, so she would become the one to marry others, not to be married. She considered the irony of being ignorant of all save her own hands and a tauros yet blessing others' sexuality and legitimating their children, and knew Lord Sakuyo was laughing as hard as ever.

Kel gave Brodhelm a month's leave to visit Frasrlund, a journey he'd wanted to make since news

of the end of the siege. When he returned at the beginning of September Mikal would leave for Holtwood; meanwhile, before harvesting required massed field guards, he beefed up patrols and Kel agreed to let Sir Voelden lead one.

Uinse declined leave, saying he'd no family he cared to visit and regarded New Hope as home, but she gave him ten days off duty, and with Jacut not yet back from Corus Prosper became acting captain of New Hope First, with responsibility for the watch. Knowing he had backup made him less nervous and Kel watched the way he handled himself with approval—he'd learned a great deal from Uinse and was well liked by the men. One or two sought to take advantage of inexperience but he set them right smartly and with humour, and she made it clear she'd noticed as well as prompting renewed effort with the logistics and paperwork even of acting captaincy. He didn't have much tactical flair and she didn't think she'd want him in independent field command, but he'd make a good company captain; catching herself in the judgement she realised it seemed normal and proper to do so, though he was only a year below her, and knew another degree of separation.

When it came to Seaver that sense was painful, more so as while he was conscientious and unflagging in his duties she didn't think she'd ever want him as a captain; like his light magic his skills beyond combat were limited, and while he wasn't disliked he wasn't liked either, in the way Merric had been and Prosper was. It was partly temperament in handling men, but also a certain laziness in not pushing himself; his rudimentary Scanran hadn't improved, as Prosper's had, and despite having overcome his fear of spidrens he seemed to accept the various immortals and their interactions without curiosity, which Kel didn't understand. He had no intention of staying in army service after the war, and she unhappily observed in her annual report on officers that he wasn't suitable for greater responsibility. She was only grateful Neal as a healer didn't have to be thought about in that way, and when it came to Dom's report she spared herself and blandly observed that he was doing an excellent job, referring anyone who wanted more to the reports of the Own.

Daine completed her flights into Scanra, but Numair remained caught up in experimentation with icelights. Daine in turn was happy to spend time with Sarralyn, who approved, and greatly enlivened a school day by showing children and a fascinated array of adults an astonishing variety of animals, from the fabled icebear to the riverhorse and hyena. That evening after dinner, sitting with her, Sarralyn, and Numair on the green, Kel confessed her dubiety about hyenas from her sight of the Hag's companion, and heard a passionate defence of their marvellously keen sense of smell with Daine's version of Ozorne's deposition. They wound up going to the terrace, where Barzha and Hebakh were visiting Amourta, and Kel happily listened to a long, rambling conversation full of odd reminiscences—Numair speaking of what it felt like to watch one's own simulacrum executed and what Daine had done in rage, believing him dead; Daine of what she still thought the shameful treatment of the Banjiku by their god, and of marmosets; and the stormwings of the treachery of Jokhun Foulreek and the damage wrought on the Stone Tree Nation. When Rikash Moonsword was recalled Daine surprised both stormwings by saying she and Numair had decided to call a son, when they should have one, Rikash, and Kel went to bed realising she'd call these stormwings friends and wondering what pressure that exerted on the timeway.

She spent next morning finalising what would be done with the last limestone section of tunnel, mediating functionality, time, and everyone's understandable desires to make it as defensible as ingenuity could conjure. The square Dom had suggested had been cut tightly, so the end of the tunnel was deeper within the limestone than expected, but they settled on a couple of extra zigs and zags, defensive positions covering the angles, and a mageblast trap like those in the roadway. The gatehouse was only a day short of completion, Amiir'aan and Bel'iira had petrified rooves, the building team would leave within the week for Mastiff and the ravine Wyldon wanted bridging, and Spiir'aan would go to help if the proposed bridge proved feasible. That was all very

satisfactory but her afternoon paperwork was interrupted by the spellmirror's chime, and Wyldon's face was grave.

"Keladry, I'm sorry but there's bad news."

Her stomach muscles tightened. "Tell me."

"A wolfship attack on Mindelan—eight of them. The Navy ships did well, but two made it ashore. They were stopped in the end but there were casualties, including Sir Conal."

She'd been braced to hear Anders or Inness were dead, or her parents, and didn't know what she felt. "Conal's dead?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Who else?"

"None of your family, though Sir Inness was wounded, but thirty-one troops and civilians, as well as sailors. Those numbers aren't clear."

"Thirty-two."

"Yes." He looked his concern. "I'm sorry for your loss. I know you had troubles with Sir Conal but I imagine that makes it harder."

She blew out a breath. "Yes, it does. I thought it might be Anders or Inness or my parents, and I despise the relief I feel. Poor Conal. Do you know what happened?"

"I'm afraid I don't—Sir Anders got his mage to firespeak with Alanna, who contacted me and the King. And you shouldn't worry about what you feel, Keladry—that kind of guilty relief is normal. Do you want leave to go to Mindelan?"

The funeral would have taken place and Brodhelm was away. "No, I don't think so, Wyldon. Unless Anders is asking for me."

"Not that I know."

"Then I'll go that way to Corus by sea at Midwinter. There's not much point going now, and others are on leave already."

"As you will." He hesitated. "The timing's interesting."

Grief, if that's what she felt, didn't seem to have slowed her brain. "An order given when Maggur learned of the ambassadors' expulsion?"

"It seems plausible."

"Poor Mindelan."

"You're not responsible, Keladry."

"I know. Maggur is, and men who obey him. Yet this would not have happened were I unborn. Or if I hadn't burned Rathhausak."

Wyldon shifted, looking uncomfortable. "You don't know that."

She managed a half-smile. "It seems plausible. Don't fret—it's no different from ordering

men to their deaths. It just hits harder when it's home. I must tell Heliana. You don't have a casualty list?"

"No. I'll try to get one. Heliana's your private clerk?"

"Yes. A ward of father's. Names will mean more to her than me."

That proved true, though fortunately those Heliana knew were only casual acquaintances —farmers and labourers mostly, a circumstance explained by the letter from Anders that reached Kel a few days after the list Wyldon had had Harailt procure by firespell.

Mindelan

9 August 462

My dearest Keladry,

You will know by now of the attack by wolfships we suffered two days past, and that Conal has been taken from us. I spoke with him dying, and am charged to offer you and Tobeis his apologies and convey the pride he had come to feel in your achievements.

He died well, saving many. The wolfships that evaded the Navy drove ashore south of the harbour, and the Scanrans caught people still in the fields. Conal and Inness rode to help, outpacing others. I lagged behind with my cursed leg, and by the time I got there it was all but done—Inness has cuts to his arm and side, but Conal was unhorsed, and though he got himself upright took a body wound he could not survive. When Inness and I were by him he was far gone, but clearly asked your forgiveness. Inness believes he was thinking of his mistaken sympathy for the former lord of Tirrsmont. I am unsure, but wonder if he might not have been remembering the way he bullied you when you were young, in the way they say your life passes before your eyes. Perhaps you know better than I. Whatever he meant he next said he was sorry not to have apologised to Tobeis—I do not know for what—and his last words were "Tell her I have tried to be worthy of her".

We buried him in the little graveyard beyond the orchard, where Grandpa Mindelan and his wives lie. The others who died that day are buried there too, so it is now almost full. When the Black God's priest ended with the blessing divine chimes sounded, as they do for the dedication of a shrine or the swearing of a gods' oath, and there was a strange sound—a wind amid silence, such as I have never heard. The priest said he believed it to be the god's own voice. Sir Alanna suggested we ask you about it, and if you can tell us more, Keladry, please do—it has caused much wondering.

Conal was never happy, and I often wished he had found the right woman and married. But it was not to be. I hope and pray the chimes and that sound mean he has found solace in the Peaceful Realms.

When shall we see you and Tobeis? I know you bear great responsibilities, little sister, and everyone speaks of the marvel of New Hope, but please come when you can. We miss you, and are eager to meet Tobeis. Vorinna and Tilaine—and Inness of course—and the children join me in sending you our love, and what comfort we can in shared grief.

Written with sorrow by your brother,

Anders

Tobe and Dom, coming from a session with the horses, found her silent at her desk with the letter

before her, cheeks wet. Tobe knew of Conal's death but Dom didn't—she'd seen no reason to make any announcement. Mutely she passed the letter to Tobe, and distantly admired even as she hated the restraint Dom showed in not looking over his shoulder as he frowningly made his way through Anders's spidery hand. He passed the letter to Dom, not asking permission, and before she could object came round the desk to grasp her in a hug, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Will you help me tell the Black God I accept his apology and he should rest peaceful,

Ma?"

"Of course I will, sweeting." Her arms were around him, tears still leaking, blurring Dom's face as he read. "Of course I will."

Finishing, Dom half reached a hand but let it fall back to his side. "I'm sorry, Kel. How long have you known?"

"A few days. The letter came today."

"You didn't say. I thought you'd been quiet."

"There wasn't any point. No-one else here will mourn him."

She saw him bite off a retort and wondered what it would have been. "That's not the point, Kel." His voice became sergeant-brisk. "What was it in Sir Anders's letter that's made you cry?"

"Worthy of me." Leaking gathered into sobs and this time he did come to her, resting a hand awkwardly on her free shoulder as Tobe's arms tightened hard. Shame she couldn't have described swirling in her, she forced tears down, feeling the headache start. "Who am I my brother should die being worthy of me? It's alright, Dom—I just don't much like what the gods have done to me, and right now it seems very wrong that I'm alive to know Conal isn't. I'm sure whatever happens next will drive it out of my mind."

Startled he fixed blue eyes on her. "You sound like an old campaigner, Kel." "I feel like one. Last year counts as several lifetimes. Literally."

He gave a bleak smile. "And figuratively. But that's not the point. When old campaigners say that, they're coping. It's not true. And from what Sir Anders says, if Sir Conal knew what you were feeling he'd be shocked out of what wits he had."

The headache lessened with her involuntary smile. "He probably would. Poor Conal. His spirit must be as confused as he always was, but he never lacked heart. And I know the Black God has him safe. It's just … I don't know."

Tobe lifted his head to look at her. "You think the timeway thing means you're affecting everything? Because Mindelan was attacked in revenge for burning Rathhausak and killing that Nothing Man?"

"Not really, Tobe. It just feels like it today." She looked at Dom through eyes that were still blurry. "It's your joke theory of the timeway spiral again, Dom. Up at the sharp end. Sakuyo's laughter— / very many hot needles / and infinite grace." Did the god draw breath?

Dom frowned. "Is that Yamani poetry?"

"Of a sort. Ask Neal—he's the poetry man, whatever Yuki says."

"Point. But jokes and poetry aren't so far apart, Kel." "In Wolset's case, certainly."

The laugh burst from him but it was her heart that felt eased, and she gently disengaged Tobe, fishing out a handkerchief to dry her eyes.

"It's good to hear you laugh, Dom. And you should prepare yourself—my Lord says he'll send Wolset and the lads over some time to see you. Tobe, let's go see if the Black God's willing to pass on a message."


	21. Chapter 19

Loneliness

Chapter Nineteen — Loneliness

16 August – 15 September

Harvesting began and Adner was not the only one jubilant at the goddess's bounty. Yields were high, quality good, work uninterrupted by alarms, and the only problem again a shortage of sacks and jars, remedied by woodturners and weavers. The reserves that began to pile up as grains were threshed, berries picked, and roots dug were a tangible self-sufficiency, enhanced for Kel by the shortages Maggur would face, but in her military heart she was better pleased with the completion of tunnel and corral work: it harmonised better with grief.

The journey from cave to corral was eerie, and Kel knew the first time she made it she'd come here when she couldn't sleep. The long straight through the fin, darkness stretching away on either side, made her conscious of unknown tons of rock above and depths below. Beyond the straight, lighter limestone was a relief, and the defences would gladden any commander. At each corner of the tunnel defensive positions with arrowloops were cut on either side and petrified grids could be locked into place. The tunnel mouth had first emerged twelve feet above ground level, and the descending slope into which the last section had been transformed concealed a mageblast trap over a spiked pit. If it ever had to be blown attackers would face an opening higher than any man's reach, barred and approachable only through a forest of obsidian enfiladed by more arrowloops from a short, parallel tunnel cut on the outer side.

Kel's biggest problem was organisational. As things stood Mastiff Eighth had responsibility for patrolling, Northwatch Fourteenth for field guard, and New Hope First for walls; Connac's squad were supernumeraries, rotating wherever was short-handed. On paper, ignoring Dom's irregular command, manning corral and tunnel defences was Uinse's responsibility, but with three shifts to cover he'd be badly stretched and Kel wanted New Hope Second formed under Dom's command. She'd started negotiations with Vanget and Wyldon during the commanders' conference, asking for priority on new convict squads. There weren't as many volunteers this year, but should be five squads, and she didn't mind an understrength company if she could properly constitute it as a New Hope company. Vanget had hummed and hawed, but gave in. The convicts wouldn't arrive for several weeks, and Kel detached Connac's squad and another to keep a skeleton watch at the corral. Numair set up a magelink to New Hope's gatehouse; a farrier began setting up; and despite the extra distance to walk Dom moved to the secondary headquarters in the corral.

Horses needed accustoming to the tunnel. Tobe and Zerhalm once more worked wonders, Peachblossom and Alder taking point and guard to walk strings through and back again. Daine eased the way by collectively assuring horses and ponies that, however strange the stone road, it was safe. At the same time she had strings led by the roadway to the corral's main entrance, while others returned that way: she didn't know if they were under observation, by Scanrans or anyone else, but if they were had no intention of making it obvious an interior passage to the corral had been opened.

By the same lights, when she gave building team and tunnellers a feast before Geraint departed, she asked those leaving to be close-mouthed about what they'd done. She had unexpected rewards to offer—black-opal matrix she'd solicited with royal permission from Lady Maura, received with bliss by Amiir'aan and Bel'iira; and for Geraint, on behalf of his team, a

model of New Hope she'd helped Tobe carve with Amourta's wing-blade from river sand Var'istaan had lightly bonded. After they'd painstakingly detailed walls and buildings, the basilisk treated the sand again, hardening and properly colouring; the whole was striking and she could see Geraint was touched. He made a good speech saying New Hope was an education, mentioned his desire in peace to undertake civil architecture with basilisk and ogre partners, and sketched appealing imaginations of spaces that were enjoyable and beautiful rather than defensive. Replying briefly, and thinking that in this, as in other things, she'd start as she meant to go on, Kel made it clear to all in the team that they'd always be welcome at New Hope, to visit or settle, and suggested how much building would be needed when a fief was established. New Hope had great strengths but, in the nature of the refugees and convict soldiers who constituted the majority of the founding population, farming, mining, general labouring, trapping, and woodworking were common and urban trades, from building to healing and Dogging, severely underrepresented. She had notions to remedy the deficiency, including the Craftsbeings' Guild and the university of mortal and immortal cooperation, but ducal elevation of Mindelan with the work that would demand cut off one source she might have tried, recruiting directly from other fiefs would not be popular, and people like these builders and craftsmen-artisans could make a big difference.

The partying went on long after she'd retired. Laughter drifting up from the green kept her awake a while and followed her into uneasy dreams filled with drifts of blossom under leaden winter skies. After pre-dawn glaive practice and the children's weapons class she felt virtuous watching heavy-eyed builders drag themselves to the messhall, but waved farewell an hour later with a sharp sense of loss. Geraint had become a friend, and though she couldn't broach command issues with him, nor relax into the acerbic humour she shared with Dom, his conversation had been a boon, filled with unusual buildings and not dominated by war or pointless but unavoidable worry about the timeway.

With impeccable timing Jacut and his men returned the same day to be happily startled by progress in their absence. All seemed to walk taller than they had; most who'd gone with Jacut were Corus people who hadn't expected to see family again for a long time, if ever. She'd told Jacut to take a few days before starting back but in the event he'd been spared that decision, as he explained drinking tea in her office.

"After we delivered the coffin and ring, Lady Kel, we was given rooms in the Own's barracks and told to wait on 'Is Majesty's pleasure. I asked if the lads could see family an' they said yes but them as saw the battle or what 'appened to poor Sir Merric should stay available. Well, that was all of us, so I made sure I knew where they was going to be an' 'ad 'em all check twice a day at the … at an inn what everyone uses."

Kel quirked an eyebrow. "Would that be the Dancing Dove?"

He grinned. "Yus, it would. Shoulda known you'd know, Lady Kel. I 'ad a quiet word with its owner, if you knows who I mean, an' while I didn't say nothin' I shouldn't I did say 'ow all us former felons was doin' here. 'E was very glad to 'ear it, 'avin' hacquaintance among us as you might say, and asked me to send you 'is thanks and respects."

Kel abruptly had a variety of thoughts culminating in the notion that she ought perhaps to pay the owner of the Dancing Dove a visit herself. There was that business of his stand against men who hurt women, and the Protector's Maids, as well as other things that might be explored. Her attention came back to Jacut.

"It was four days before we was summoned but then we found ourselves talkin' not just to 'Is but 'Er Majesty too, an' the Prince and Princess. You coulda knocked me down with a feather, Lady Kel—I 'aven't been so surprised since that Dog's 'and landed on me shoulder. But they was all friendly, an' at first just wanted to 'ear about the battle an' what we seen of Sir Merric an'

Rogal." He paused. "'Is Majesty said you did give 'im the chop yourself, Lady Kel?" She nodded and Jacut pursed his lips. "So we told 'em what we seen, an' 'Er Majesty asked about that shot at Vinson an' the bow, with the Prince and Princess chippin' in about 'ow they'd seen it when Lord Weiryn give it you. An' they wanted to know what we thought about immortals, an' 'ow everything was 'ere at New Hope, so we told 'em—Sir Neal treatin' us all an' the immortals an' everything. 'Is Majesty seemed to know a lot already, mind, and 'e 'ad the layout clear as a bell."

Kel thought explanation best kept simple. "He had me make him a plan." She made a mental apology to the elemental, amused at herself.

"Musta been a goodun, Lady Kel. Anyway, it was more than an 'our before they let us go, thankin' us"—he seemed more incredulous at that than anything—"an' tellin' us not to say a word to anyone about Vinson before 'is death's announced. Which we 'aven't." An accusing note entered his voice. "You didn't warn me we'd be up for a grillin' by them."

Kel offered laughing apology. "I'm sorry—it didn't occur to me, though I suppose it should have. I expect Their Majesties wanted a different view from the one they usually get. We have been surprising people, rather."

Mikal grinned. "We have, Lady Kel, but I imagine there might have been other reasons too. Still, I'm glad to know His Majesty doesn't think it beneath him to do something like that."

"Mmm." Curious, Kel risked a dangerous question. "What did your lads make of it all?"

He blinked. "I don't rightly know, Lady Kel, though we talked about it enough ridin' back. We did agree 'Er Majesty really was Peerless, an' the Prince and Princess seem good people —they said they remembered us from their visit."

"They probably do, Jacut. They practice remembering names and faces. Besides, who could forget you?"

He grinned. "Ah. We thought they was bein' polite like, but I'll tell the lads we shouldn't 'ave doubted 'em. But 'Is Majesty … I dunno, to be honest. 'E's a 'andsome cove with them blue eyes, and 'e was nice as pie, but I reckon you gotta be pretty twisty if you're wearin' shoes that big. I don't think I'd like to be one as got on 'is bad side." Uinse laughed and Jacut grinned. "Personal like, I mean. There's no 'elpin the other now."

"Oh but there is, Jacut." Kel's soft voice brooked no contradiction. "You and Uinse bear no convict marks, do you? The army might not seem like it but you walk free. Rathhausak cancelled all debts. And Their Majesties don't entertain felons, do they? Think of the fuss there'd be. But they take time to talk to soldiers on a confidential mission."

Leaving them to ponder it she turned conversation to the imminent formation of New Hope Second, and whether they should transfer one or two squads from the First, replacing them with new men, to give the fledgling Second backbone. Uinse was reluctant—no commander liked to see familiar faces transferred out—but promised to discuss it with Dom. There was also staffing the lookout post that would soon crown the fin. The steps were within fifty feet of the crest, and had switched back to aim for a hump of rock that rose an extra fifteen feet; besides the question of what the post itself should best look like there was its addition to the First's duties and whether, given its greater range and field of view, enabling communication with patrols in valleys to the west, it should also be on Mastiff Eighth's roster. Final decisions couldn't be made until the lines of sight were established, but she was glad to get them thinking and let them go, reminding Uinse to make sure Jacut and all who'd travelled introduced themselves to Amourta.

The stormwing was growing fast and had already begun to moult her down—carefully

collected, though Kel couldn't decide what use it might have—and grow flight feathers. When not experimenting with icelights a baffled Numair was trying to understand how Amourta was able to manufacture steel in such quantities out of nothing, but Kel just filed it under 'immortal magic'; what interested her was diet and she'd watched the way Cloestra was introducing her chick to mortal emotions, and the special attractions of the playground. Cloestra seemed to be teaching her Tortallan, Common, Scanran, and Yamani all at once; her grasp of them was already formidable, and Kel had several times found Yuki taking advantage, chatting with both stormwings in Yamani with Ryokel bouncing on her knees and absorbing her mother's tongue. Yuki also insisted on speaking Yamani at home one day a week, but remarked to Kel, dimpling, that Neal's pronunciation, grammar, and modality were not examples she wished Ryokel to follow and Cloestra knew all modes perfectly as well as having a good accent. Having spent so much time looking after her in the egg Amiir'aan also had a proprietary interest, and could often be found talking to Amourta in any of the tongues she was learning; Chervey might also be there, apparently intent. What he might learn was moot but he was already a very different young man than the one Gothas had found easy to persuade.

Seeing the lad with the strange companions he'd made reminded Kel and she went to find the older Rathhausak couple who'd taken in Freja Haraldsdottir's son and the other Scanran orphan. A long discussion left her feeling pretty much everything that could be done was being done—the children were thriving, edging into chattering toddlerdom, and the resources allocated for their care were being used. There were no other Scanran children except Irnai, but in a way that was for the good as the boys' natural playmates were Tortallan and the words they were beginning to learn as much Tortallan as Scanran, with Common thrown in. They'd also lost any fear of Amiir'aan, Bel'iira, and ogre children, and Freja's son seemed to have no ill memory of Kel from the gatehouse, extending a chubby hand to pull her hair. How they'd fare in the longer term Kel had no way of knowing but decided her consciousness of their isolation was exaggerated. Yes, they were Scanrans among enemies, and anomalous among New Hope's Scanrans, but they were unaware of that and by the time they learned should have established identities as New Hopers. She had a kind of envy—not for their misfortunes, but the possibility of overcoming them. It was an ugly echo of her consciousness of the price command exacted on friendship, community, and integration, and she left as unsettled as she'd arrived.

A couple of days later Geraint appeared in the spellmirror to say the ravine by Mastiff was bridgeable and request Spiir'aan. Kel sent the basilisk off with an escort despite his protests.

"We look after our own and that's you. I'd be grateful if you could help Lord Wyldon with any petrification that might aid his defences—the abatis, obviously, but also fireproofing. He's an excellent district commander but not always, um, imaginative about innovations."

Basilisks' eyes didn't really twinkle. "Of course, Protector."

Watched the party go she wondered what widening exposure to New Hope's collaborative model might do. An answer of sorts came when her report to Wyldon was dominated by his bemused account of the popularity Spiir'aan had earned by petrifying the abatis—"You could shave with the edges he's put on those spikes, Keladry"—and noticing a problem with a spring where seepage was making for much boot-cleaning.

"He politely requested some men, had a sough dug, and petrified its base and sides as well as an area round the spring so the footing's always good. The men are, well, ecstatic wouldn't be too strong. They're asking me what they can do by way of thanks, and I don't have the first idea."

Feeling revenged for his amusement about handfastings, Kel blandly recommended black-opal matrix and went about her day with a smile she didn't realise people noted with pleasure and relief.

Punctilious as ever, Brodhelm returned on the last day of August and Mikal left in turn. Kel granted leave to those wounded in May and at Scything Wheat whose homes were close enough, and half-a-dozen went with Mikal. She saw them off with Brodhelm and walked the alure with him, Nari on her shoulder, while he told her about Frasrlund.

"It was odd, Lady Kel. I'm not sure what I expected, but worse damage certainly. The land's in bad shape—where Scanrans camped it's horribly poached and soiled, and foraging's done a lot of harm. Every tree for a couple of miles bar fruit orchards was taken for firewood and even some of those were cut last winter. It looks as if they lost a lot of men to illness too, and didn't or couldn't burn them so there are shallow graves all over we'll have to do something about —a filthy business that'll be. But the city's hardly touched. Lord Ennor and Sir Alanna did a fine job, and since you stopped the killing devices there haven't been many casualties on our side, even in combat. Everyone looks pinched but they're not so badly off and know it."

"So morale's good?"

"Yes. Not like here, though. It made me realise what I'd got used to. Our people are proud to be here and often you don't even have to ask them once. They've a snap missing at Frasrlund."

"Well, a siege must be different. At least we get out and about between raids. How was your family?"

"Oh, well enough. It was nice to see them, of course, and my sister's had another bairn since I was there last—a son. He seems bonny, but she's become as much a matchmaker as my ma and kept introducing me to her unwed friends." He laughed self-consciously. "It was a change but I got tired of everyone looking astonished every time I said anything. That's something else I've come to take for granted—the way we mix in, nobles, knights and commoners, mortals and immortals, children and adults. But I'd only to mention an immortal or Rathhausakers or pretty much anything and you'd think I announced the sky was yellow and the sun blue. I'd expected that about big events—Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady visiting, and the Prince and Princess. That's only natural. And Quenuresh. But I'd forgotten how scared most are of any immortal. Made me think of Gothas and Chervey."

"I suppose. But they had less excuse—they could see basilisks and ogres not harming anyone, and still chose to attack a child. If you've not seen it, though, it must seem a tall tale."

"Yes, that's it—they seemed to think New Hope a fabled place, like wherever it was Sir Alanna won the Dominion Jewel."

"Chitral Pass." Kel recalled Alanna's account of a dire snowstorm and great rock ape. "But that's thousands of miles away and no Tortallan except the Lioness has been there. We're right here."

"I said that too, but it made no odds. They wanted to hear about it, mind, but like I was a minstrel telling of a magic castle." He glanced at her sidelong. "And a warrior queen."

"Eh?"

He stopped by a crenel equidistant from sentries, looking out, and she leant against the merlon, gathering seed from her pocket for Nari.

"You, Lady Kel. They knew about you as a page, of course, and your success jousting— that made rounds everywhere, I think. So did your report, of course. But they seem to have had plenty of other news and mashed it all together so it makes no sense at all. I told them you weren't really ten feet tall and still put yourself on all the work rosters but I don't think they believed me."

Kel shook her head, as much annoyed as embarrassed. "What other news? The tauros

thing?"

"Well, that was in there, but I'm not sure they quite understood. It was more what happened in Corus, with Torhelm and that assassin."

"Ah. Did I order gods to strike Torhelm or do it myself?"

"A bit of both, and they had you impervious to knives and dissolving Tirrsmont single-handed. There was also a wild story about a snowfight with dragons."

"Oops."

He stared at her. "You did have a snowfight with dragons?"

"Yes—only Kawit and Kitten. Lord Diamondflame watched. It was Midwinter Day."

"Oh. Well of course—what else does anyone do on Midwinter Day?"

"Pish. We were keeping the children amused." She told him the story. "I was going to blame Alanna for telling tales at Frasrlund but she wasn't around for that. I suppose a lot of people saw—there was a crowd by the end, sheltering under Diamondflame's wing and cheering children on. I'm surprised you didn't hear of it from Tobe or Irnai—they told the tale when we were snowed in."

"I shall consult them." He smiled gravely. "And perhaps I should have given folk more credit but I got annoyed about it. They didn't seem to see you as a person any more."

Kel looked out over the valley, watching one of the griffins return to their cave, and didn't look at him. "Neal and Yuki say I took care of that here with that pail. Did you tell them that story?"

"I was asked, yes, but they already knew it. And not from the Lioness, Lady Kel—her escort, I think. It had grown in telling, though, so I gave a true version. I think they preferred the exaggerated one."

"How was it—no, I don't want to know." She reached to stroke Nari's head. "As a child I dreamed of being a knight like the Lioness, because she helped people and kept them safe. Then I became The Girl, with half Tortall thinking they knew me and had the right to say anything that crossed their minds. I loved it in the Own because I could fool myself I was just one of them, and get on with whatever the job was, like everyone else. Now I do help people and keep them safe, and I wonder how Alanna survived it. Her temper doesn't surprise me at all." She saw he didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You didn't, Lady Kel. I was just surprised—you don't usually say things like that and you're always so calm."

"Except when I'm not. But it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does." He hesitated. "Forgive me, but how old are you?"

"Twenty, just after Midsummer."

"Twenty." She saw him blink. "You were eighteen at Rathhausak?"

"Yes. Not long nineteen when I died."

"I don't suppose age makes any odds to that, but for the rest … when I was twenty I'd just made corporal and thought I was doing very well. I couldn't have begun to do what you're doing here. But Sir Neal's right—that pail made me think differently about what it costs you. I don't suppose there's much I can do, but if ever there is, you shout."

Moved, she rested a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Brodhelm, I will. Just keep remembering I'm only a person, eh? It'll be easier, I hope, when peace comes and we don't have to have such tight security and discipline all the time. As it is I have to stand apart anyway—that's command. And people will get used to living with immortals—for better or worse they're here and it's a lot nicer if we get on." A thought struck her. "When they've a chance you should invite your family to see the reality themselves. It even works with Quenuresh, after a while. But the gods are another story. Even my friends stand further away these days, except Neal and Yuki—and Owen, I suppose, not that I've seen him for a while. And that's hard." She'd never felt so lonely, in truth, but to say so would be a step too far. "Ah well. Moaning does no good. You should see Amourta —she's growing feathers faster than you'd think possible."

He accepted the change of subject and they headed for the terrace, then the tunnel, which he hadn't seen complete. From a comment Neal made Kel knew Brodhelm must have spoken to him about her mood, and Yuki made a point of inviting her to eat more often, affording her company where she didn't have to guard her tongue so fiercely and could forget the space that seemed to surround her with everyone else but Tobe. Dom often ate with Neal and Yuki too, and seemed more at ease, able to mention the aching benefit to his leg of walking back and forth from the corral. All three were busy with plans for Ryokel's nameday, especially when a grandmaternal letter confirmed Duchess Wilina would indeed be coming. So would Alanna, like Kel standing as godsmother; but who to ask as godsfather was an urgent puzzle. Neal had intended to ask Merric, and considered asking Baron George, only to discover he was away and Alanna wouldn't say when he'd be back. Kel thought she'd better not say anything about Rajmuat, though she wondered whether he'd found Aly yet, if she was still alive. Keiichi would have been a solution but wasn't available, and with less than three weeks to go an answer came to Kel.

"Yuki, did you not want to ask Cricket?"

"Of course, Keladry-chan, but we already have two godsmothers. She is sorry but understands."

"Well, as you want me to officiate I could step back." Yuki looked thunderous and Kel hurried on, wisely skipping her case that she didn't entirely believe she'd be alive to do Ryokel any good and wasn't sure she'd wish herself on anybody to begin with. "But I was thinking you should ask Roald. You've always got on with him, Neal, and he's a good man—if there's a bit of transfer from Shinko he'd understand. He's at Northwatch so he could get here, and if you got Numair to firespeak to Corus Cricket could come with your mother, couldn't she?"

Neal smote his forehead. "I'm an idiot. That's perfect, Kel. And Mother will be delighted to bring Shinko."

Yuki liked it also. "It will be good to see Cricket—a year exactly. It will be like a reunion from the dedications."

The thought struck them all except Dom simultaneously, and he looked surprise at their

mutual expression. "What is it?"

"We had other visitors then, Dom." Feeling the irreverence that increasingly possessed her as a balance for the reverence that pressed on her Kel made her hands into antlers, raising them to her head, and Yuki's hand flashed up to cover her face. "Daine's here, and we owe her Ma and Da big thanks—so will they pay a return visit too?"

"Oh. Ah." Dom might have become used to much that passed as normal at New Hope, but not having been here for the most spectacular manifestation of the divine he didn't have the same apprehension of gods dropping in for dinner as a serious possibility. When Kel consulted Daine, though, she grinned and shook her head.

"I'll pass on the invitation but I doubt it, Kel. There are rules about manifesting, and both Ma and Da have already been given a lot of leeway." A sadness showed in her face. "I do get to talk to them quite often now, and I'm allowed to visit occasionally, but there are limits. And we're likely to ask another indulgence before too long—we want to try for another child and Ma won't want to miss a nameday of our own."

Kel hugged her. "Of course—luck with that." She said nothing of intelligence gathering but felt considerable alarm at the prospect of continued blindness. "I wouldn't want them to think we were ungrateful, and I'm not sure how best to express our —my—thanks for their gifts."

"I'm sure they know, Kel, but I'll tell them. And the care you give all children will make Ma fair content. Da's harder to please and I don't know him as well, besides him having been a god forever. But he'll have liked that bowshot, so why not give him an arrow you've fletched? He'll appreciate the thought."

"Huh. Alright." She had Amourta's down and the blade that would trim it, though what the virtues of such fletching might be she had no idea. "Thanks. So long as we're giving no offence, Daine. And I'm glad you and Numair will be here again."

"Us too, Kel, but we'll have to go straight afterwards. Kitten's been without us too long. We should have gone already but Numair's caught up with icelights and watching Amourta's moult has been wonderful."

Kel was surprised they'd stayed so long, and nodded. She'd miss Daine badly, not just as the only person with whom she didn't have to be so careful about gods—or not careful in the same way—but Kitten shouldn't be deprived and Kel would be travelling south for Midwinter. Any doubt they'd be going evaporated a few days later, when an excited Numair summoned Kel from her desk, talking too fast to be understood.

"I think I've cracked it, Kel. I had it all back to front. Brodhelm, Varik, and Quenuresh used ice that froze naturally—perfectly sensible, of course, but it meant it had frozen unevenly, at different rates, and there are flaws, inclusions—all sorts of things. I thought those were what was having the effects I was sensing and the problem was I couldn't see how to duplicate them magically but you don't have to."

He beamed at her and Kel smiled cautiously back. "You don't?"

"No, they've nothing to do with it. They were actually making the lights less efficient, which is what I would have expected. The property we want is an interference between that mode of rock spell, which keeps petrified ice translucent, and the spell Quenuresh used to let Varik's Gift enter the lattice. And she taught me that spell, which isn't special spidren magic, like their webbing, just a spidren way of doing things, so all we need is more petrified ice."

"Oh. Well, good. It won't be cold enough for a while, though."

He laughed. "We don't need to wait for winter, Kel. Come and see." They headed for the spring, collecting Var'istaan from the woodshops where he was making stoneware. "I can teach Varik, Forist, and Anner the freezing spell, and Quenuresh of course. I bet basilisks can do it anyway—it's only reverse heating. You'll need moulds but I can't wait for those so I'll shape the water magically."

"You will?"

He grinned at her. "Yes, I will. Watch."

Standing by the cistern black fire sparked at his fingertips, and he drew a thick ribbon of water into the air, accumulating into a quivering mass hanging in the air in front of him. Kel stepped hastily back but not a drop spilled as Numair contemplated it, frowning, before shaping it into a hollow circle.

"I think that torus shape will be efficient. Now …"

Abruptly the water-circle was engulfed in black fire and Numair spoke a word in what Kel thought must be Old Thak. She felt a ripple of heat pass her followed by a wash of cold like a breath of winter in the mild air, and when she'd blinked sudden tears from her eyes at its bite the black fire had cleared and the water had the sheen of ice.

"There. Var'istaan, can you petrify that, please, keeping the rock clear as you did with the natural ice."

The basilisk moved forward, positioning himself so only the ice circle was between him and the cliff. The familiar shrieking avalanche of the rock spell sounded, with rumbling modulations Kel recognised from rendering spikes into obsidian; as the echo died Numair summoned the petrified circle to his hand and set it on the ground. The sun was high enough to shine over the fin, and the newmade rock gleamed.

"All we should need to do now is set Quenuresh's facilitating spell into the rock-ice, without any light … this is such an odd way of using magic but it must have made sense to a spidren once … and there we go." Kel could see no difference. "It needs to fill, but a few minutes should be enough for a start. Then we'll see if it's holding what falls on it."

They wound up waiting longer, because Numair fell into discussion with Var'istaan about modulations of the rock spell. Kel couldn't follow at all but when she coughed he looked up.

"Sorry, Kel. It's fascinating. Now, let's have some shadow here."

He scattered black fire into a sheet that blocked the sunlight and below it they could all see the rock circle glimmering light.

"Excellent—it's nice to be right about something. And it's really not complicated, if you've a handy basilisk." He grinned at Var'istaan. "So what shapes was it you were wanting, Kel? Pillars for the roadway?"

"Yes—three or four for the roadway and some for the moatbridge, the road to the stonebridge, the stonebridge itself, and the corral. Long thin strips for the edges of things and the cave system would be good too. And maybe some small ones for the shrines."

"Right." He paused. "They won't charge with light in the caves, Kel—they have to be outside. I can make you magelights."

"If we've a stock of icelights we can rotate them. Put them on brackets and swap in one that's been outside at the start of a shift."

"Oh, right. That's a good idea. But let me do those pillars while we're all here. Ready, Var'istaan?"

Before Kel could say anything more water was rising from the cistern and forming a long column a foot square with flat ends. She stood back as the rock spell sounded again, explaining to interested observers what they were doing. After an hour there were a score of full-size pillars, half-a-dozen smaller ones three feet long and only six inches square, and a pile of smaller rods that Numair had been able to shape, and Var'istaan to petrify, five at a time. Wiping his brow Numair set Quenuresh's spell in all, and straightened, coming towards her where she stood with people she'd sent for while he and Var'istaan worked—Daine, carrying Sarralyn, Brodhelm, Varik, Kuriaju, and Idrius Valestone.

"There you go, Kel. I can do more if you need and Var'istaan's willing, but that should be enough to start with. Hi Mageletlet." He bent to kiss Sarralyn, who beamed.

"They're wonderful, Numair." Kel laid a hand on his arm. "But we need to talk about this. Under the terms of the Guild charter all basilisk work goes through it, and there's going to be a big demand for these. So I think you've just become a member."

"Oh I wasn't thinking about that sort of thing, Kel."

"You're going to think about it now. I won't have the Guild fail to give due credit and mageletlets cost money, you know." Daine grinned and Kel reached a finger for Sarralyn to grasp. "Oh yes you do. And if you don't want to spend it now, Numair, save it for her dowry."

Giving orders for pillars to be set up on the roadway and others taken to the corral she shepherded everyone to the conference room. Besides making sure everyone got a fair share, including a pleased Varik and the absent Quenuresh, she had other concerns: the army could use icelights and shouldn't be impeded by cost any more than the lower city in Corus, but if the King wanted his Palace grounds lighting or rich nobles their seats there was no reason they shouldn't pay well. No-one had a problem with that but it was nice to see Numair looking bemused as Idrius discussed ways of making sure appropriate prices were charged. Then Brodhelm pointed out Merric had been involved in the original idea.

"I was wanting lights but he was the one who dragged Varik to see Quenuresh, Lady Kel. It wouldn't have happened without him."

She pondered. "We'll include Merric's estate as a beneficiary on equal footing. I'll see what his parents want to do with the money."

Quenuresh's consent would be needed but eventually Idrius went off with a pile of notes. Daine had left when Sarralyn grew bored with adults not paying attention; Kel and Numair found them with Cloestra and Amiir'aan before the shrines, watching Amourta glide awkwardly from terrace to main level, squeaking excitement, and being carried back up by Amiir'aan, wings tightly furled for safety, so she could do it again. Cloestra looked very pleased with herself and the world.

"She will be flying properly in a week, once muscles strengthen." "So soon? I thought you'd said it would be three months."

"I had not considered the advantages of being among other kinds and having steps. A hatchling in an eyrie cannot practice gliding like this unless there is no danger on the ground and

there are two adults to return her to the eyrie in a sling. Neither our teeth nor claws are good for grasping without harming."

Kel winced. "Ah. Well, I'm glad she's making such good progress. You should tell Kitten, Daine—it's more accelerated immortal development. How does anyone think the shrines should be lit?"

They tried small pillars and rods in various places but in the end Kel decided to wait until she could see what they were like shining at night, and moved them to the alure to catch as much sunlight as possible. The bigger pillars were heavy enough to need magepower or teamwork to lift, and by dusk only three had been set up on the roadway, outside the gates, at the turn, and a little below Pizzle—but even those made an astonishing difference, and the waiting piles became a glowing heap as darkness drew down, attracting enquiries from returning harvesters. Kel explained them at dinner, with the Guild's involvement and the prospects of another unique trade item, and when she left the messhall, heading for bed, she indulged herself by collecting one glowing rod to take to her room. Halfway back across the green she heard her name called and saw Dom limping towards her from the caves.

"Kel, do you have strong feelings about how the corral should be lit? I'm not sure how bright these pillars will be but I was wondering about sentries' night vision."

"That's a thought." The smaller icelights around the wall weren't directly visible to sentries because they were under the alure, but that wouldn't be the case in the corral, and if the whole of that space were lit there might well be loss as well as gain involved. "Do you want me to have a look?"

"If you would—it's not something I've ever had to decide."

"And you think I have?" She set down the rod to collect on her return and fell in beside him, automatically slowing her stride. "Half the things I decide I'm guessing, you know."

"You guess well then."

"Pfui. We don't know that yet." He looked a question and she grimaced. "Day-to-day stuff seems alright, but the test will be whatever's due to happen. And then it'll be too late."

He carefully negotiated the slope to the cavemouth, leading with his good leg. "I'm not sure I understand that, Kel. The prophecy doesn't say anything except that when the stormwings play here again the war will end, and I thought I saw the logic. But watching Amourta today I thought, well, isn't that stormwings playing?"

The tunnel was just wide enough for them to be side by side. "Mmm. You might think so but I doubt Shakith did. And you've seen how careful Barzha is about corpses." She shrugged. "I agree there are holes and I try to think about them, but the sense I have is that the prophecy means something big. Shakith didn't tell Irnai and have her repeat it, which is what usually happens—she spoke directly through her. Knocked her out doing it—she'd have fallen if I hadn't caught her."

"Really? Neal said something about that, then clammed up and said he wasn't sure what he was allowed to say."

She considered. They reached the bridge and she greeted the soldier from Connac's squad on duty, not commenting on the book he'd hastily stashed as he rose from a seat in the little curving guardroom that provided arrowloops: it was dull, isolated duty, what mattered was wakeful presence rather than surveillance, and she could see the book was a battered copy of Emry of Haryse's military memoirs that had been making rounds after she'd recommended it to

Uinse—proper soldierly reading. As they went on she remarked the issue, suggesting when rosters were established a pair of soldiers might do better.

"As to the prophecy, Dom, I don't see why you shouldn't know the whole story. I'd probably have told you last year at Mastiff if I'd seen you before you went. Or at Neal's wedding, if you hadn't been called away. The point of secrecy was the prophecy itself—the rest was only confidential." She told him about strange interruptions by the elemental, and Shakith's ringing hawk's voice with its effect on Irnai. They reached the limestone and began to negotiate the defensive turns. "It's partly having heard that voice, I suppose—it went right through you. Your uncle said he'd heard it once when a Pearlmouth seer prophesied, and you don't forget. But there's another consideration. With this roil in the timeway, whatever it is, seers say the future's all shards and fragments, which I thought it was anyway but even more so, apparently. Yet this one got through loud and clear, from Shakith herself and in the King's presence. And Barzha said directly she didn't believe it was any skirmish."

"Huh. Alright, that makes sense. Can I ask what the King thought?"

"You can but I can't tell you much. He doesn't like prophecies at all, any more than Numair—says they're always too vague to act on—but it did underlie the decision to give New Hope proper resources." On the slope to the corral moon as well as icelight glimmered ahead of them and her sense of mischief stirred. "I can't tell you more because I passed out about then. Grabbing Irnai re-opened my shoulder wound and after a bit I got woozy. Your uncle wound up stripping me to my breastband in front of my entire chain of command. I still haven't forgiven him."

He stopped, staring, and lost his struggle not to laugh. "I must tell Uncle Baird you're holding a grudge."

"You dare!"

He shook his head. "And you were always so carefully modest, Kel, even with Cleon. Sir Cleon, I should say. Perhaps it was that Lord Sakuyo of yours having another of his jokes." They emerged into the corral, the stable endwall oddly lit by a glowing pillar propped against it. "I had the lads leave it there because I didn't know where to tell them to put it."

"Mmm." She stopped, impulsively laying a hand on his arm but withdrawing it as she realised what she'd done. "'Even with Cleon', Dom? I wasn't trying to be carefully modest. What does that mean?"

"Eh? Oh, well, it's …" He took a breath. "There was talk when you became my Lord's squire, but the lads soon saw you weren't like that, that you just wanted to learn about fighting and were already better than most of them. And you made it so we almost forgot you were a woman anyway. No, that's not right—we knew you were, but … I don't know … you never said anything that was, well, female, I suppose, and you weren't a woman the way we sometimes talked about women."

Kel was already regretting her question. "You mean I wasn't the kind of woman anyone thought about meeting off duty."

"I suppose. Then word went round about you and Cleon being … sweethearts, but he wasn't around except on Progress sometimes, so we wondered where you were seeing him but never did find out. That's all I meant. I'm sorry—it's disrespectful, but it was just soldiers' talk."

"I imagine it was." She could see how it had been. "You didn't find out where I was seeing Cleon because I wasn't. As for being modest … well, let's just say as a page it had been

made very clear that if I was ever found with a boy in a room with the door closed I'd be dismissed, even if we were both in armour twenty feet apart. I expect caution carried over, especially with the conservatives claiming I was bedding Raoul." And that was enough of that before her heart gave out on her. "Now, what were you thinking about the icelights?"

He didn't look happy but respected her curtailment of the subject, and they talked about possible placements to maximise illumination while protecting night vision. Experimentation was called for, and though the pillars were heavy it wasn't as if they couldn't be moved. Sharply aware of the look of his skin in the strange, mingled light of pillars and a gibbous waxing moon she abruptly agreed on a couple of plans to try and pleaded tiredness before she could embarrass herself any further. Returning through the tunnel she stopped to talk to Connac's man, asking him how he was finding Emry, and enjoying a brief exchange about the peppery old general. The rod was where she'd left it and she took it to her rooms, turning it in her hand and wondering with one part of her mind how Numair had worked it all out while another thought about how flesh might look by its glow. That question at least could be answered, and blowing out the candles she stripped by its soft light, finding the air warm enough to dispense with a nightshirt and looking down at herself as she tucked legs under the sheet. It was more like sunlight than moonlight, which made sense, but had a shimmering quality that softened the scars splotching her body. The one drawback, she realised a little later, was that the light couldn't be turned off, and even in her lassitude made a mental note that covers ought to be available. Ruefully rising again she took it to her sitting room, and returned to bed in the dark, wondering again how to light the shrines before sleep claimed her.

Roald was delighted to stand as Ryokel's godsfather, and Duchess Wilina to have Shinko accompany her despite the additional protocol. It made for a considerable increase in the number of guests expected, and Kel asked Brodhelm's patrollers if they'd relocate for the duration to the corral, clearing a barrack for escorts and, with an added partition, maids. The tunnel could hardly be kept secret but having visiting soldiers and servants constantly traversing it would inevitably lead to more Corus gossip than she wanted; they saw the point and agreed with only ritual grumbling. With Roald and Shinko, Alanna, Baird and Wilina, and—she learned—Wyldon as well as Haryse, Wilina's cousin, coming, and Daine and Numair present, New Hope would for the first time be short of guest rooms, and Kel set basilisks, ogres, and miners not working on the last stretch of steps to creating sets of rooms near the loom chamber. Furnished with wardrobe and bed niches cut from the rock as well as magelights that could be turned off, they were good enough that she could put Wyldon and Haryse here, and who knew when spare capacity might come in handy?

What had once seemed plentiful space was also reduced by the arrival of six convict squads and the formation of New Hope Second. Dom, Uinse, and Jacut had between them decided they didn't want to transfer squads from New Hope First, and had worked out a system of pairings whereby men from the First would work in rotation with new arrivals, showing them the ropes and becoming familiar with the rotas Dom was establishing. Kel left them to it but did give her welcome speech: it wasn't that different from the year before but there were more immortals to introduce, including Cloestra and Amourta, and enough other things that she organised orientation classes covering New Hope's history and probable future, the Guild, areas occupied by spidrens, and signals used by animals—a topic now including what to do if an owl or hawk appeared and rang the bell on the gatehouse roof. Neal began thorough checks, with his usual savage complaints about the treatable going untreated; at least Duke Baird would again assist with serious problems,

including a desperately thin man Neal said had bleeding sores in his guts.

"You see them in rich men who eat badly and are tense all the time." He was lounging in her sitting room after a litany of curses addressed to those who superintended penal mines had finally run down. "Father thinks it's tension that causes them, not diet, and this fellow's grist to his mill. Reben Carpenter he's called, and he's not a villain—he was a clerk who became desperate when a child was ill and stole from his employer. The child died while he was on trial. He begged me to find out how his wife and surviving children are. They lived in Blythdin but got sent packing when he was arrested, and went to her sister near Fenrigh."

"He's a soldier now, Neal. He can use the couriers for personal letters like everyone else. Or are you saying he wants them to join him?"

"He hasn't got that far yet, Kel, but as he regains his health and sees how things work here it'll occur to him, I expect."

"That's tricky. Soldiers can't marry in wartime, but if they're already married there's nothing to stop wives following them if they want, and some do, even living on the front. But it's off-duty business—the army doesn't provide married quarters, and while they can negotiate permission for some things duty rosters can't be bent for that sort of reason. As far as I'm concerned former convicts are no different, and I hope most people feel the same now. There's enough liaisons between Uinse's lads and refugee women, gods know."

"I wasn't sure you knew about that."

"Of course I do, Neal. Men and sex is a fair chunk of the unwritten rules in the Commander's Manual, and once there's peace I expect there'll be a bunch of handfastings. From the lack of children so far I take it you've doled out a goodly number of pregnancy charms."

"With a stern lecture about using them. But I don't see the problem if Carpenter's wife wants to follow him here."

"She's no right unless I give permission, Neal, and if she's not a refugee from Scanrans that's a problem. We all eat at the charge of the Crown—you can't just decide to move in, not while we're an army base and refugee fort. Ask yourself also how many former convicts might be married—do I say any wives and families who wish can come? Or is Reben a special case?"

"He might be, Kel. I think he's here because the other convicts took pity on him in the mines. The rest mostly are villains—thieves or bandits—but they could see he wasn't surviving."

"They like him then? Feel sorry for him?"

"Yes to both, I'd say. But I do see making exceptions is a problem, at least while war lasts. There's one thing though—he was a stores clerk and I suspect a good one. He can do sums in his head faster than me, and he's a neat hand. I don't know if he can fight as well, but he'd be wasted doing nothing but standing watch and sleeping."

"Mmm. With all the food we've grown the last inventory I did took all day, and paperwork expands with everything we add—you wouldn't believe what a fortified corral turns out to need writing down about it—so clerks are stretched. He has to learn to fight, and he'll owe the army service for whatever his sentence was so he can't bank on staying, but there's no reason he can't be an army stores clerk."

The appointment was duly made after meeting the man herself, and taking stock of all the arrivals with Dom in their corral barrack Kel found herself pleased with it, and by and large with

the men. They were villains, but seemed cheerful with it, as Varlan was, and while a few were taking any opportunity to escape a nightmare most had volunteered because word had filtered back about service at New Hope. Kel knew Uinse and Jacut had something to do with that, and as officers whose magemarks had been cancelled after their heroics represented potent proof that the King's offer of army service as a form of redemption was honest. All the new arrivals were suffering from what Kel dubbed Immortals' Intoxication—a stunned, glassy-eyed amazement at what was entirely normal at New Hope—and judging Neal had also been right about Reben Carpenter's popularity, and their anxiety on his behalf, she thought opportunity offered. Fenrigh wasn't far from Eastwatch, on the upper Berint east of the Drell, and she asked Vanget to relay a message to Svein requesting the status of Carpenter's family and conveying news of his whereabouts and improved health. Vanget quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't open any floodgates please, Kel."

She grinned. "I won't, I promise. I've already had occasion to point a few things out. But this man's well liked and he's been genuinely ill with worry about his folk, so a little bit of the army looking after its own won't go amiss, I fancy."

Shaking his head with a smile he agreed, and when Kel was able to tell Reben a few days later that his wife and children were well, settled with her sister, and would be writing to him via regular army couriers, she though he was going to burst into tears. She made clear General Vanget and Commander Svein had co -operated in getting news, and watched with satisfaction as the tale went round like wildfire; with Neal's treatments, the indescribable improvement in diet, and the bustling friendliness of New Hope, it began to transform bandits into loyalists with purpose and new dignity. She wished she could do as much for the prisoners, whose families must have given up hope of them, but if messages to Scanra might have been possible via the smugglers she didn't want word leaking to Maggur. She did talk to Stanar and the other prisoners, and they unhappily agreed the risk of Maggur targeting their families was one they were willing to avoid. They'd settled into routine well but had their own version of Immortals' Intoxication, compounded by how hand-to -mouth their lives had been as Maggur's grip tightened and especially once he'd launched his Tortallan War with promises of conquest and loot behind invincible killing devices. Kel had noted with surprise that Adner had assigned several to work with ogres on terraced fields, but it turned out those folk simply had experience of such farming and were of more benefit there than anywhere else.

"Truth to tell, Lady Kel, from a strictly farming point of view we've enough people we could afford to plough half-a-dozen more fields either side of the fin, and vary crops. With webbing blocking the treeline and ogres shifting rocks to terrace we could exploit more slopes as well. They're good wall builders, and Samiaju has an excellent eye for the lie of the land and what'll work. I know we can't yet because of the need for guards, but there's ground I can't wait to break when peace allows. This is good land, and with the goddess's blessing it's bounteous."

"I'll happily look at plans, Adner, but you're right about guards. We were hit hard when we were stretched this year, and though we've New Hope Second we've lost men and gained new alures."

"I know, Lady Kel. But I'll be glad to go over my thoughts with you. This could be a rich fief in its land, you know, as well as in the Guild."

That was a thought to ponder, and the force of what Adner was saying was driven home spectacularly when the steps up the fin were at last completed and Kel accompanied Var'istaan, Petrin, and Kuriaju to the top. The tunnelled section rising from the gallery extending the alure was no problem, but when she emerged into the open-slot section she took care to keep on the inner side and even as she climbed observed dryly to Var'istaan that a nice, sturdy railing was

needed. Heights didn't usually trouble her these days but the sheer drop growing on her outer side was more compelling than most. The point at which the steps switched -back was considerably higher than the limestone lookout, and the northern valley hung before her like a vision. The stretch of road visible from the lookout was hidden by the valley's curve and the knoll of Haven, but the perspective was generally more complete and gave a kind of view she'd had only from maps and plans. As she continued up New Hope itself claimed her attention, and she steeled herself to climb more centrally so she could see her domain as griffins and stormwings must.

The steps reached the top fifty yards west of the gatehouse, and dived into the bulge of rock on the crest, spiralling through a steeply ramped three-quarter turn to emerge in an octagonal room that was the hollowed-out peak of the bulge, with great windows cut in each side. Basilisk, ogre, and miner gave her a few moments to catch her breath and take in the astounding vistas. The view north wasn't that different from the one at the switchback, but in every other direction the world was made anew. Tracking west Kel could see over the hills and crags of the valleyside and even with the naked eye a stretch of the trail to Mastiff was clear, cresting a ridge two valleys and at least six miles away. The end of the trail where it wound through trees towards the Greenwoods was also visible, and that would have given warning of the first Scanran attack in May minutes before it had become visible from the ground, and saved a life. For the first time the southern valley was visible, and through her spyglass the Great North Road, fully ten miles away. The land Adner had eyes on was obvious, and measuring it against what was already ploughed Kel could see what he meant: with extra fields in the northern valley as well total production could be multiplied several times, which with growing trade meant New Hope could sustain a much larger population and might be able to sell food. The thought crossed her mind that when she'd been returning in February fires would have been visible, as would a bright enough signal from the road, and a party could have made inroads into the larger drifts to ease their way.

Taking a deep breath and tightening her stomach muscles she angled the spyglass down at the corral. Its gatehouse was hidden by the fin, but the wall curving to the limestone was plain; a sentry leaped into focus, and she knew that whatever magelinks Numair might install the backups of mirror signals, or at night a light signal, would also be viable.

The south-east window was the only one of no use, showing the crest of the fin falling away before rising to tower over its intersection with limestone. From the east window, though, another new vista appeared, stretching over the cliffs and lower ridges beyond to the Brown River Valley. Steadying her elbows on the sill she decided a distant smudge really was Riversedge— losing herself in thought as she considered what line-of-sight warning might mean. The angle would have to be worked out exactly and a code devised, but much was possible. She needed to report to Vanget and Wyldon. A sound made her whirl, heart thumping, but it was only Cloestra perching in the north window while Var'istaan emerged from the spiral entryway, Kuriaju and Petrin behind him. Seeing her alarm Cloestra cackled.

"Here's a pretty eyrie for you, Protector. It'll be brisk for mortals in winter, mind, but comfy for stormwings."

Kel gave a sharp smile. "Are you offering to stand winter watches?" The stormwing cackled again, and Var'istaan hissed laughter. "You'll have to ask Her Majesty, but we might."

"We can place heating blocks, Protector. And we envisaged frames with petrified webbing to place on whichever side the wind is blowing."

"That's a good thought." Even on this warm September day, with only light air at ground level, there was a stiffer breeze here and in winter Kel had no doubt there'd be a young gale most

of the time. "And you've worked marvels, all of you. Well, not Cloestra, save with Amourta, but all of the diggers. I've had this problem before, but …" She reached to touch Var'istaan's muzzle gently for a moment, then Kuriaju's face. Petrin she gave a quick buss, leaving him pink, and when Cloestra gave another cackle she shot her a rude gesture that made the stormwing laugh harder. "Thank you all. Warnings from here will save lives, and that's beyond price. Do you have a name you'd like to call this place?"

"You should call it Lady Kel's Eyrie." Cloestra's cackled at her own joke and Kel saw an odd expression cross Kuriaju's features.

"That is actually a good name, Lady Kel." He spoke softly. "But just now I think you should duck."

"Whaaaat?" Kel's instincts dropped her into a crouch as she spoke and the unmistakable form of Junior shot through the window she'd been looking out of, wings tucked as he swooped inches over her head, straight across the chamber and out the opposite window. Her shocked irritation was mollified by the admiring grin on Petrin's face and the discomfiture of Cloestra, whose instinctive movement had unbalanced her sufficiently that she had to bate to regain it, but even so Kel found herself rising to utter a peremptory bellow in Junior's direction. Rather to her surprise he circled and came in to perch on a widow sill, clawed feet grasping stone in a very catlike way. She stared into his hot, coppery eyes and would swear she saw griffin laughter.

"I suppose I should tell you that was pretty nice flying." He preened, agreeing, and she shot out a hand to grasp his beak, leaning forward. "Even so, if you ever injure anyone pulling that stunt, I will personally pull out your flight feathers and keep you grounded until you've learned some manners and common sense. Understand?"

When she let him go, pulling her hand back fast enough to avoid his snap, he bridled then ducked his head and leaned for a scratch. Amused despite herself she obliged him, and when her fingers found the hinge of his jaw he purred loudly and pressed against her.

"Little monster. But it was impressive flying. Go on with you now, and tell your ma and da what a menace you are, as if they didn't know." With a squawk that might have been laughter or indignation he turned awkwardly and dropped to soar up in a glide that took him out of sight.

The immortals were amused, and Petrin gaping. "When they reclaimed him his parents said being in mortal care had given him bad habits." She gave Cloestra an old-fashioned look. "And you should get him to help with Amourta's flying lessons. Then you can all put on flying displays on summer evenings."

She headed down, ignoring immortal laughter behind her, but at the switchback paused, staring at New Hope until the others caught her up.

"Birds with stones. Var'istaan, please make the railings of icelight—three strands, nice and sturdy so it'll hold if anyone falls against it, and high enough not to swivel over. Light and safety."

The efficiency appealed to all. Reaching the gatehouse she sent Uinse, Jacut, and Brodhelm up to see for themselves, directing them to begin familiarising everyone with the stiff climb as well as the view, and went to find Numair to discuss illuminated banisters. They began to be installed that day, and by evening sections of triple-barred light marched pleasingly across the fin. Set amid each was an oversize icelight rune Numair said had virtues of protection and safety.

With the pillars extending to moatbridge and stonebridge the tracery on the fin proved a splendid advertisement for icelights when Master Orman's first wagon train arrived in charge of a cheerful Barin and a hired half-company of Lord Imrah's port guards. This brought a tide of variety, much of it foodstuffs including a further large jam order Kel had placed when the children

collectively implored her, winter jumpers from another Protector's Maid's shop, and a host of small items Kel couldn't easily or legitimately requisition: extra spyglasses, ointments and herbs Neal wanted, others destined for Yuki's pickles with items from Yaman, specialty foods including an array of cheeses, a few cases of wine, little kegs of spices and blocks of salt, better quality candles and lamp-oil, yarn for the looms and the disassembled pieces of another, larger loom, hides and bolts of higher quality fabric than they could weave themselves that were earmarked for finery, paper and ink, carefully packed glassware the padded wrappings of which would themselves find good New Hope uses, hanks of rope and balls of string, bundles of cushions, an assortment of textbooks, military manuals, and histories, with some romances for Neal, ingots and barrels of special nails for smiths and farriers—a happy cornucopia for everyone, compounded by a mass of mail resulting from Master Orman's offer to carry freely any letters to New Hope.

There was also a quantity of superior wood, fine-grained whorls visible even on rough blocks, apparently of Carthaki origin and accompanied by a commission, from a Carthaki nobleman whose name meant nothing to Kel, for a stoneware service like Lord Imrah's. He had been visiting Legann, seen it, and wanted one; the price Master Orman had charged was so ridiculous Kel had to stop herself gaping, and Idrius was seen to punch the air with the widest grin anyone could remember.

It meant that when the wagons left, laden with crates of webbing, stoneware, a quantity of petrified mesh, rather more obsidian, a variety of icelights, and furs purchased from trappers, a delighted Barin also carried another, bigger order for varied foodstuffs and luxury goods of more kinds than you could count. The material fruits of trade washed over everyone like cool, moist air on a hot day, and to a far greater extent than Kel had anticipated were redolent of a peaceful, comfortable future—a reverse of war, and a promise of relative wealth for all. Stanar and the prisoners looked on enviously, and Kel made sure some largesse flowed their way, but also caught people up the evening after Barin's departure, reminding them gently that if peace were close enough to begin to breathe in, it wasn't yet in their grasp. Thinking of conversations with Dom Kel went further than usual into why she believed—knew—in heart and gut that at least one real battle lay ahead. Variety and treats were welcome, but weapons training and permanent readiness for the worst continued without letup or leeway.

"I believe—maybe even hope—it'll be next year, and if we win through maybe we can at last relax and turn properly to fruits of peace. But not yet, people, not for a minute. I realise it can seem crazy with good warm days continuing, and weeks going by with no sight of raiders, but we've been hit out of the blue before, and the bottom line is we will not lose anyone because we let ourselves get sloppy."

The cheering baffled her, and in a way she hadn't expected her words were borne out a few days later when she found herself summoned for the first time to what had immediately become known as Lady Kel's Eyrie. Duchess Wilina's party had been spotted turning into the valley, days sooner than they'd been expected, and there was something the lookouts thought she ought to see. Even at a considerable distance the spyglass made it clear why they thought that, and while Kel wasn't surprised to see Kitten she couldn't say she'd anticipated the dragonet's means of transport.

"It's alright." She grinned. "It's Kawit. She's an opal dragon, very well mannered—about eighteen feet—nothing to worry about. She's the one Tobe, Irnai, and I had that snowfight with last Midwinter."

Knowing the story they grinned back despite raised eyebrows, but there had been more mortals in the party than Kel expected and she looked again through the spyglass until she could make out faces. Wilina and Shinko were easy, as were Haryse and, however unexpected, her parents, but two others with that group were harder to place, though she knew she knew the faces,

until a glimpse of red hair made memory click and shock hit her like cold water. Lord Belian of Hollyrose rode beside Haryse, and Lady Marra beside her mother.


	22. Chapter 20

Witness

Chapter Twenty — Witness

16 – 30 September

There was no time to prepare the reception Kel had intended but she had soldiers, civilians, and young immortals waiting to guide and help with baggage. Once she'd formally welcomed everyone on the roadway, explaining the Honesty Gate, and the noble guests with the astonishing pair of Kawit and a chortling Kitten had passed through, she could concentrate on them and leave escort, servants, and maids slowly clearing the gate to the care of Brodhelm, Uinse, and Fanche. Saefas was in the fields with Adner and she'd made the decision not to interrupt work; if large parties would arrive early they must take pot luck. She felt she had to make an immediate public statement of shared loss to the Hollyroses, but sight of Lady Marra's strained face as she reached the top of the roadway made her think a lower key was better advised, and she saw the woman look tensely round, brittle gaze lingering on the alure and shelf beneath.

"Your Highness." She made the proper bow to satisfy protocol and stepped forward to embrace Cricket, her head on the side away from Merric's parents. "Is Lady Marra going to break?"

"Probably." Shinko's whisper was apologetic. "They caught us up at Queensgrace. I'm sorry we couldn't warn you, Keladry-chan."

"No matter, but follow my lead, please. Brisk and ordinary." She turned to an uncertainly smiling Wilina and a sober Haryse clearly reigning in exclamations, and bowed. "Your Grace, my Lord. You must be anxious to meet your granddaughter. Perhaps you'll allow Irnai to escort you and the Princess. Neal and Yuki are waiting to receive you."

Yuki hadn't been happy about not being there to greet her mother-in-law but with Cricket's co-operation it meant the two were bustled off, and flicking her gaze across her parents' with the briefest smile Kel bowed and braced herself to meet Lord Belian's and Lady Marra's eyes.

"My Lord and Lady. This must be very painful for you, but I'm glad you've come. Merric was happy here, and wanted you to see it. If you'll excuse me while I deal with a few courtesies I will be at your disposal."

To her surprise Lord Belian bowed back and Lady Marra curtsied, before he nodded tightly, hand on her arm. "Of course, Lady Keladry."

"Thank you." Wondering at their attitudes Kel took a step back, tilting her head. "Hello, Kawit. It's good to see you."

And you, Protector. I hope you do not mind my coming.

"Not in the least. And hello to you too, Skysong. Your Ma and Da are up valley at Spidren Wood but I sent Nari so they'll be back soon."

Good. I have much to show them. And tell them.

A thought crossed Kel's mind. "You haven't set fire to another rug?"

Certainly not. Kitten's mindvoice was indignant, Kawit's amused.

All is well, Protector. I was as restless as Skysong, and we are both interested to meet Amourta. New-hatched stormwings are uncommon.

"Of course. Is there anything you need? Then perhaps I may ask you to be guided by young Amiir'aan a while. He can show you around and find you space in Immortals' Row."

Indeed. Thank you for your care, Protector.

Then she could embrace her parents. "Are you both alright? I'm so sorry about Conal, but we have to wait, don't we? Are you in on this?"

"We're surviving, sweeting, however sadly, and we're in unless you'd rather we weren't." Her mother's whisper was as apologetic as Cricket's had been and Kel gave her a squeeze.

"Do we go to Merric's grave? The shrines? Or somewhere private?"

Her father's voice was equally quiet. "The shrines first, if you can clear a little space. Marra's a godly woman holding hard to faith."

"Shrines it is." She eased back but kept her voice low. "I'm afraid I've had to move you from the room I'd intended. Tobe will show you where you'll be." Which was one of the extra guest rooms in the cave. "Then come to the terrace." She turned back to the tense Hollyroses.

"My Lord and Lady. Let me show you to your rooms to freshen up, and we can talk." Gently but unarguably she escorted them to a guest room in headquarters where their surprisingly little baggage and a maid Kel recognised as one of Cricket's were waiting. While they were closeted she gave swift instructions but there was barely time for people to obey before they were back, Lord Belian determined to speak.

"Lady Keladry, we must apologise for arriving without warning or invitation." She murmured negation but he shook his head. "No, we know it is unfair but … it has been hard. Your letters were so courteous, and Sir Nealan's, and the records you sent so clear about what happened. But when we heard of Captain Rogal's execution … and your letter about these icelights, asking what we wished to do …"

Lady Marra's voice was breathy. "It was so unexpected, so kind." Her eyes were bright with tears. "Merric was our firstborn and we knew Her Grace and Her Highness were coming with a large party. Forgive us. We had to see you."

"I understand." And if Kel couldn't know their pain she could imagine it intimately. "Please, there's nothing to forgive. Come, let's go to the shrines. I prefer to speak of the gods openly, in their hearing."

Kel hadn't known she was going to say that but it was true, at least in this, and she led them to the terrace steps, seeing chairs had been hastily brought and Tobe—bless him—was setting out her Yamani tea service, with Bel'iira standing by to heat water. Her parents were coming back up from the cave, and in moments all were seated before the shrines of the Black God and Lord Mithros, outside the line of the trough carrying the cistern overflow. Cloestra and Amourta were in their usual place, talking with Kawit and Kitten, but the rest of the terrace was clear, and off-duty soldiers would make sure it stayed that way. She busied herself with tea, drawing in the calm of the ceremony, as if it were normal for the water to be boiled by a basilisk, and projecting it again as she'd been taught; she saw approval on her parents' faces, and felt tension leech from the Hollyroses. Her father had been right: open air was better than any room

could have been. She thanked Bel'iira, who bowed and withdrew, and with her own cup comforting her hand in its warmth and requirement that she not tremble met anxious gazes calmly.

"Lord Belian, Lady Marra, where would you have me begin?"

Lady Marra swallowed hard. "Lady Keladry, our son was very happy, very relieved, that you wanted him here. He blamed himself harshly for a mistake he said he made at Haven. Your

… forgiveness, he called it, meant a lot to him. Could you begin with that? I was never sure what the mistake was, and he was wounded so badly himself …"

Kel thought the request had taken all Lady Marra's strength to make, but she could only offer truth; nothing else would do here.

"As you will, my Lady. Merric and I spoke of that several times. I cannot tell you he didn't make a mistake, failing to heed the sparrows' warning, but it made no real difference—the force he and his men faced that day was beyond them, and the real mistakes were mine and my Lord of Cavall's."

The tea gave her calmness to start the tale evenly without summoning her Yamani mask, and she spoke barely but clearly of her belief about Merric's reasons for coming to Rathhausak, her trust in him and reasons for wanting him at New Hope, his strength and cheer and many contributions. That brought her to icelights, visible around the shrines in the simple arrangement she'd eventually decided on; her letter had explained the Guild contract but while she deduced from their expressions that her parents had had some of the story from Lady Marra much of it was new to them and she could see them thinking as they listened. Then there was nothing for it but to turn to the day of Scything Wheat, except that everyone here knew that tale already and what mattered was what had come after, which meant returning to what had happened to her the year before. And if the Hollyroses' sorrow was one thing her parents' was another, and still riding the calmness of her own voice she apologised to them for what she would have to say next. At least none of it would come as a surprise. The effect on Lord Belian and Lady Marra could not be helped but Kel found it harder and harder to retain her calm as she skimmed rape but reported the relevant part of the Black Gods' words and turned to her decisions following her Enquiry. She wasn't sure how she made it through her unanswered and answered prayers, and the dream Lord Gainel had sent. With its enactment in reality she knew her face was wet though her voice carried on as she rose to kneel before them.

"I believed then and believe now that my choice was one I had to make, and the Black God has by his grace taken the burden of my guilt, but I am so sorry I had to extend forgiveness to Captain Rogal without your knowledge or consent. I can say only Merric too forgave him, as he forgave me, and helped guide his spirit to the Black God's arms. It must sound absurd but I swear it is true."

She'd meant to wait but her hand traced the god's circle on her chest and the wind soughed into the silence that was always behind it. Lady Marra's face was still, tears flowing freely in that brimming overflow she knew, and silence held while Lord Belian held his wife tightly and she him, until she registered that Kel was yet kneeling and cried out, pulling her husband up with her.

"No, no, you mustn't kneel to us. It is we who should kneel to you."

Lady Marra's grip was fierce and she was surprisingly strong, all but hauling Kel up; against all protocol Kel obeyed instinct and hugged her, feeling Lady Marra's body abruptly relax and the weight of her head on her shoulder. Kel was long past embarrassment; looking over the woman in her arms she saw Cloestra and Amourta very discreetly drawing in the emotions that must be beating on them as fiercely as southern sun, both dragons observing with interest, and

found she didn't care in the least. After an age Lord Belian awkwardly reclaimed his wife, as braced as Kel to support her if she slumped, but she stood tall, eyes speaking as her husband put it into words.

"Marra is right, my Lady—gods know you owe us no apology and we owe you much. More than we can say. But we must thank the god too."

"Yes." Lady Marra's voice was hoarse. "We must do that now."

Kel looked at her parents, damp-eyed themselves. "Did Anders tell you what happened at Conal's funeral?"

"Oh yes. And Tobe has spoken to us also" Her Papa's voice was sad and strong. "We'll give thanks together."

They knelt side by side, silent save for one intense prayer from Lady Marra, and though there was no more divine noise there was a palpable calmness that told Kel their devotion was accepted, and her own prayers looped as so often now to beg of Father Universe and Mother Flame that the Black God know the peace he bestowed. After a while she felt everyone content, the burn of grief as salved as might be, and stood. Lady Marra's face was slack, and gesturing her parents to wait Kel escorted the Hollyroses to their rooms, promising that in the morning she'd take them to see Merric's grave at Haven. Lord Belian's grip on her arm grew fierce for a second, and his mouth worked.

"Bless you, my Lady."

The door closed behind them and she turned, ready to sag herself but conscious of the need to return to her parents, and found Tobe waiting silently at the head of the stairs to slip a hand into hers, squeezing every bit as fiercely as Lord Belian; her heart eased and strength came back to her legs.

"Thank you, Tobe. You've been a marvel today. How ever did you find time to tell Papa and Mama about Conal's apology as well as getting the tea things?"

"I only told them we knew Sir Conal was safe with the Black God. I didn't know if they knew all Sir Anders told you. Irnai fetched the tea things—she knew where they were and I didn't think you'd mind."

She reached her free hand to ruffle his hair as they reached the open air. "Not in the least, Tobe. Quick thinking. Anders will have told them all he told me but we'll make sure."

Dusk was drawing in but the air was still balmy, and she saw Neal and Yuki sitting with their guests in the space Yuki had created outside the separate door to their rooms; Ryokel was in her grandmother's arms and Kel wasn't sure if the lump Wilina's expression brought to her throat was a bubble of laughter or tears, though Haryse's long-suffering look definitely brought laughter and gods knew it was welcome. She and Tobe waved but didn't stop. Her parents had fresh cups of tea but before she could pour herself one her father put his down and rose to embrace her, eyes wondering.

"That was well done, my dear. A palpable grace."

"It was the god's, Papa."

"Not entirely, I think. Your mother agrees. But tell us what you know of poor Conal."

They'd had the tale from Anders and all she and Tobe could add was the chimed

acceptance of his prayer that Conal know his apology accepted, and the dream of his peaceful face she and Tobe had had that night. Her parents nodded, drying eyes, and her Mama hugged Tobe before settling back, face hollowed but calm.

"Poor Conal. Will you go to Mindelan, sweeting? Anders and Inness would welcome this news first-hand."

"Yes, I mean to go at Midwinter, then by sea to Port Caynn."

"November, then. We're going on from here but have to be in Corus for Midwinter, so I expect we'll wait on you there. You'll come, Tobe?"

Her son looked at her. "If I may, Ma?"

"Of course you may. Do you think Irnai wants to travel again?"

"I dunno." He frowned. "She liked the city"

"I'll ask her. Oh, look up there." It had darkened enough for the glowing railings on the steps to her Eyrie to become visible. "We should go up there before the light fades completely." Kel hauled both parents to their feet and set off, extending her hand to Tobe. "It's all new. I haven't seen the lights on the roadway and bridges by night yet myself. And after we've gone over the fin we get to go under it and see Geraint's marvel of a bridge." She glanced towards the infirmary. "If you look right you'll also see Her Grace of Queenscove looking as possessive of Ryokel as a cat that's nabbed the only cushion. Did you look like that when you first held Lachran, Mama?"

Laughing, Ilane took her arm. "Probably, sweeting. Your Papa did."

Her father's indignation didn't stop Kel from noticing the relief and pleasure on people's faces as they made way. Word about the Hollyroses had evidently gone round. She'd have to escort Lord Belian and Lady Marra to dinner, but there was time to show her parents the wonders basilisks and ogres with mortal sweat and magic had wrought.

The fierce emotions of the afternoon cleared much of the tension the Hollyroses brought, if not the sorrow. Kel had to endure one more intense episode when she took them to Haven, but they liked the simple stone—Merric of Hollyrose / 442 – 462 HE / A Knight of Tortall and Defender of New Hope—and the knoll. Grass had grown over bare earth, and in the late summer warmth butterflies fluttered among flowers and grasshoppers could be heard; a twining weed with tiny yellow flowers had draped itself around the burned infirmary timbers marking the mass grave, including men Merric had commanded that day, and Lady Marra knelt there for a long while as well as walking slowly down the line of headstones. She seemed to know who was there, and asked to be shown Rogal's unmarked grave, in a far corner. Both knelt there too, Lady Marra longer than her husband, who after walking round and stopping by Merric's grave again hesitantly approached Kel.

"Lady Keladry. Thank you for bringing us. Haven was always so busy in Merric's letters, then sombre, I hadn't imagined it so peaceful."

"It has the Black God's blessing." She spoke simply. "He welcomes to his mercy all buried here and his grace is as infinite as his sadness."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

They stood in silence, breeze and sunshine dispelling awkwardness, until Lady Marra rose, and summoned her husband. After a moment they came to Kel together. "We would like

Merric to stay here, please. It is a blessed place, as Belian says, and I could not bear to move him."

"It is our honour, my Lady."

"No, ours. And please, Marra—it is wrong for us to accept your deference."

Belian concurred and if doubtful of their reasoning Kel was always happy to win through protocol to friendship, as well as vastly relieved the coffin would not have to be dug up. Sadly, but with an inner calm neither had had before, they made farewells, Lady Marra promising Merric she would return as she could. Kel had anticipated that and told them of a woman among the refugees with a good hand who might provide them with a drawing to keep the place before their eyes, but as she walked slowly with them down the roadway they surprised her considerably.

"You said in your letter you couldn't guess how much money might be due Merric from these icelights, but I'd think it will be substantial—they're remarkable things." Hollyrose was a wealthy fief and Belian by all accounts a shrewd trader. "We shall be wanting some ourselves for courtyard and village, and if the city authorities in Corus don't want one for every street I'll be astonished. Word will spread."

Kel nodded. "I'm hoping so. If New Hope does become a fief, as seems likely, there'll be a great deal to be done."

"Indeed." Marra looked at her husband and went on slowly. "We'd like Merric's part of that money to go towards it, Keladry—to help with education and healers for the refugees, and those Scanrans who helped you and had to leave everything. Merric was very struck by them when he found out what happened while he was helping the kidnapped Tortallans back. He wrote us a long letter after he talked to the seer-child Irnai and he wouldn't want us to take money away from you here."

"You're sure? He loved Hollyrose too—he often spoke of it."

"We're sure." Belian gestured around the valley. "He admired you greatly and what you'd done here, and I see why. We have established a fund in his name to help anyone from Hollyrose accepted for knight training whose family cannot afford it. And we'll be glad to know his name is honoured here." He hesitated. "Forgive me, but given your age I was disapproving of your elevation to His Majesty's Council. But seeing New Hope I realise Merric knew better. He wrote several times that you were building the future here, and he was right."

Kel didn't know what to say but the topic recurred with Haryse who buttonholed her at lunch to request a proper tour, explaining cheerfully that he'd be more interested in Ryokel when she could talk and while his cousin was so broody he'd rather be doing. Kel had things awaiting her attention but he was a fellow Councillor and as she'd suspected partly wanted to assure her he had no truck with Runnerspring's complaint.

"The records you sent were clear, Keladry. You snipped protocol a bit with fair reason and it made no odds. Carolan'll vent and get nowhere." He shook his head. "He didn't use to be this foolish, and I can't help wondering why he had a man loaned to Tirrsmont in the first place. But no matter. What's far more important is this place. The King's mentioned it often since the Chamber showed it him. I felt it was time I saw it myself, so Wilina coming for this nameday was an opportunity."

"It's no problem, Terres. And being here for the ceremonies you'll see more than you might have—the spidrens'll come, and maybe the griffins and Whitelist—the herdmaster. The Stone Tree Nation's around a lot because of Amourta, but Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh will be here." She paused by a crenel, noting how much harvesting remained and checking the

alertness of guards in view; Haryse saw what she was doing with a grunt of approval. "I said to Macayhill and others at Midwinter that you had to see Quenuresh to understand what living with her means, and it's the same with ogres and stormwings. Frankly I wish the entire Council could come—it'd save me ever so many explanations."

He laughed. "I bet. Well, I'm a start, and I take the point. This isn't just amazement—it's a way the future could be. But I'll also say I'm delighted by your defences. Have you read Orchan by any chance?"

Kel grinned and their conversation ranged pleasantly among military historians while she took him to the corral. A demonstration of Geraint's bridge had him hopping enthusiasm and requesting the design, which led to the need for a basilisk, the Guild, and without Kel intending it her hopes for attracting the kind of people New Hope didn't have. He was, she realised, good at getting people to talk and approved what he was hearing. The corral and its defences, including the drawbridge, restored them to military history, and a crisp interrogation of Dom and the new Second Company men he was drilling left him thoughtful and when they were returning through the tunnel complimentary.

"You handle people well, Keladry. Cavall was right. Military service is a better answer than mines and you're making loyalists of those men. I can see all your people have it. Uncle Emry would approve."

Fortunately the bridge guards' reading hadn't changed and she was able to point out the battered copy of his uncle's book. The soldiers were struck to meet a kinsman of the old general, whose rudeness about anything he considered foolish appealed as Kel had thought it might, and there was a lively discussion that left Haryse laughingly impressed, as he remarked when they were again on their way.

"Surprised to find such literate soldiers. Last real command I held, during the Immortals' War, half my lads could barely sign their names."

"Everyone here can read and write, Terres. If they can't when they arrive we teach them. Tortallan and Common, at least, and many have Scanran." She kept her voice even. "Yamani's another matter but Yuki lives in hope. She has more luck with the children, though."

He laughed. "You're pulling my leg."

"Not at all. Her line is anyone who's heard Lord Sakuyo laugh should be able to thank him in Yamani and she's explained what their tokens as Sakuyo's Blessed will mean if they ever visit the Islands—which quite a few have every intention of doing. I must get Shinko to send His Imperial Majesty warning, so he realises that in a few years he really is going to have Tortallan saints pitching up with expectant looks."

That vision of the future carried them to her Eyrie where she was able to leave him peering happily in all directions though a spyglass and deal with some of her other guests as well as the voluminous contents of the mailsack their escort had delivered.

One early arrival attracted others and Duke Baird and Prince Roald came in search of their wives. Kel had hoped Roald might bring Owen, but he'd had the chance to serve for a month as second

at an outpost and felt the opportunity too good to pass up. With all the escorts there were so many extra soldiers at loose ends that after polite consultations with officers Kel drafted them all as field guards and set most of Mikal's men to helping finish the harvest. Besides greater speed and safety it brought visiting soldiers into contact with ogres, terracing farmers or miners helping out loading wagons, and New Hope hummed with tangible results. The icelights enabled work to continue later, with last wagons rumbling up the roadway well into dusk, and the hard-earned hunger everyone brought to dinner made for meals that were silent while people shovelled and then cheerfully relaxed. Kel didn't let anyone stint on training, and visiting soldiers were sufficiently startled by the variety of weapons and general skill of both soldiers and civilians that they bucked up themselves. There were hard -fought competitions and Kel was amused to see officers taking notes on training routines every bit as intently as Vanget and the commanders had. She could see Haryse was again approving but was better pleased by the pride of her own people as a fair number of them managed to hold their own against regulars.

If Haryse was an ally Duchess Wilina was more of a puzzle. She was never less than polite but seemed disapproving in some way, and was one of the few who didn't express astonishment at New Hope's reality; Kel suspected resentment that Yuki and Ryokel were here, rather than under a mother-in-law's grandmaternal eye, with fear compounding continuing mourning for her elder sons. There was nothing to object to but Kel was left uneasy by the woman's brooding looks and happy to leave her to her kin as far as possible. Duke Baird's arrival seemed to improve her mood, and Kel was aware, not for the first time, of how much he continued to give Tortall's soldiers as well as commoners affected by war; he couldn't have been at Queenscove for more than a month or two in as many years.

Time with her parents and Cricket was a delight, despite lingering grief for Conal, and Yuki not being one to miss any opportunity there was a memorable Yamani evening for all and, after adjourning to the terrace, Cloestra, Amourta, St'aara, Var'istaan, and Amiir'aan as well. The liquid cadences of the language attracted children serious about learning it and put Neal and Roald, whose accents remained at best peculiar, on their mettle.

Kitten was spending most of her time with Daine and Numair, and the rest with young immortals, but Kawit was less predictable. She'd wandered down valley to spend a day talking to Quenuresh and up for another visiting the centaurs, but might also be found with Cloestra and Amourta, and once shock had worn off and she'd proven herself unfailingly courteous when approached, a growing number of refugees talked to her. The Scanrans, Rathhausakers and prisoners alike, were fascinated, and seeing Stanar shaking his head in bemusement one evening as he watched the opal dragon telling assembled mortal and immortal children some tale, Kel asked him what he was thinking.

"She is a dragon." He laughed softly at her puzzlement. "Even with the return of other immortals and all the world disturbed since, dragons are … something else. Do you not know our tales? Dragons play an important role but not as storytellers." He dropped into Scanran. "Eald uhtsceatha, nihtes fleogeth fyre befangen. That we expect—not this!"

Kel fumbled to work it out. "An old dark … no, harmer out of the dark, threatening fire? Is that poetry?"

"Yes. One of our sagas. The old scathers who come at night with ribbons of fire. If a dragon ate the children we would be unsurprised. To see one teaching them … well, this is a place of marvels, but this is the greatest yet." He shook his head again. "Even if she is wyrm, not draca, we will have such tales to tell if we ever go home. No-one will believe a word we say."

"Wyrm not draca?"

"Yes—she has no wings, so she is wyrm."

"Huh. Kawit's an opal dragon, but can cast fire. The flying kind, like Kitten and her grandsire, certainly can, but from their paws, magically, not their mouths. I've seen it on a very small scale, but you should ask Daine—she saw Kit's mother fight, and I think Lord Diamondflame too, during the Immortals War."

He gave her a sideways look. "You saw dragonfire?"

"Melting snow so Kitten could get through. Kit's just learning." She told the story of Duke Gareth's old and new rugs, to his laughter and amazement, and by the time she was done she had as many adult Scanrans clustered around her as Kawit had children. "They're astonishing beings, I know, but really not, what was it? eald uhtsceatha, unless you give them good reason. Ask Irnai —she met Diamondflame. And from what I understand they keep themselves to themselves in the Dragonlands. We only have contact because Daine is Kitten's guardian, and Kitten met—well, found—Kawit when she was visiting Carthak."

From the lively discussion in Scanran that broke out Kel gathered that Maggur was three times a fool to have gone to war with a nation that had dragon allies, but was pleased next evening to see Stanar and other Scanrans, including Zerhalm, cautiously led to Kawit and Kitten by Irnai to talk to dragons themselves. What they'd do if Diamondflame ever came to New Hope she couldn't imagine, but for now another set of misconceptions was being corrected.

Even more satisfactorily the harvest and planting of winter crops was completed on Mabon eve, and by the time Wyldon arrived with Alanna, Spiir'aan, and yet another combined escort in late afternoon the fields were largely clear and the atmosphere beginning to ramp up for festivities. The children had put up ropes and ribbons, and persuaded Numair icelight beads were a necessity, so with dusk lines of tiny glows appeared, outlining and connecting buildings. Spiir'aan was pleased to be back and keen to talk to the other basilisks, but Alanna's mood was strange, a mixture of relief and brooding concern, and Kel wondered what news she might have had of Aly. With so many high-ranking guests assembled high table was crowded and cheerful, but with feasting due dinner was simple; afterwards many people chose to sit in the balmy dark, and when Kel took Wyldon up to the Eyrie the glitter of New Hope below them and illuminated bridges made a breathtaking sight. Alanna had said she'd have a look when her legs were less weary, but Wyldon welcomed the offer and took opportunity to bring her up to date, relaying Vanget's concerns about the potentially late winter and troop movement. After initial exclamations at the view and her assurance that in daylight Riversedge was visible he seemed abstracted as he stared out of one window after another, and Kel asked if anything were wrong.

"No, not really, Keladry. I'm just tired." Mindful of the sentries he dropped his voice. "And feeling low, I suppose you'd say. Pirate's Swoop hasn't been easy company—she has something on her mind but won't say what—and I've been preoccupied myself. News from Corus, mostly. With Gallan co -operation they have stopped those food shipments, and from records seized it's clear we've been feeding Scanra for at least a year. Genlith's exclaiming horror and saying he had no idea, but if the King can't prove otherwise he's not inclined to believe him, and neither am I. At best it's greed, stupidity, and carelessness, and gods know how many lives it's cost." He glanced at her, eyes troubled. "And there'll be Torhelm to deal with once he can speak, and in all probability a trial. It's like the bad days of Duke Roger and Eldorne's treason."

She understood. "I'm sorry. These are people you've known all your life and don't like to think ill of. It must be hard. It's easier for me because I don't know them well and have little reason to respect them."

"I don't think anything's easier for you, Keladry. Differently hard, perhaps. But it's not the individuals, wretched as that is. Or even the treason, if that's what it is. Having Spiir'aan around has been an education that's left me wondering why we've done so little to forge real bonds with

immortals in the last decade. Then I look at New Hope and what you've managed in a year, and I feel very old."

"Ah." Kel rested a hand on his arm. "Oddly, Wyldon, I share that feeling. But I can't help with the other—I've wondered myself why no -one ever asked Tkaa to petrify anything or talked to ogres properly. Dunlath should have been a model. But we're putting it right, and if you feel low talk to children—besides making for clarity about what matters I find them reassuring. If we survive whatever's coming, the future will have some good people in it."

His look was keen. "You sound as if you don't think you'll see it."

She shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I doubt even the gods know, but since Conal's death I've been having days when it doesn't seem right I'm alive. It's not as bad as after the tauros attack but it's one reason I feel old. How many birthdays should a deathday count as, do you suppose?"

He surprised her. "Yours or Rogal's?"

"Huh. I meant mine, but his added some years too. With the Black God's and Lord Gainel's grace I don't dream of him, though. Perhaps it should haunt me, but he's at peace and Merric will bear no witness against me for that. But the tauros … that memory is always there. Distant since the Goddess's healing, but there." She didn't think the conversation was doing any good, and it was heading for things she didn't discuss with anyone. "Mind you, another reason I feel old is I have to play priest tomorrow. You realise I thought of sending you Spiir'aan as repayment for being so unhelpful with Holloran before Lughnasad?"

His indignation and rueful laugh were an improvement, and after they'd descended she managed to steer him to a group of children listening to Kawit before seeking out her parents. Then she made her evening round, but melancholy pulled at her and once all was quiet she went to the shrines to pray to the Goddess for strength and Lord Sakuyo for laughter. Whether it was his influence she wasn't sure but she felt better afterwards, and her dreams were comfortingly of blossom under blue skies, and very indecently of Dom.

The ceremonies weren't until sunset, and despite sounds that told her Quenuresh and her kin had arrived, and later that stormwings were gathering, Kel spent her day attacking the backlog of paperwork so many guests had occasioned. With apologies to Heliana for her holiday she dictated a variety of letters Shinko's escort could deliver. Besides the Protector's Maids and Lalasa's wedding there was business arising from Guild trade but at last all was done and she went to change. Although there'd been namedays for babies born the previous winter, held as usual among commoners soon after their births, those parents had asked if their children might be re-presented to the gods at this festival; Yuki and Ryokel therefore weren't the only ones involved but Kel's beautiful green kimonos seemed right for the occasion. Heliana came to help her dress, and if Yuki and Cricket would tell her she ought to be wearing paint Kel thought she looked as fine as she ever had. Her face had changed in the last year: in the mirror it seemed thinner and, though the word surprised her as it occurred, wiser; but then kimonos could make anyone look good. Heliana seemed to agree, humming appreciation as she offered a compliment, and Kel swept out feeling cheerful.

The main level was packed and the sense of repetition from the dedication a year ago was strong, though the beads strung all around the buildings were distractingly pretty. The immortals on the terrace were more numerous, and enlarged by Kawit's presence, and besides noting Kitten perched atop the opal dragon Kel saw with pleasure that all three griffins were there as well as Whitelist with two of his mates, and what looked like all the spidrens; a clean Stone Tree Nation perched on roofs everywhere. On the nearest part of the east shelf Peachblossom had Alder as well as Hoshi beside him, sparrows in his mane and Jump at his feet, with other dogs and the marmalade cat. Four companies were drawn up, making a brave display though the

incompleteness of New Hope Second was painfully obvious; and if the courtiers were missing and some faces different, the guests gathered opposite the immortals were much as they had been. Yuki and Neal, holding Ryokel, were front and centre, with Baird, Wilina, and Terres to one side and Roald, Shinko, and Alanna to the other; Wyldon stood behind with her parents and Tobe, the Hollyroses, Daine and Numair. As Kel followed the path to the terrace steps the crowd fell silent and the captains brought soldiers and knights to attention; everyone seemed to stand straighter and Kel's heart swirled with the complexities of their isolating respect, pride in all they'd achieved, and surprise at her calmness. A year ago her stomach had been churning but today she felt purposeful, sufficiently relaxed to notice how happy Tobe looked and how handsome Dom was. His armour gleamed and the outline of his brace beneath his trousers spoke of heroism and endurance, not weakness. The mood didn't stop her observing Sir Voelden standing with Brodhelm's Eighth, where a year ago Merric had stood, but he was a knight and had proven a good patrol leader, so she couldn't begrudge him the place though grief for Merric twined into her confusions and calmness.

One advantage of playing the priest as well as being commander was that she could within reason suit herself about protocol, and after making a curtsey to Roald and Shinko that had them suppressing smiles she made more—one each to the mortal and immortal groups as a whole, and then, deeply, to New Hope's population. Surprise held them rigid and she didn't give them a chance to return the courtesy before speaking.

"Today we celebrate new lives. Tessa Farmer, Jorvik Stockman, Fanche Stonecutter, and Lady Ryokel of Queenscove join us in search of a better future, and it is right we present them to the gods as well as ourselves assembled; but there is more. Last Mabon we dedicated these shrines, and received the gods' blessings with unhoped for gifts from Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady. The ease of our childbeds, foison on our tables—and its taste!—are benison beyond reckoning, and it is right we give heartfelt thanks to the High Ones." That they agreed with, though Kel wasn't surprised to see Wilina frown, as she had at the news Ryokel wasn't the only baby being presented. "And still there is more. My curtsies—and you won't see me make those often, I warn you—acknowledged Their Highnesses and our many noble guests as is proper, but I also formally acknowledge the immortals who dwell among us in trust, and thank them for all they have done, as I acknowledge and thank you all. New Hope has in a year become the most self-supporting refugee camp in Tortallan history, and if we have enjoyed the gods' blessings it is you who have made that a reality."

She curtsied to them again, and once more gave them no chance to start the insistent reflection of credit to which they were given.

"Who brings a child here that we and the gods may know our own?"

The commoner parents, with godsparents, were in a group by the steps, and the first couple came proudly forward, trailed by their chosen. All were young—the Farmers were former Tirrsmonters from the first group, the Stockmans from Anak's Eyrie, and the Stonecutters from Goatstrack, explaining their feelings about honouring Fanche—and all the babes firstborn; as Kel received each she spoke of their parents' histories and new identities before settling to more usual ceremonies. The infants were formally named, and the godsparents swore oaths of care; no chimes sounded and for the first time Kel saw worried looks but serenely carried on, and when she held up Tessa Farmer before each shrine in turn, naming her as a child of New Hope and asking the gods' blessing on her life and death—may it be long distant and peaceful—chimes sounded. Returning Tessa to her beaming mother and father Kel could see Wilina's face was a picture, and Terres no less taken aback, though what her parents or Wyldon might be thinking she couldn't tell. Babies Jorvik and Fanche were equally received and witnessed, and before turning to Yuki and Neal Kel spoke briefly to the crowd again.

"I can't tell you what this means to me. Sir Nealan is my oldest Tortallan friend, Lady Yukimi my oldest Yamani friend, and to name their firstborn, here in New Hope, is beyond my dreams. And in so far as she is named for me, and is of New Hope as well as Queenscove, I pray I can be worthy of her and her parents."

There was no protocol for a priest conducting a naming ceremony and standing as godsmother so Kel went on making it up, witnessing Roald's and Alanna's oaths with a growing sense of unreality before making her own and ignoring the usual wording because to witness herself was absurd. She could see Wilina frowning at the irregularity of it all, but by the time the chimes sounded for a gurgling and arm-waving Ryokel the Duchess's hand was entwined with her husband's, face transfigured. Yuki made a point of handing Ryokel to her as she returned to the group, and Kel saw in Shinko's eyes an altogether Yamani merriment about mothers-in-law and the happy fortunes of brides in managing them when the gods lent a hand. Returning to the centre Kel faced the crowd again and raised her arms.

"What thanks can we give the gods save mortal words? Their needs and purposes are beyond us, but I stand here in the place of a proper priest because they have made it so. I tell you frankly I believe Lord Sakuyo, whose laughter most of us heard, had more influence in that than Lord Mithros, but trickster as he may be he stands among the High Ones and I cannot argue." She let them think about it for a moment, not least to give Tobe time he needed. "A year ago Mabon saw other witness too—the purses His Highness presented on His Majesty's behalf to Fanche and Saefas, to Zerhalm, and to Tobeis, who that day became of Mindelan. And in the year between I have died and been returned to myself and to him, for which grace I owe the gods thanks every moment. Tobe feels the same, and knowing utterly how useless it is to offer the gods riches we have made our own offerings to accompany grains and fruits of our foison and work."

Tobe was at her side with the little bag and the arrow, and as he displayed them she told everyone what they were—the arrow fletched with Amourta's down for Lord Weiryn and two more of those strange, curly steel feathers twisted with Numair's help into a spiral for the Green Lady; small locks of Merrick's and Rogal's hair woven together for Lord Mithros; Tobe's carving of Yuki holding Ryokel, petrified by St'aara into flecked jade for the Goddess; a scroll with her haiku about his laughter as grace and hot needles for Lord Sakuyo, in the best calligraphy she could manage; a hawk's retrix, supplied by Daine and petrified by Var'istaan into blindingly white obsidian, for Shakith; her own poor but heartfelt drawing of blossoming orchards in a Yamani springtime for Lord Gainel, and though she wasn't prepared to say much she did explain that blossom softened her dreams; and for the Black God, another ihai carved with her name, this time in rockice.

"You can see that in the dark my name stands out, and if it seems strange to you to give the Black God a glowing gift it seems right to me for my name to be among his darkness, as my every breath is borrowed of his grace, and right gladly to offer him light in his sadness. And with these gifts come the fruits of your sweat and toil, with our sorrow for our dead and rejoicing in our own lives, and the lives that join us."

Two bearers of the little bowls of grains and jugs of wine had cost Kel thought. Irnai for Shakith was easy, as were Shinko for Sakuyo, Wyldon for Mithros, Numair and Daine (despite her protests) for Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, and Alanna for the Goddess, but it had taken careful discussion of the symbolism she hoped it might embody to secure St'aara's agreement for Amiir'aan to participate for Lord Gainel, and a much longer, harder conversation to persuade Sir Voelden to make the offering to the Black God. In the end she thought it had been shame at her care for Rogal's spirit that persuaded him, not her attempt to explain she was asking him to surrender to the Black God whatever still lay between them; but however he reasoned he eventually agreed, and as he came forward, collecting the bag of grain from a tray Adner held, she felt something move in the crowd, a gust of understanding.

Mindful of the timeway and its mysteries Kel hadn't let herself expect, but wasn't surprised when each offering was accepted with chimes and voices—clashing battlecry, belling hounds, distant hawks, and soughing wind. Lord Sakuyo laughed promptly, not repeating a joke but having another, and Kel's eyes met Shinko's and Yuki's in complete understanding that several hundred more people had just become Sakuyo's Blessed and second kamunushi Lord Kiyomori would be less than amused to find himself heading back to New Hope. Lord Gainel left Quenuresh alone this time, but Kel—and from their expressions Daine and Numair as well as the spidren and Alanna—felt a tug of power before the air all but glowed with the scent of blossom, just as in Kel's dreams. It lingered as Kel and Tobe with Daine and Numair placed the offerings on the central double shrine, and despite Daine's warning that as minor gods her ma and da did not have disembodied voices in the mortal realms Kel by this stage half-expected something. What she got was a blazing ball of silver before the shrine that drove all back and cleared to reveal a large, dazzlingly pelted badger. Kel curtsied, and a crisp voice sounded in her mind; despite its clarity she somehow knew it was for her, Tobe, Daine, and Numair alone, though she suspected the dragons and some other immortals might also be able to hear.

Ha hmm. Protector. Weiryn and Sarra accept your offerings and ask me to collect them so don't worry when they disappear. Weiryn suggested I say as much to everyone but a god of the People giving a speech to two-leggers is ridiculous and I told him so. Still, I need a word with his kit so just carry on with whatever it is you're doing. If you will.

Speechless, Kel heard Sakuyo's laughter again at how entirely taken aback everyone was, and watched as it—he—ambled over to Daine, who crouched to bury hands in the thick pelt, listening. Finding herself amused at the indignation in the Badger's mindvoice at the notion of public speaking Kel turned, seeing smiles on Alanna's face and, oddly, Wyldon's, and the shock on everyone else's; half were kneeling, half didn't know what to do, and the stormwings' looked drunk on whatever blasts of emotions all this divinity was generating.

"Lord Badger tells me Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady accept our offerings and he will take them to the Divine Realms." She glanced sideways. "He and the Godborn are old friends, as you see, so don't mind them while they catch up." She heard immortals' laughter and smiled.

"And however strangely, our formal celebrations are complete, so you should begin your own."

No-one mortal seemed much inclined to move, preferring to gape, but a lusty squall from Jorvik Stockman, convinced it was dinnertime, generated activity. Immortals began to stir: Kitten bounced from Kawit's back to scamper to the Badger and Daine, and the adult griffins took off though Junior stayed, looking about with bright eyes before trotting over to Shinko and booting her knee. Kel shook her head, asked Tobe to get dinner going, and warned Shinko to watch her fingers before walking to the group round the Badger herself.

"Um … I'm sorry to interrupt Daine, but food's going to be served. Can I get you or our guest anything?"

Daine looked up, eyes amused but smoky. "I doubt it, Kel. I think we're about done." The Badger also looked up. Your offer is kind, Protector, but needless. I will leave shortly.

"Alright. Thank you for coming, my Lord." He snorted, amused at the title, and she hesitated but asked anyway. "Can you tell me, if you will, whose power opened the way for Lord Gainel?"

Sakuyo. He sounded interested. It was unexpected but you must ask him. I don't understand tricksters. The People have more sense.

"Thank you." Her eyes met Numair's, but he just grinned, shrugging, and she considered

Lord Sakuyo's shrine ironically before giving the slight bow her kimonos permitted and setting about social duties—or trying to, for the evening became a long blur of strange conversations with women. Daine was first, joining the high table late with apologies, and telling Kel quietly when she had a chance that her parents were pleased with the offerings and the Badger had been conveying a message that might be good news but she'd rather not say more until it was confirmed. When they'd adjourned to the green where musicians were playing and couples dancing Kel found herself towed away from a conversation with Shinko by Duchess Wilina to the nearest quiet corner. Half-expecting a scolding Kel found herself instead recipient of a breathless apology.

"Lady Keladry, I'm sorry I've been such a grump, I didn't mean to be, but I hate this war and having Nealan and Yukimi in danger here, as well as dear Ryokel, I found it hard not to resent you for their loyalty even though Baird told me I was being silly, and I knew I was really but I don't think I could bear it if … well, no matter. I was wrong." The torrent of words slowed. "Belian's and Marra's pain has had me on edge anyway—too much of a reminder, as if I needed one—and I didn't like having all these immortals about but I'd have to be a complete fool not to realise several things after today. Nealan said you'd been distressed by my moods, and you don't need that."

"Your Grace, please don't worry about it. I can't imagine the loss you've suffered, and I worry about Yuki and Ryokel myself though I can't deny I'm selfishly glad they're here."

"Well, they're in the best possible hands, yours and the gods'."

With apology given and accepted there wasn't much else for them to talk about but Kel asked how Ryokel had coped with the day and endured enthusiastic answers until she could thank Wilina and return her to a ruefully smiling Baird. Looking around for her parents and Tobe she was distracted by sight of Alanna on the alure, gazing into the darkness, and lifting her kimonos Kel climbed the stairway to join her. Alanna said nothing and Kel thought she'd just ask anyway.

"Are you alright? Did you get news from your husband?"

"Yes." Alanna sighed. "He said he'd had to tell you Aly was missing, even though he hadn't told me."

"I'm sorry, Alanna. His reasons seemed sound. Did he find her?" "I'm not so sure about sound but yes, he's found her." "In Rajmuat?"

"No, on Lombyn. Bur she's not coming home, not yet anyway." Kel looked surprise and Alanna shrugged. "It sounds a long story and I don't know it all yet, but she's got herself mixed up in something that sounds way over her head. And the Isles are a mess however you look at them."

"Oh. Is the Crooked God involved?"

Purple eyes flared. "Not that I know. Should I expect him to be?"

"I'm not sure. Do you know about Irnai's message from Shakith?"

"Shakith? No, only that George said he'd been given reason to believe Aly was in the Copper Isles. What has Shakith to do with it?"

Kel told her, adding Cloestra's observations about Kyprioth and stirring. "I've no idea

what it's about, Alanna, but I am beginning to think the trickster gods are at least as deep in all this as any of them. Did you feel that power before the smell of blossoms?"

"I did—do you know what it was? Gainel can't do things like that."

"The Badger said it was Lord Sakuyo, who seems to have adopted us. Having him laugh here again is dazzling, and then this extra display. But maybe they're meant to be dazzling, and distracting—he's way off his territory, and after that business with the Hag, and the Crooked God at work too—well, I've stopped believing in coincidence. And all these tricksters turning up makes me wonder."

"About?"

"There's only one timeway, right? So if it's heading for a crisis or whatever this roil in it is, shouldn't that affect everywhere? Or more places than here, at any rate? And though this makes my head hurt, it must affect any prophecies that haven't been fulfilled, mustn't it?"

Alanna frowned. "I suppose."

"Well, that includes the Kyprish Prophecy Shakith mentioned, which Numair says is about restoring raka queens and the Crooked God to the status he had before the Rittevon conquest. So I wondered if he was trying to take advantage of the timeway problem, to bring about the fulfilment of that prophecy, and had recruited other tricksters."

"Huh. That's a thought. Have you mentioned it to Jon?" "No—I try to avoid gods with him if I possibly can."

Alanna smiled tiredly. "Understandable. He's not impious—he just doesn't like people more powerful than he is. And if the tricksters are up to something there's not much we can do. I'm just worrying about Aly, and have a nasty suspicion George is going to tell me she's grown up and made her decisions. But I'll tell him your thought."

"Gods know I understand your worry, Alanna, but it might not be all bad, you know. If we win through here I assume Maggur will be gone from the Bloody Throne, and if the Rittevons are gone too …"

"We can hope. But despite today's marvels—and it was a good ceremony, Kel, with a fine celebrant—I can't help remembering Princess Josiane and wondering if payment is falling due. Ah, don't worry about it. I'm just feeling blood on my hands today. I need to heal somebody."

Kel could offer the practical advice that Baird and Neal still had one or two tricky cases to deal with among the men of New Hope Second. Reben's bleeding guts had been fixed, but there was a man with a weak heart and another who'd been a very heavy drinker before being caught, and Alanna perked up at the thought, though she'd be leaving in the morning—but the underlying problems could only be waited on and the whole conversation was nigglingly unsatisfactory, leaving Kel restless. Her mood wasn't helped by encountering the Hollyroses, and there was little she could do to satisfy their curiosity about the Badger except refer them to Daine. Lady Marra's desire to talk of Merric was understandable and her grief had to be respected, but Kel didn't want to dwell on the dead and at the first opportunity excused herself.

The last female conversation was with her mother and more peaceful, though Kel found her mention of her own death had left her mother unusually sentimental and that she'd been talking to Tobe.

"He says everything's as good as it can be until the war's done—and won't that be a

welcome day—but that you work much too hard and do precious little else."

"Oh I don't know, Mama. Commanding anywhere's a full-time job, but I've been fletching and spending time with Yuki and Neal, and Daine."

"Which means Ryokel and Sarralyn as much as your friends. And fletching's not exactly not work, sweeting."

"Maybe. It's relaxing, though. You need a clear mind and steady hand. It lets the small stuff of the day float away."

"And the big stuff?"

"There's nothing I can do about that, Mama."

"Except all you do do. You look older every time I see you, sweeting, and … lonely, I suppose. I do understand what command means, but I think it's much harder on you than people realise. And harder than it would be for a man. I just wish I could help."

"You do, Mama. And if I'm lonely sometimes, well, there's always a price for rank and privilege. I'm not complaining."

"As if you would."

Uncomfortable despite herself Kel turned the talk to Mindelan and siblings, but her mother's eyes stayed bright and she felt like a girl again, solemnly giving assurances her desire to be a knight wasn't a reaction to anything her sisters said about her prospects. It hadn't been, though she now understood why her mother had been concerned; but it was water under the bridge and she let family gossip soothe her until Wyldon stopped by to say goodnight and she was guiltily recalled to her duties as hostess. Despite his protests she walked with him as far as the cavemouth, and was pleased to find his mood improved.

"It's hard to stay low surrounded by marvels, Keladry." He shook his head. "The Badger hasn't changed—appearing at the most unlikely moments—but to hear the gods' voices again …" His eyes lit with his smile. "And you made a fine priest, however irregular the ceremony."

"Don't you start. How anyone is supposed to witness their own oath I still have no idea."

"But you did it very nicely. And without turning us to business I do like what I've been hearing from the escort commanders. And Sir Voelden. I doubt I've ever made a better decision than to put you at Haven. Now, go enjoy yourself while I write to my wife."

As often his praise embarrassed her but there was warmth in that, and she couldn't deny she'd been pleased to make a good professional impression on the escorts, and with Voelden's participation. Enjoyment would have to wait, though, and she managed over the next hour to catch up with people she'd been neglecting, from assorted immortals, Roald, and Haryse to the commoner parents and Stanar. The prisoners had managed to get themselves drunk on what she suspected was very green beer, without melancholy or rowdiness, and were listening with Kawit and Kitten to Stanar telling a long story Kel realised from rhythm and alliteration must be one of the sagas he'd mentioned. The hero was a prince who had a problem with a dragon of the eald uhtsceatha kind eating people and lying about on a great heap of stolen gold between meals; it sounded unlikely and from the amusement in Kawit's eyes and indignation in Kitten's Kel thought there'd be a lively critique before the evening was out.

Looking round she saw Roald escorting Shinko towards their rooms, arms around one another, and realised a lot of people had retired, including almost all couples of whatever age. The

senior guests to whom she felt an obligation were gone, and even her parents had disappeared; the spidrens and Junior had departed, and stormwings that remained were roosting, heads pulled within hunched wings. Feeling tiredness in her legs she nevertheless made her evening round, talking to sentries and feeling pleased with their alert cheer; as Dom was off-duty, and she knew his new second, Garran, was nervous about his responsibilities, she included the corral despite the extra walk, and was pleased again to find everything in order under Peachblossom's beady eye. She took the chance to explain about the gelding and his independent role, resting her hand on his comforting bulk and enjoying the soldiers' spooked looks when he swivelled his head to glare up at a sentry whose eyes and ears weren't where they should be. Satisfied, she trudged back through the tunnel, conscious of the weight of her kimonos, and was about to turn off for bed when the sound of pain had her walking on to investigate. Dom was sitting on the path from the gatehouse, hands gripping his leg, and looked up as he heard her steps.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine." He grimaced, hands tightening. "It's just cramp and some bruising. I was going to check on Garran but as I knocked my leg yesterday it decided it'd done enough walking for today."

"Garran's fine—I've just done my round and Peachblossom's keeping him company. Tunnel sentries are good." He nodded, face tight with pain. "I bet you didn't get the bruise treated."

"Neal was busy."

"I've got some of that good bruisebalm Alanna makes. Come on."

She offered him a hand and hauled him up. The pain was clearly sharp and she didn't give him the chance to object but slipped an arm around him and supported him to the door of headquarters. Once inside he could use the wall, and on the stairs the railing she'd had the smiths install mostly because Tobe had a habit of racing up and down. Seeing him to a chair in her sitting room she fetched the bruisebalm—a new pot of the stuff Alanna had made for her as a page, that she'd begged at Midwinter—and excused herself for a moment, to let him use it and shed her kimonos at last. The underdress went too but she kept the fine knee-length shift that was the lowest layer and donned a simple dress that just covered it, wriggling shoulders in relief; kimonos were wonderful but a kind of Yamani mask themselves, reflecting the stillness that was in so many Island matters an ideal. Going to the sitting room she found Dom still clutching his leg, bruisebalm unopened. He looked up, trying to grin and managing only to look anguished.

"Sorry, Kel. Not ready to walk yet."

"I meant you to use it here, Dom. But you look as if you need help."

He looked away, voice low. "It's ugly, Kel."

"It's a wound, Dom. They happen. May I help?"

He said nothing and she knelt, easing his boot off. The trousers had a cuffstring to stop them riding up, which solved a minor mystery, and the brace had an unexpected elegance to its lines as she unbuckled it and set it aside, but the wound was every bit as bad as she'd imagined, a raw red scallop of thin-skinned flesh stretching from a little below his knee to an inch above his ankle. At its centre the lines of his bones showed, and the bruise across its upper half piled discolouration on deformity; her heart was beating painfully but she let nothing show and set the opened bruisebalm at her side.

"Applying this is going to hurt no matter what, but it works fast."

He nodded, looking away, dull shame reddening cheek and neck. She dabbed bruisebalm gently on irregular blotching, wondering what he'd hurt himself on, before daring to smooth it in, and marvelled at the heat of damaged flesh. He couldn't stifle relief and at last looked at her.

"Gods, that's good stuff, Kel."

"Isn't it? Alanna's a marvel. I don't know what I'd have done without it as a page, and it's come in handy with Tobe—how he manages to bang himself up so often I have no idea."

"It's a boy's gift, Kel. I always had bumps and scrapes at his age." "I bet. And now you've got cramp as well, haven't you?"

He nodded, wearily. "Often. It's the muscle left above that horror, all at a loose end Uncle Baird says."

She snorted softly. "Healers! You know the first press is going to hurt, but I don't know how much pressure's good and what's just hurting your wound, so you'll have to tell me."

She dug fingertips into the knotted muscle-ends left to him and heard his hiss of pain followed by a better sound as her strength eased the tightness. Sharply aware of his foot resting in her lap, heel pressing against her belly, and of her body beneath thin layers of shift and dress, she also found the rhythm of massage lulling, and awareness of his relaxation as pain left him a purer satisfaction than all the high ceremonies. When he was sagging with a slight smile and eyes closed she set his foot gently down and sat on the chair opposite.

"Better?"

"Miraculously." He opened his eyes, blueness dark in the mingled light of rockice and candles. "I can't dig my own fingers in like that."

"Anytime, Dom."

He flushed. "Kel, I can't—"

"Yes, you can. Or if I'm on duty Yuki gives a mean massage."

"I can't—"

"Yes, you can." She held up a hand. "Did Neal tell you about the elemental of the Chamber and Ordeals?"

He blinked. "Did Neal tell me what?"

"You know about knights not being allowed to discuss ordeals?"

"Yes, of course. It's forbidden."

"No it isn't—that's the point." She settled back, holding his eyes. "I asked the elemental, and it said it didn't care two hoots what anyone said about what it did. The silence is because of what it does—make people live out their deepest fears and feel ashamed. I watched everyone I love being killed, horribly—my parents and siblings, Yuki and Shinko, Lalasa, you and Neal— and I couldn't do anything. I was frozen, or crippled, just standing there. You go a little crazy and that's what it judges you on—like a smith heating metal until it can be shaped with flaws

hammered out. The reason no one talks about isn't because they can't—they don't want to because they're ashamed. So they suffer in silence when all they need do is share—talk it out. Neal thinks it's the same as having to drain a wound."

He was silent for a while before blowing out a breath. "Point taken, Kel. I'm being an idiot again, aren't I?"

"No, just a mortal, like most of us. I was as silent as anyone until all the business with Blayce meant I had to talk to the elemental. It was only then I started wondering."

He stared at her. "You really don't see it, do you?" "See what?"

"Kel, knights have been silent for generations about their Ordeals. My da called it the great duty of silence, and the phrase wasn't his. You were silent all of a year before busting the whole thing wide open." He shook his head. "Forgive me but I can't work you out at all. You spend the whole day storming through paperwork, appear at dusk like a goddess, and now—"

"Like what? Dom, what do you mean, like a goddess?"

He gestured helplessly. "That's what I thought when I saw you walking up to the shrines. I know you've never done anything like that before, but you were so serene and you held up those babies and eight gods answered you." His laugh was strained. "And an enormous badger appeared out of nowhere and you didn't bat an eyelid, just made a joke. What am I supposed to think?"

"Not that. Anything but that." Tears were threatening but she wouldn't shed them before him. "I'm mortal, Dom. You've seen me sweat and bleed. I've seen me die and I know it's wrong I'm still here, but please don't close me out like that."

Unthinkingly she'd drawn up her legs, arms round her knees, and when he flushed fiery red realised she'd been immodest and slammed her feet back to the floor, flushing herself.

His voice was tight. "I should go."

"No, please don't. I'm sorry I was so careless. I don't … I don't think of myself like that."

"You're sorry? You don't …" His voice trailed away and he took a breath. "Kel, the fault was mine. I'm sorry, I … I haven't …" His voice went flat. "Women don't much care for crippled men. But that's no excuse for thinking of you like that."

Understanding unrolled in her head, of a man who'd always been able to find female company when he wanted it, or needed it as soldiers did after combat, finding himself spurned and spurning himself when need was greatest. A man as inhibited as she was herself, who had this night exposed to her gaze and pity the wound that crippled him. The goddess beckoned her, smiling.

"Like what, Dom? A woman you might desire?" She took a breath. "And suppose I wanted you to think of me like that?"

Silence stretched before he met her gaze and she prayed she was right about what she thought she recognised in his eyes.

"Cleon never did anything more than kiss me, you know. The only … I was a virgin when the tauros raped me." She knew her voice had flattened and tried to make it rounder, though to her

ears she only sounded older. "I have desired you for a long time, Dom. Wanted you. I didn't suppose you thought of me that way. I didn't think anyone could." Her vision was blurring and she furiously blinked away the tears. "I don't know anything about it. But I want to." The silence was interminable and she still couldn't see him clearly.

"Kel, are you asking me to …"

"Yes. If you will."

"If I will? Gods." She heard awkward movement and felt her hands gently taken. "Kel, if that's what you want … it would be my honour."

"No, no honour, Dom. No honour, or pity or kindness."

She was crying in earnest now, and felt his finger brush tears away.

"My pleasure, then. Our pleasure, if we will. Look at me, Kel."

She did, and slowly, hesitantly, bent her head to meet his.

§

Tobe was the only one who saw them next morning, investigating the absence of a weapons teacher. It wasn't immodesty that stopped him as he opened the door after a cautious knock to see the sheet thrown off his ma and Captain Dom's hand draped from behind across her breasts, but the peaceful smile on her face and his apprehension of what sleep deep enough to survive his intrusion was worth. For once doors closed behind him as quietly as he could hope, and he tiptoed downstairs, thinking how surprised she'd be to see him cautious instead of helter-skelter. Back in the yard he faced the children, quirking an eyebrow at Gydo and Meech, who was yawning as he held his sister's hand.

"We're on our own this morning. Ma's sleeping in for once and I ain't waking her. So let's show ourselves what we can do, eh?"

Kel woke alone, and took a moment to realise there might be something wrong with that. The bed was still warm from Dom's body and memory swirled but she was tucked in as she normally never would be on waking, sheet neatly round her, and not altogether consciously she accepted his departure as thoughtful discretion. It was still early if unusually behindhand for her, a little after dawn, and after a moment she guiltily identified the sounds outside as children stacking spears after class.

She should be doing, but after throwing back the sheet and rising she found herself looking at the image in her mirror with amazement in her heart. The pregnancy charm between her breasts looked no different for having finally been called on, but she had a vivid image of it swinging beneath her, and if there had been no pain she was conscious of a satisfied tenderness as well as bubbling energy, and her lips were puffy. Dressed in her work clothes she sat for a minute,

intensely aware of her body but trying to collect her thoughts: she had not one regret and a churning sense of release, but her new relationship created an awkward situation—one that would be against army regulations if they acknowledged the existence of female commanders, and while she didn't think there'd be a problem at New Hope that didn't mean others elsewhere wouldn't try to create one; if they knew. Dom's discretion had given her an opportunity and reason said she should take it, but besides the part of her wanting to proclaim from the rooftops a lust more aroused than sated she wasn't sure she could conceal the new knowledge that seemed to shine in her; the grace of it, the wonder and joy. Surely people would have only to look at her and they would know what she had done, that she had entered a new fellowship?

Those who greeted her seemed to see nothing odd as she went to the shrines to offer silent, happy thanks to all but especially the Black God and the Goddess. At breakfast she had genuine hunger to assuage, forestalling conversation, and people were blearily uncommunicative anyway. Afterwards the gathering bustle of departures was welcome cover, and she didn't think Alanna was up to noticing much as she ignored protocol to hug her and whisper hopes for good news from Lombyn; nor was it an intuition she'd expect of Wyldon, though his gaze rested on her curiously before he followed Alanna through the gate. Roald too, having arrived early, thought he'd better get back to Northwatch even though he'd be leaving again for Corus in a month, and Baird went with him, having business with Vanget and Ferghal haMinch. Wilina and Terres were staying another day, so Shinko and her parents were too, and by lunchtime Kel wouldn't have bet a glass of water that Cricket, Yuki, and her mother hadn't a fair idea of what had happened; but they said nothing and she wasn't going to start that conversation.

With fieldwork limited there were plenty of hands for cleanup, and the work of cooking, bottling, bagging, labelling, and stacking foison. Kel was amused to see Yuki had killed several birds with one stone by asking Wilina to look after Ryokel while she worked in the kitchens, and when the Duchess wandered past the schoolhouse with her charge St'aara recruited her to expound mortal childcare to the children coming of age for that responsibility. As autumn schedules kicked in, with firewood gathering to begin in earnest and decisions about slaughtering or wintering livestock, Kel had plenty to do, and a discussion with Adner about what animals could be kept in the corral, necessitating a trip to see Whitelist and find out how many horses he expected to stable there, kept her focused. But she was continuously conscious of herself, vivid images of the night flickering in her mind, and even such a simple, ordinary business as riding Alder up valley proved a severe distraction from the task in hand. After she'd returned and finalised numbers with Adner there was a meeting with Brodhelm, Verrec, and Sir Voelden, and she agreed to expanded patrolling now fieldwork was reduced. Struck by inspiration she dragged them to see Cloestra and Amourta, now making small flights, and eventually left them working out co-ordinated aerial and ground inspections—Cloestra not minding especially where her exercise flights took her, and Kel wanting to be sure no unwelcome surprises were lurking anywhere near.

Having dealt with everything on the main level and in the caves it didn't seem unreasonable to head for the corral. As the day had passed without sight of Dom anxiety had joined joy, with attempts to imagine what they'd say to one another, and it was probably fortunate she met him in one of the zigzags through the limestone, with no-one else in sight and enough corners between them and the guards on the corral entrance and bridge that sound would be indistinct. His eyes lit up when he saw her, wondering and without regret, and anxiety vanished.

"Kel. I—"

She stopped him with a kiss, and just held him tightly, head on his shoulder and mouth by his ear. "I've been wanting you all day. Practice makes perfect. Come to my room later?"

"Gladly." He eased back to see her eyes. "But discreetly, yes?"

"I want to shout from the rooftops, but yes. I don't care about anyone here, unless it makes for a military problem, but given how people talk about me …" Anxiety returned. "You don't—"

"No. Hush."

"If—when—people find out, you might be a target of malice too."

"We'll deal if it happens."

"Alright. How's your leg?"

His eyes glinted. "Tired, in a way I didn't expect at all, and much better, thank you. The bruise has almost gone."

"More balm tonight."

"Oh yes. But we'd better be moving. I was coming to find you with an excuse about checking on these livestock arrangements."

By the time they emerged into the corral discussion of how best to reconcile stables and byre had become genuine, and one of the soldiers from the Second with experience as a cowhand —if only, Kel gathered, because it had been advisable to be absent from Corus at various times, and his brother kept a farm—was drawn in. Heading back to the main level Kel passed Yuki helping store apples and roots and managed what she hoped was a reasonable conversation centred on her friend's gratification at Ryokel's naming and new status as one of Sakuyo's Blessed; a condition which Kel pointed out also applied to her mother-in-law. The need for further communication with His Imperial Majesty was real, and Kel headed on to find Shinko and her parents. Their conversation was as absurd as earnest, and had them all wondering if it wouldn't be easier in the long run to ask the Emperor to assign a Sakuyan divine to New Hope, equipped with a supply of gold-and-jade tokens. Shinko was laughing behind her shukusen, but her eyes were serious.

"Keladry-chan, I know I cannot say it is no laughing matter but for my honoured uncle it really isn't." Shinko's eyes twinkled. "I know. But really."

"I don't think His Imperial Majesty need worry, Cricket. Listen a moment. What any of you pass on to him, or anyone, is up to you, but I'd rather you kept as quiet as possible otherwise, and didn't say anything to the King." Her father raised eyebrows. "I have talked to Alanna about it, Papa, but I try not to wind up discussing gods with His Majesty if I can avoid it—it just makes him fret about things out of his control." Her mother snorted and others grinned, Shinko again hiding behind her fan. "But I've been wondering about Lord Sakuyo and his fellow tricksters."

Shinko knew from Roald about Aly and her parents had found out somehow, so Kel was spared explaining that, but the Kyprish Prophecy was new to all, as were Shakith's confidence to George and Cloestra's thought about who would be stirring in the Isles; nor had they connected the Hag's presence during Kel's death, or felt the power that preceded the overpowering—very Yamani—scent of blossoms, and everyone's frowns deepened.

"It depends on this timeway which Diamondflame said mortals can't understand even if explained, but it doesn't seem to be like the threat from Uusoae that could have ended everything. Aside from the skullroad thing it seems more a crisis in mortal affairs, big enough for the gods to be concerned but not so big as to unite them. And one thing I've learned in the last year is that even when they have the same purpose their right hands don't always know what their left hands are doing. If Lord Sakuyo's watching here so closely—laughing twice where he's hardly known and doing something for Lord Gainel Lord Badger said was unexpected—and especially if he's in

alliance with the Hag and the Crooked God, he's not going to be stirring anything in Yaman, or wanting anyone else to. Things have been quiet, haven't they, Shinko?"

"So far as I know, Keladry-chan. In so far as they ever are." She looked apologetically at them all. "There have been Jindazhen raids, but the wolfships have been too busy here to raid elsewhere."

"That's what I thought. And there's nothing odd or different?"

"Not that I've heard."

"And you've heard nothing, Papa, Mama?"

"Nothing of real concern, my dear."

"And Carthak's the same—those Council papers said all seemed quiet there and Kaddar's rule increasingly secure. But there's whatever is happening here, with Maggur and this war, and instability in the Copper Isles with a child-king and what Sir Myles says already sounds like a very violent regency. Two thrones at stake, and a strong prophecy in each case, however different. Alanna thought there might be a connection through her too—from killing Princess Josiane." Kel hesitated. "And perhaps another factor—problems that have been ignored for too long. From what I can gather the raka have been all but enslaved since the Rittevon conquest—ground down, pushed aside, and treated very badly, so the Crooked God has reason to be angry on their behalf. And here … it's not the same—and I suspect Maggur's impiety in using death magic has done more than anything to interest the gods in Tortallan victory—but Scanra's still a problem we've neglected. King Jasson stopped short, and King Roald ignored the north completely. Raiding and a bigger effort every few decades to gain better farming territory have been accepted without anyone asking what drives it, so you could say we've been storing up a Maggur for ourselves."

"Ouch." Her father winced. "I'm afraid that's all too true, my dear. One question that's been exercising me since those diplomats pitched up is what a peace treaty should look like and I can't see helpful answers."

"Mmm, tell me. But the point is none of that's true for the Islands, so while I wouldn't say your uncle can relax, Shinko, I don't think he needs to worry." She turned to her parents. "And given the way he trusts you both I wondered if you might write letters to include with Shinko's. I am very conscious of how kind he's been, with the glaives and tokens and sending Takemahou-sensei and Lord Kiyomori, and I can just imagine how news of yesterday might go down. But I really do think that if Lord Sakuyo's here it's because his business is here—the gods know why. Or maybe they don't. But either way, here not Yaman."

"We can do that, my dear." Her father's gaze was appreciative. "That's an interesting analysis, and the connection through Alanna is one I hadn't made. It's odd. I don't know if you know, but last year Lord Wyldon thought there was a pattern, or echo, between you and Alanna as female knights killing necromancers."

"Huh. He's never mentioned that." Kel turned the idea and found herself remembering music from the evening before. "Who knows? But Barzha talked about the timeway completing a long spiral, and things like the skullroad coming round again—like echoes. Maybe it's like melody and harmony in music—a tune and repetitions of bits of it."

She didn't add the joke aspect she and Dom had speculated about, because that kind of irreverence was more soldierly than diplomatic or royal, but there was plenty to chew on. The discussion went on for a while but when it moved to detail of how to tell His Imperial Majesty she made excuses, only to find her mother following her out and tucking an arm through her own.

"Do you really have work, sweeting, or were you just ducking out?"

"A bit of both, Mama. I've said all I can that's of any use, and there's always things to be

doing."

"Nothing urgent though?"

"Nothing that can't wait."

"Then walk with me a little. With all the guests I haven't seen as much of you as I'd hoped. You seem happier today."

"Do I?" Kel didn't dare look at her mother as they climbed to the shelf and started round. "I'm just relieved it went alright yesterday, Mama. Honestly, if I'd wanted to be a priest I could just have gone to the convent and saved everyone ever so much trouble."

Her mother laughed. "Hardly, sweeting, though you made a lovely priest, I must say."

"Well, it's not like I'm wondering if anyone's listening. Wondering which god's appearance I'm going to have to dodge isn't quite the same."

"Keladry!"

"It's true, Mama. Between antlers and badgers and blossom it's an obstacle course. I suppose it offsets New Hope, because if there's anything more I can do about the defences I don't know what it is."

"You're babbling, sweeting. Well, not really—that made sense, I suppose—but you might as well be."

Kel took a breath. "Yes, I am. Mama, I—"

"Shh, sweeting. I'm not prying. I'm just happy for you. When you want to tell us who's made you happy you will. Just tell me if Tobe knows—I wouldn't want to say something wrong with him."

I don't know. I have a suspicion … but he will know before you see him again at Mindelan." They turned the corner by the north tower and Kel leant down carefully. "Dom."

"Ah." Ilane smiled as Kel nodded to Deren and Harrel, heading for the gatehouse. "What a nice man he is."

"Yes, he is. But Mama, I've no idea what will happen. What's possible. What duty will demand. And I'm sorry to mention lies with truth, but you know what people have said about me." Her arm tightened around her mother's. "I would spare him that, and I can imagine all too well what malice would invent even without the truth that I signed his fitness exemption to appoint him as captain of the corral. Just run that through Runnerspring's or Torhelm's minds."

Ilane sighed, and kept her voice low. "Gods, yes. You have grown old and wise, haven't you, sweeting? I think it would be more unpleasant than effective, but you're not wrong."

"Now run it through Lord Sakuyo's mind, in so far as any of us can." Kel necessarily stopped as her mother did, between one step and the next, but pulled her back into motion. "And isn't he most sincere when he's pulling his greatest jests? I dreamed that haiku I wrote out for him. Grace and hot needles amid blossoms under leaden skies."

They descended to the terrace, smiling at Cloestra and Amourta on their way to the shrines. Sakuyo seemed to grin at them and Kel offered him a slight, ironic bow. After a moment her mother followed suit but immediately pulled away, continuing along the terrace.

"You think you're a joke he's playing, sweeting?"

"The thought crossed my mind. It makes horribly good sense. But it's a very practical joke. And I don't think it's a joke on me, except incidentally. Either way, it's been a very useful joke so far, whether you're Tortallan or Yamani. And suppose we didn't say 'good joke', but … I don't know, 'brave hand'? Something worth remembering, whatever happens. And staying with gambling, which Lord Sakuyo likes by all accounts, what kind of pot might be at stake? Has Papa noticed that the two nations involved here are Tortall's remaining enemies? Or wondered what the world might look like if we had peace with Scanra and the Copper Isles as well as Yaman and Carthak?"

"Huh." Ilane was silent as they descended to the main level and headed to the green. "I don't think so, any more than I had. But we will. That's quite a perspective you have." They sat on the bench round the flagpole, where Kel's standard flew high above them, occasionally cracking in the breeze. "It's hard to know your child has surpassed you, sweeting. You hope for it, but it's humbling. And I'm betting you don't see it like that and find it bewildering and embarrassing even though you seem to sail through it all. Don't ever doubt you make your Papa and me very proud, Keladry. If it wasn't entirely rude we'd be bursting with it."

Kel found herself beyond blinking. "Just don't ever step back, Mama. Last night Dom tried to say I looked like a goddess yesterday and I told him never to say that. I'm only me, whatever happens."

Her mother's hand tightened on her own. "Alright, sweeting. I can understand that. Though I'll say there's no harm being a man's goddess sometimes, especially in bed. It's fair useful, as Daine would say."

"Mama!"

"I couldn't make a goddess blush, now could I?"

The silence matured into quietness as they watched the bustle of New Hope around them and Amourta's flapping progress from terrace to infirmary roof and back, eventually producing an irritated Neal who glared, scowled at Amourta's beaming smile from the rooftree, and retreated. At last Kel pulled herself upright.

"I really should be about it, Mama. There's the mailbag to pull together for Shinko's escort. I've done my letters, but there'll be stuff from the men. Which reminds me, is money alright?"

"Yes, sweeting. Thank you. The King came through with a handsome purse, and so did His Imperial Majesty when he heard about the Duchy, so we haven't needed to touch your money."

"Of which there is an absurd amount. Remember it does no good with the goldsmith. There are widows and orphans at Mindelan too."

"I'll remember, sweeting, but we're fine. Go deal with your mailbag."

Dinner felt very strange, especially when Kel met Dom's eyes, but she blessed her

mother's equanimity. Happily Wilina and Terres were talkative, thanking her and urging Neal and

Yuki to come to Queenscove at Midwinter, or at least Corus. Kel didn't know they'd been thinking of staying again, but gathered Yuki had reasons for wanting to stay, including, she'd bet, a clear sense that if she left she'd find it hard to return while war continued. Kel spoke mostly to her father, who while seeming to ramble drew a picture of awareness of New Hope and its products spreading on trade routes and in diplomatic correspondence.

With an early start planned and Wilina keen to make the most of her last hours with Ryokel no-one lingered, but with easing fieldwork there were quite a few people sitting out and talking when Kel made her evening round. Aware that on any other night she'd have been delighted at their ease but wishing them all fast asleep she broke through swirling impatience to amusement, and found she didn't care if or when they found out that she'd … what? Taken a lover? Lived up for the first time to a reputation she'd been saddled with on becoming a page? Discretion was sensible but secrecy needless, and she headed back to her room to see Tobe, Jump, and Nari, and possess herself in patience; Goddess knew she had enough to think about.

For all she should have been bone-tired next morning she actually felt astonishingly relaxed while full of fizzing energy her body seemed to be releasing like a spring, and her pre-dawn pattern dance flowed with a smoothness that had her mother and Shinko applauding. The laughter in her mother's eyes and the whisper of "Goddess" in her ear as they embraced was a different balm, and she saw people off with mixed emotions. The loss of Daine and Numair (and Sarralyn) was a blow, and almost everyone was sorry to see Kawit and Kitten go, but she was relieved to have so many important visitors off her hands, and she'd be seeing them all again soon in any case.

Rather than taking the potentially dangerous Frasrlund road and turning south along the coast her parents were heading south with Wilina as far as the River Oak, forty miles south of Bearsford, and striking west. That far south there should be no Scanran threat but there were other dangers and despite protests Kel provided an escort of Brodhelm's patrollers who would see them to Mindelan and return via Frasrlund, Steadfast, and Mastiff.

Clear of guests for the first time in days, routines asserted themselves, with new ones among them. Her concerned caution about Dom's leg and the limitations she gradually realised it placed on more than his soldiering meant as many nights alone as not, but space and time were necessary to absorb and digest the infinitely many things he was teaching her she had never known about the possibilities of her body; and his. After a few days she gave in to the sparking curiosity in Yuki's eyes, and found herself shocked by the detail her friend expected.

"Ah, Keladry-chan, you have spent too much time with boys and not enough with girls. We will have to remedy this."

"Will we? It seems very rude." It might be entertaining, though. "Just don't tell Neal. I don't think Dom or I could cope with dramatics right now."

Yuki laughed. "Alright. He is exhausted from dealing with his mother, anyway." "Is Wilina a terrible mother-in-law, then?"

"Oh no. By Yamani standards she is amazingly nice. But to be the only surviving son, well, she is very focused on him and thinks Ryokel should have a brother." She giggled. "I almost told her one night when she didn't want us to withdraw that we needed privacy to set about it."

Kel couldn't stop her grin, though the image was one she didn't want to pursue, and Yuki's knowledge proved a comfort as well as, once or twice, a resource. Dom, though wondering at her mother's attitude, was fascinatingly amused by Yuki's; what he had to say about women was more surprising to Kel than what he had to say about men, and the new world

unfolding about and within her became ever more intriguing.

She was doing inventory with Reben Carpenter and congratulating herself on appointing him when Jacut came to tell her Mikal had been sighted with the other soldiers who'd been on leave. For a few weeks New Hope would be at full compliment, save the squad with her parents, and there were things she and Brodhelm had been thinking about doing with that opportunity. Signing the inventory she asked Reben to notify all knights and captains of a meeting, and dug out her own file of plans and suggestions with a smile she didn't even notice.


	23. Chapter 21

Identity

Part VI – Samhain

October 462 – January 463 HE

Chapter Twenty-One — Identity

October – November

The warm spell continued and Adner, with others reckoning themselves weatherwise spoke of a mild, wet winter. Kel found herself in a long exchange with Vanget, Wyldon, Alanna, and Raoul about the implications. Even if the borderlands stayed snow-free no-one could be sure how Scanra would be affected, and for Hamrkeng to be so was by all accounts unheard of; meantime there would be no point at which anyone could relax knowing troop movement was impossible until a thaw.

One question arising was which commanders would go where. By rights Raoul and Vanget should head south this year, but Kel was expected to address Runnerspring's complaint and for Lalasa's wedding, and Alanna had compelling reasons to go south—yet the possibility of winter action had to be provided for. Listening to them argue Kel decided Vanget was perfectly happy to avoid Corus and, less expectedly, Raoul too: she knew he hated the parties, but thought Buri might have liked to get away. Wyldon was ambivalent, wanting to visit Cavall but sufficiently concerned to agree to stay, and lively discussion followed about how many proxies anyone might reasonably hold, from which Kel emerged holding Raoul's while Vanget's and Wyldon's would go to Alanna as the senior commander travelling. Ennor was intending to go south himself, so she wouldn't bear his this year, and if Wyldon protested that Pirate's Swoop holding Cavall's proxy suggested the world turned upside down, Kel suspected he was actually quite amused; it wasn't as if any of the social issues that most divided them were expected to come up, and in the only likely vote they were in agreement. The thought crossed her mind that he might, however improbably to some, also see extra value in having lady knights as the army's representatives, and she made a note to ask him about the pattern he'd thought he detected

After the other links had closed Kel stayed talking to Raoul, discovering Buri didn't want to travel because she was—just—pregnant. Delighted, she had him call her and gave good wishes in person, quietly reminding her of the goddess's spiral, before seeking advice about Thayet in relation to Lalasa's wedding that had Buri grinning and regretting she'd miss it. When Raoul asked after Dom Kel hoped she'd answered naturally but saw Buri give her a look; ignoring it, she suggested one advantage of expected mildness was that Tortallans could travel too, and if it did stay snow-free Wolset and his lads would be welcome at Midwinter Thereafter conversation meandered, Raoul asking about events at Mabon and Kel about what Rider groups had been up to.

Closer to home, besides a review of equipment and training, the major exercise Kel and

Brodhelm decided was necessary was what they called the Siege Plan—what would happen if New Hope faced a major attack with everyone inside the walls? Fieldworkers didn't stint on training and were competent and cool-minded, but beyond self-defence their orders in the event of an attack were simply to get themselves and if possible livestock to shelter, and they'd never been tested on what would ensue if an attack were more than a raid. Over the long farming season even guards forgot about assignments and duty stations inside the walls; on top of which such training had never been properly given to newer Tirrsmonters and immortals, nor to New Hope Second, while the addition of the corral had consequences.

As mistakes piled up Kel and Brodhelm watched with resignation. That evening Kel spoke to everyone, going through the functions involved as clearly as possible for something so complex. Defence of the walls was the imperative, and while first responsibility fell to the companies everyone bar the youngest and frailest had a station on the alures if called on. Short of that there were a score of things needed to maintain defence and should opportunity arise prepare a sally—food, water, and relief between attacks, resupply of ammunition, and evacuations to the infirmary, all without getting in the way of the reserve. Neal would need extra hands, as would the cooks, while any sally force would need horses ready; and livestock needed looking after even if the usual people were busy. Those who couldn't fight or had charge of infants needed to stay safe in the caves, where prisoners would confine themselves, but older children had parts to play, as did immortals—and once you factored in casualties there were the joys of cross-training and secondary stations.

Beyond the concomitants of any siege there were nightmare scenarios Kel insisted everyone practice—fighting retreats to caves-and-corral with as much livestock as possible. Assault would probably come through the gatehouse, which would require one formation, but if enemies somehow came over or through walls something else would be required; and if there were a period when the outer wall was lost but the inner still held, something different again. She took questions, giving crisp answers, and when Lasner asked whether she really thought an attack could happen, spoke openly for the first time of the prophecy.

It was a calculated decision. After Dom's comment Kel had made discreet enquiries and found he was right—most adults knew something, and she'd concluded that as secrecy could no longer be served accuracy was preferable. So having talked to Irnai, who'd shrugged, she told them all what the seer had cried out in that unearthly voice.

"Queen Barzha said it, people—Shakith didn't say that, in that way, because there was going to be a raid or skirmish. We don't know if it will be a thousand or ten thousand Scanrans. We don't know when, or what their plans will be except Maggur wants me dead and New Hope gone. But we do know that sooner or later they have to come and we have to survive. I hope we can win and that's why the war will be over. But surviving comes first and we will be ready, so we'll be drilling each bit, and then do today again. As often as necessary."

They grumbled about disruption but took drills seriously, with rapid effects. There were also, besides everything arising about the sally force, the defences beyond the walls, and with rockfalls an open question about their best targets—troops, mages, command groups, siege engines, or wagons. Having heard her captains argue in circles Kel convened a full meeting of the Council, and asked for ideas. Besides collecting an interesting set of viewpoints and a memorable analysis from Quenuresh that coincided with her own instincts, Kel also had questions about immortals' self-defensive capacities that hadn't been sufficiently explored. If one was considering such things as siege engines—trebuchets, catapults, or mangonels—it was notable that basilisks could shatter stone as well as make and meld it; and that a spidren who could pass unseen through a city might do as much to an army camp. Knowing animals could within their limits spy and take other actions, as Kel, Dom, and Uinse knew from their fights on the way to Rathhausak. And then there were the stormwings.

The principal reason Kel hadn't held a full Council for so long was to allow Barzha to settle and New Hope to accrue credit with the Stone Tree Nation. Now she kept her word by promise and treaty, and the meeting was held with shutters wide and a scrupulously clean Barzha perched on the sill. For the most part she kept silent, though the relative values of targets provoked tart observations, drawing her further into the collective enterprise of defence; but the question of more active contributions couldn't be avoided and Kel sat back, turning to look at the stormwing queen directly.

"Your Majesty, I've had long conversations with the Godborn and others who fought in the Immortals War, and I understand stormwings are vulnerable to arrows and magery. Within the limits of our treaty you may of course have your own priorities on the battlefield, but all of your Nation are welcome to shelter at New Hope when you wish. The only thing I ask is cleanliness— illness is a great weapon for besiegers—and I explicitly do not ask you to fight. But aerial reconnaissance—from having a look at whatever's coming as soon as we know it's there to surveying any camp—could be invaluable."

Barzha nodded, claws screeching on the stone. "I hear you, Protector, and how carefully you ask, so I will be frank. We remain undecided about this. I am willing, as are a majority of my flock, but others are cautious and I am loath to command them against their wills. We lost many in the Immortals War besides Rikash Moonsword and alliance with mortals is not easy." Her face, regal and austere, was a testimony to grief and diminution. "And well may the Godborn remind you of our vulnerability—she may be the greatest stormwing slayer in history, not only of such as Zhaneh Bitterclaws who needed killing as much as the Kinslayer."

Kel saw surprise on people's faces—for all her strangeness Daine didn't seem one who could have such a reputation—but she knew how hard won friendship with Rikash had been. With the tale of Dunlath the story had been an inspiration for Kel. Barzha saw the surprise too.

"Oh yes. Don't ever stand between the Godborn and one she loves. But much has happened since, and we have seen the ease of Cloestra's laying, with the Green Lady's aid. As much as Amourta's bond to this place those are things none can ignore. I watch the timeway, and have thought on centuries to come. So yes, Protector, I promise that when battle comes you will have stormwings to fly for you—myself, Hebakh, and Cloestra if no others—but I cannot promise more."

"Thank you, Your Majesty—that is fairly spoken. We must address how to summon you at need, and what we wish you to be alert for."

Slowly answers were hammered out, and over the next fortnight tested and emended. Stormwings could flash light from their wings with precision, and Barzha and Hebakh at least could also cast light, wormy and silver, so in the end that aspect was satisfactory. Moving large numbers of horses through the tunnel was less so, and Tobe instituted a by-tens rule, with space between each string to prevent congestion in the zigzag. Conflicting duty assignments were also uncovered and resolved—a matter of chagrin for Kel and Brodhelm, but inevitable with so many people and permutations involved.

More excitingly, as a reward for the horses' endurance of the tunnel, Kel authorised exercises in sallying. With patrols out, pickets posted, stormwing surveillance, and a centaur promise to watch the woods carefully, she could be reasonably certain the corral and upper valley were unobserved, and groups of varying sizes practiced getting over the drawbridge and round the fin at maximum speed. As numbers ramped up, drawing in soldiers from all stations, redistribution and reinforcement of those who remained with civilian squads was worked out, culminating in a full-blown sudden sally exercise with the largest force New Hope could field. More than three hundred soldiers filed rapidly from alures and jogged through the tunnel to horses saddled and

waiting, while as many civilians took their places as smoothly as a regular change of shift. It wasn't like-for-like but heavy arrow-fire and competent close defence could be maintained while a force capable of doing real damage got itself round the fin and back. By day's end everyone was tired but pleased, and Kel lavished praise before saying cheerfully drills would continue throughout the winter.

She also had a coldly professional session with captains, knights, and company seconds, on the gatehouse roof with clear views of the various killing fields and the large, carefully organised case of mageblast keys as a compelling prop. She began by itemising the forces they might face—irregulars, regulars, loyalist and conscripted, and special forces from troops of frothing beserkir to giants, any of which might have mage support. The point of killing fields was to kill—not repel, but trap into slaughter—and Kel went through ways in which that horror could be carried out, forcing them to make professional estimates of numbers. There was also the question of when killing ceased to be best, and creating large numbers of wounded became a more effective and demoralising hindrance.

If enemies charged the roadway how many men would be caught between first and last pit-traps? How many would die on stakes? How many arrows would ensure any left standing were swiftly dead or beyond fighting? And how many should be allowed to pass the uppermost trap before it was blown? How long would it take to kill them all? How were arrows to be retrieved? In what order should pits be used to maximise enemy casualties on each occasion? And when would the bombs in the roadway wall do most damage? In the killing field between the walls what damage would spikes alone do? and the best uses of blazebalm, crossbow fire, and slingshot? In the barbican should basilisk-heated urine be poured through murder-holes before or after the roadway pit was blown? Long before they were done Seaver, Prosper, and Neal were green and everyone grim-faced.

"I pray it doesn't come to that, or anything like. But I think it will, and there is one possible benefit, because if Maggur's serious about taking New Hope he's going to have to send troops who can absorb heavy casualties and keep coming. Gods know Scanrans aren't short of courage but that takes more, and we know he's got loyalty problems. But if he does send his best, he's sending the men who keep him on the Bloody Throne, who took him from Rathhausak to Hamrkeng, didn't blink at necromancy, and enforce his hostage policy. And if we can force him to expend them against our killing fields—ideally, expend them all—then we won't just win here, we'll open the way to end the war fast and hard, and lay a foundation for peace that might last." She let them absorb it. "One more thing—mageblasts are command business, and my hands will be on them. I've come to believe that may be why the Black God's behaved to me as he has. But if I fall, or they strike while I'm away, you all need to be able to do what has to be done. Make no mistake, people—a protracted siege is unworkable, because Tortallan reinforcements would come in sufficient numbers to force a retreat or trap them. So if they come they have to assault, sooner rather than later, and when they do we have to bleed them and bleed them again. You can hope it won't fall to you, but settle yourselves to the possibility."

The flat approval of Brodhelm and other regulars, as well as Uinse and Jacut, helped the knights accept it, though substitution of butchery for chivalry grated. Kel made a point of talking to them all over the next days: Neal understood—he just didn't like it—but Yuki was more ruthless, as Kel was, and saw him through it. Seaver was more of a puzzle, and Kel uncharitably thought even his distress was tempered by his laziness. Prosper was most deeply troubled, but it was disjunction between understanding a need and facing practicalities. He hadn't had a knight master like Raoul or Alanna, who might epitomise chivalry but also worked with the army and knew what a limited part ideals could play in war, and hadn't yet met the kraken himself in the kind of combat that killed companies and broke armies. He knew it and there wasn't much Kel could do, but she made an effort to fill out the larger picture: such slaughters didn't happen often, even by immortals' reckoning, but history taught clearly the consequences of turning defeat into

annihilation and those of failing to do so if opportunity offered. And if what she would do at need diminished her in his eyes, so much the better.

She said as much to Dom in night watches they stole together, usually in her rooms. Lying with her head on his chest, marvelling at him, or massaging his leg, strong fingers digging to loosen kinked muscle, she had begun to learn the pleasures of confidence. He had more experience of intimacy but never, as he mock -solemnly pointed out, with a woman like her, and in convalescence he had become tightly closed; he also had a harder time than she accepting divine intercessions, yet had to do so more abruptly. Speaking at first to his chest but later to his face she had told him all the Black God, Hag, and Goddess had done; with him inhibitions of shame were meaningless. He held her tightly, and after asking some questions and letting it turn in his mind kissed her gently.

"Kel, you know I can't get my head around gods like that, but I'll be thanking them sincerely. The Black God, especially. And the Goddess, for very rude reasons." He kissed her nose, making her smile. "And I'm not sure why, but I like the idea he absolved you of those you send to him because he knew there'd have to be a lot of them before this thing is done much more than the way that worked with your executing Rogal. I understand what you were doing then better, though. Was that what you'd told Uncle Baird about the day of Merric's funeral."

"Yes. I couldn't bear it just then, and he was being kind. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." "Don't be. I wouldn't have told me, if that makes sense."

"Maybe, but quite a few people know by now. Neal and Yuki, my parents, and Belian and Marra."

"You told Merric's parents?"

"Everyone I asked said telling them about his ghost and Rogal's was right, and it made no sense without the Black God's gift to me."

"Huh. No wonder they looked poleaxed."

"They prayed at Rogal's grave as well as Merric's. Well, Marra did, but Belian went

along."

"If Uncle Baird and Aunt Wilina had had that offer when Graeme and Willam were killed —knowing them safe in the god's arms, and the soldiers who'd killed them dead and forgiven as well—they'd have taken it with both hands."

Kel hadn't thought of it in those terms, but Dom was right. Better still was that acceptance of what she might have to do didn't stop him holding her, kissing her, wanting her. Wanting her. In a very male way he seemed to think himself as blessed by the Goddess's repairs as she was, and she enjoyed the results too much to argue, but kindness and accrued friendship were enriched by whatever might be growing between them, and she was moved to tears by that fact.

In turn he told her things she didn't think he'd spoken of to anyone, or not in the same way —seductions he'd thought a soldier's perk and known as a soldier's need, and the disjunction there'd always been between haunting intimacies of war and assuaging intimacies of the bedchamber; a disjunction she resolved. His uncertainties didn't bother her; she was profoundly uncertain herself, and as nights passed conversations spread, dealing with facts but engaging with hopes. Both knew there were other possibilities than a happy future, and though after finding her invisible bracelet he resisted her morbidity about her chances he acknowledged the shadow of the timeway; they could equally assume survival, especially when it came to comforting dreams. He

didn't shy from the idea of marriage, though dubious of his suitability, but a wild flight into the noble complications if she did become a baroness was enough to have them both looking perfectly appalled until Kel declared she'd just hand the whole problem of precedence to Master Oakbridge. That called for explanation of what the fussy etiquette master was like to serve, followed by demonstration of bows and graces he demanded; as she hadn't put any clothes on the results weren't what she'd anticipated.

She kept her promise to her mother and sat down with Tobe to make sure he knew. Quite what he thought about men and women she wasn't sure, but he'd known the facts of life as early as any neglected child in a busy inn, understood what trust and loyalty meant, and already loved Dom, so all was well. To see them together was a boon that made Kel feel warmly sentimental, and the only indiscreet thing Dom did was to join her in teaching the dawn class. She saw looks from older ones when they arrived together with Tobe, and received an urchin grin from Loesia, but that worried her as little as the speculation in Connac's gaze when his shift pattern brought the new arrangement to his notice.

What worried her more was that she'd miss Dom horribly while she was away. To have always been without was one thing; to have a new discovery taken away quite another—but he laughed ruefully and told her a number of remarkable things soldiers—men—said about this condition, adding that it made reunions very satisfactory. That was a thought to ponder, and he added, intriguingly, that the best poem among many Neal had wished on him down the years had dealt with the problem very justly, but Neal had called him a soulless puppet of the flesh and insisted it was about something else altogether. He didn't remember its title or author, setting a nice problem in finding it without asking Neal, who remained blissfully ignorant—to Yuki's amusement and Kel's relief.

Soon after the ides the squad who'd been to Mindelan returned with mailbags. Confirming their arrival to Wyldon Kel found him unusually agitated, waving a letter, but alarm dissipated as she gathered Owen had been sufficiently emboldened by good reports on his stint as second to ask permission to court Margarry of Cavall.

"It's all very well you smiling, Keladry, but she's barely eighteen and wilful with it, and he's still a madcap hellion on his good days."

"He's asking properly, Wyldon, and he's been serious about someone for a while. I didn't know it was Margarry but that explains how hesitant he was." She couldn't hold back a smile. "As to being a hellion, he needs to be. You're very intimidating as a prospective father-in-law, you know."

"So I should hope!"

"And he's bearded you in the most traditional way."

"I know." He sounded gloomy. "It makes it difficult to refuse."

"Perhaps you should set him three impossible tasks."

He scowled. "You wait until your daughters bring home hellions."

To Kel in her present state of mind that was a dream, and she left him scowling to write Owen a letter of encouragement and praise on his reports. This she could convey to Neal, who whooped, declared Owen brave to the point of lunacy, which they all knew, and wrote himself with advice about poetry Kel hoped Owen would have the sense to ignore. She also reported her suggestion about impossible tasks, spurring ridiculous suggestions, and the running joke leavened the aftermath of what Kel had had to say about killing fields and the continuing drills.

It was for Kel what she slowly realised was a happy time, anxieties ameliorated if never vanquished. She was working hard and training was visibly paying off, so her drive to do her utmost was assuaged, and the wonders of her nights left her as relaxed as she could remember and too tired to fret over things she couldn't do anything about. Yuki's amusement at the cause of her new grace with her glaive didn't stop her becoming very thoughtful after one especially good display and giving Kel the formal bow to a sensei of weapons, which pleased her enormously; it was not something Yuki would do lightly, and in her years at the Yamani court she'd seen the sensei who lived or performed there—people Kel had watched avidly and dreamed of emulating before Alanna focussed her on knighthood. She had an extra bounce in her step for several days, and a cheerfully proud explanation to offer anyone who noticed, but with November looming sunshine at last disappeared into grey days and rain, though the air remained mild. Considering the calendar Kel knew she should be on her way to Mindelan, felt her reluctance, and with a deep breath gave orders for an escort to prepare.

The journey was interesting, despite drizzle and a lulling quiet in which the party seemed the only people moving in the world. At Mastiff she managed a conversation with Wyldon, finding that during discussion of proxies he had wondered about coincidences involving lady knights and necromancers, but had nothing to add. The facts were as they were, and however odd the generational echo it wasn't of any practical use either could see. He did remark how well she looked, and for a moment conscience tried to tell her she owed him honesty in a matter that could be construed as military business, but she decided for once discretion was the better part of valour; the less fuss the better, and she wanted to cherish her good fortune inside herself, as she might cup hands around a warm mug in winter.

At Steadfast Buri's assessing gaze was sharper but she said nothing though she gave Kel a warm hug and seemed pleased for her—if Kel was reading her rightly through her joy in pregnancy. Given Buri's age Raoul worried about the chanciness of childbed; Kel made sure he was aware of the Green Lady's gift, seeing plans for a New Hope delivery wheel in his eyes. It was the first time Kel had seen them together since their wedding, and she was amused by the Kmiri hangings and rugs transforming Raoul's quarters. Buri's weapons and armour were neatly stacked, as ready as Raoul's, but as she said, laughing, when Kel complimented her, working with military austerity didn't mean you had to come home to it, and rugs had more than one use.

Kel sought out Wolset and his men, delivering the letter Dom owed them. The children were warmly welcomed, all of them conscious of other soldiers listening as they caught up, adding assurances of Dom's well-being. Wolset's account of the action that had seen Dom's wound, others chipping in, was a fascinating counterpoint to his own, marked by incredulity that the Scanran had survived the wound that took him down, let alone managed a blow; Dom's sense of foolish error was entirely missing. Kel repeated their standing invitation to New Hope and suggested they bend my Lord's ear to remind him of his promise.

It was Samhain, and after eating Kel and the children watched the festivities, enjoying the bonfire. She'd held a minimal ceremony at New Hope the year before, but she'd been withdrawn and in the wake of a memorable Mabon and the deadly attack that followed no-one wanted more. Here it seemed a more important feast, not only as a break from routine; folk had come in from some way around, taking the chance to trade but more for company. Commander's eyes had made Kel aware of soldiers' liaisons on such occasions but she watched with new imagination until Wolset came to drag them to hear a storyteller.

His reasons became clear as the old man began a tale of the Wild Hunt Kel had never heard. His hands were gnarled but his voice was strong and full of drama as a man who killed his neighbour in a foolish dispute found himself pursued by red-eyed hounds who could not lose the scent of guilt, baying him for their antlered, owl-eyed master; when the sun rose his body was found on his victim's doorstep, face filled with terror, the ground marked with the pawprints of giant hounds. Seeing Tobe and Irnai the man's eyes lit up and he pitched the story carefully for them, so after he'd finished Kel went with them to thank him.

"You'm welcome, lady. It's good to see new faces. The old ones 'ave 'eard all me stories long since."

"No odds with such a teller." He grinned. "I noticed you didn't name the master of the hunt. Would I be right to think it's Lord Weiryn?"

"Right and wrong, lady."

"Oh?" She sat, drawing the children into the circle of her arms.

"Leastwise, it is Lord Weiryn but not as you'd meet 'im in the woods, out settin' snares or the like, nor on Beltane, like they say the Green Lady did. He's not the same when 'e leads the 'Unt, and my Da who taught me the stories never would name 'im then, so I don't neither."

"Huh." She could sense Tobe's desire to speak of the god he'd met and squeezed his shoulder. "Can you say how different? Is it just hunting for the pot and for justice, or is there more to it?"

"When you meets 'im in the woods 'e's always alone, they say, and mayhap 'e'll answer if you speak 'im fair, but there's no talking when 'e's running with 'is 'ounds."

"And the Hunt cannot fail of its prey."

"That's right."

"Nor mistake it? Have you ever heard tales of the Hunt being wrong? Of a justice that was uncertain?"

"Not one, lady. There's tales like that of King's Justice but never the 'Unt. It's guilt those red-eyed 'ounds smell, and if you'm not the one they'll pass you by." He cocked his head. "Why'm you askin', lady?"

"I was thinking of the shrine to Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady at New Hope."

"Ah. They say they graced them when they was dedicated, but they says a lot of that place. Was you there?"

"Yes, that story's true. He and the Green Lady appeared."

Kel described events as if seen from the crowd and the children caught on. The old man's eyes were wide as he nodded at details of clothing and antlers and Tobe's mention of the bow given 'Lady Kel'.

"Well, that's somethin' you don't 'ear every day. May'ap if old Maggur falls off 'is throne I'll pay them shrines a visit. I've told tales of Lord Weiryn all me life and I'd be glad to give 'im thanks."

"And mayhap we'll push Maggur off that throne so you can."

They left him with a look in his eyes Kel found mirrored in Tobe's and Irnai's. She didn't need to explain why she'd chosen discretion, but they were curious about why she'd been interested in the Hunt.

"I'm not sure, but his story reminded me Daine never talks about the Hunt or that side of her da. I don't know what she knows—I think she sees him mostly with her ma, and I don't suppose he brings the Hunt home. Queenclaw wouldn't like it." They'd enjoyed stories of the cat goddess ordering people to stroke her, and had lively imaginations of the Green Lady's kitchen. "But I was thinking we ought to thank all of him. And that those red-eyed hounds are like Provost's Dogs, only more so."

Riding on for Frasrlund the children asked for other tales of the Hunt. Kel and the escorting soldiers knew a few, but lacked the old man's skill as a teller. Kel also had eyes on the landscape, beyond Steadfast new in detail if not in kind. They were following the Vassa as the great river cleared the Grimholds and found the plain beyond that stretched to the sea. It widened but still flowed cold and fast, and the lowlands were made for farming—or should have been. On the Tortallan side were plenty of abandoned buildings and as they neared Frasrlund more that were beginning to be restored, but on the Scanran side Kel's spyglass showed fewer structures and ploughed land run wholly to seed.

At its meeting with the sea the Vassa split into a deep northern and shallower southern arm; Frasrlund perched on a rocky island between, joined to the rest of Tortall by a causeway that could only be crossed at low tide. They were out of luck on arrival but the children didn't mind, staring at the grey expanse of ocean with open mouths, and Kel was shocked to realise neither had ever seen the sea. After they'd rubbed down the horses she walked with them on foreshore and beach, explaining dangers and wonders and tides; rock pools yielded starfish and crabs but the waves meant skipping stones was out and the chill damp sent them back to the inn attached to the guardhouse.

Folk were gathering for low tide and their escort had made themselves at home in the parlour, so they found themselves greeted with a mix of solemn regard, cautious deference, and avid curiosity that would have been amusing if it wasn't irritating. Brodhelm hadn't been exaggerating and opportunities to speak plainly shouldn't be passed up, so Kel made herself answer questions, stressing the contributions of immortals and acknowledging blessings, attributed firmly to divine disgust with necromancy. Tobe and Irnai told the Rathhausak story, and Kel saw familiarity from her report made it more eagerly received than denials of stranger ideas about New Hope. People were odd, she thought, but made sure to say New Hope would welcome visitors when peace allowed and reminded them their own Brodhelm knew the way well.

At last a guard swung in to say the causeway would shortly be open, and they made farewells. The pitted roadway was lined with seaweed and barnacles, and Alder picked his way carefully; it made for slow progress but they arrived safely at the city gate to find Alanna and Lord Ennor waiting at the head of a civic reception, the streets behind crowded.

Graciously acknowledging greetings and introducing the children Kel wanted to glare but realised neither Alanna nor Lord Ennor could have had much choice. The mixed emotions she'd seen in the inn were present at much greater pitches, fed by the density of the small city, and New Hope was fabulous to these people. In the end, glancing at Lord Ennor for permission, she raised her voice and thanked them in the name of New Hope, reminding them that for all its marvels it was less than a week's ride away. She and the children still had to endure drinks with leading merchants but her polite refusal of wine paved the way to plead collective hunger and Lord Ennor escorted them to the keep where he lived, offering brusque apologies.

"Couldn't stop it, my Lady, when they learned you were coming. My congratulations on

the way you handled it—well judged."

"I had a dry run waiting on the tide. But we'd be genuinely glad of food—lunchtime seems a long way back."

"I bet." He gave the children a shrewd glance. "Freshen up and I'll get things moving."

Alanna came with them, giving Kel a summary of repairs under way and helping Irnai into a dress. Her eyes were on Kel, and as the children scampered out she turned.

"Would I be right to think you've finally put the Goddess's blessing to some use?" Kel flushed. "That's answer enough." She clapped Kel roundly on the shoulder. "High time."

Kel glared. "What is it with women? You take one look and know what I've been doing behind very closed doors."

Alanna gave a dirty laugh. "Your ma and Yuki? Ha. Anyway, the first morning after didn't you feel everyone could tell just by looking?" She laughed again at Kel's expression. "I remember that. But it's not true except for people you know well." She fell in beside Kel, following the children. "Though I must say in your case it's plain for those with eyes to see. You were wound tight as a spring, Kel, and now you're humming. I bet your pattern dances have improved. It's a side benefit that makes me really grateful to the Goddess."

Kel's fascination overcame embarrassed indignation—milder than it would have been not long ago—but the conversation had to wait as Lord Ennor welcomed them to a laden table. He was a widower and his sons were working in the south of the fief where there'd been damage from wolfship raids the previous year, so they were alone save for a servant who brought and cleared plates. Alanna briskly led Ennor to dispense with vocatives and though Kel thought the children's presence inhibited him he politely set about finding out for himself, as he put it without apology, what she was really made of.

He had experience of Yamani traders and was interested in her childhood, but what concerned him were estimates of the strength of New Hope and how it affected the balance of the border. Remembering his support last Midwinter, for which she thanked him, Kel answered crisply but as strategic questions became dominant spoke of Zerhalm, Rathhausakers, and prisoners, bringing Tobe and Irnai in. She didn't shirk questions her father had asked about the shape of a peace treaty, nor the demands the false ambassadors used as negotiating positions.

"A fortress is all very well, and right now it's vital, but we can't seal the border so if we want to stop this pattern of constant raids and wars every thirty years we have to change conditions in Scanra. And bluntly, the middle classes don't go raiding on horseback across borders. I've heard people say we must punish Scanra, but that won't work half as well as making it more prosperous. So the question is how to replace Maggur's way of ruling to mutual advantage?" Kel held Ennor's gaze. "Take that abandoned farmland north of the Vassa, which hasn't run to seed like that since war started. When it was working land the produce must have come through you." He grunted acknowledgement. "And you must want it back, but that means helping, not punishing. And gods know Maggur's punished Scanra enough. I'll never forget what we saw in Rathhausak."

He grunted again. "I don't disagree, Keladry, but the southern lords have always refused the investment needed. They're happy to have trade coming south, but no interest in having the north develop. It'd threaten their dominance."

"Tell me." Alanna's voice was sour. "George and I have been sending money to Trebond for years and it's never enough."

"But things are changing." Kel didn't want to be explicit in front of Tobe and Irnai, not because she feared their discretion but because hopes could be as much burden as boost. "You insisted yourself the log-jam on the Council had been broken, and that was before we knew about the questions concerning Genlith and others." From his look of distaste she saw Ennor knew what she meant. "If they're doing what we think those southern lords are going to take a big hit, one way or another. And for my money—and maybe a lot of people's—the most important thing about New Hope, when it stops being the glacis and palisades, is the Craftsbeings' Guild, because if webbing, stoneware, and icelights go south money is going to come north. Which reminds me, I brought an icelight rod for you, Ennor—I'm sorry it's small but they weigh a bit."

Alanna grinned. "I warned you, Ennor. A merchant as well as a warrior and priest, eh

Kel?"

She was unabashed. "Certainly. Why should I want New Hope to be a poor fief maintained as a fort at Crown expense? Or to spend thirty years waiting to fight the poor Scanrans again? We're shipping through Mindelan, because I could get a very good deal there, but in peacetime shipping down the Vassa would make sense, so it's in our interest to be sure Frasrlund has nice big icelights for, oh, harbour and causeway and wherever they might do good."

"I'll think on that, surely." Ennor smiled but his look was sharp. "You're bidding fair to be a good neighbour, then?"

"Certainly, and it's not just New Hope, Ennor. Var'istaan, St'aara, Amiir'aan and the other basilisks were wandering round Tortall for a decade being rejected by scared villagers or stoneworkers who feared for their livelihoods. How much could they have done if we'd recruited them? I don't think anything would have been possible with stormwings before, but what would you give for a seawatch twenty miles out?"

"Now there's a thought. And I'll say, Keladry, I like what I hear. I didn't doubt Alanna or Vanget, nor Brodhelm, but it's good to know oneself. You have my support with Runnerspring— what he thinks he's doing I can't imagine. Tell me, if you will—you'll apply for the fief now?"

"When the time comes, but I still think that's in peace."

"Fair enough, though I'm not sure I agree. Whenever it comes, it'll be good for us, and I find I actually look forward to trying to sort out this border. You're bringing new things to the mix. Still, from the looks of young Tobeis and Irnai I should let you get them to bed."

Kel gratefully found hers too. The tides meant leaving very early or so late the next wayhouse would be out of range, so they took a day in Frasrlund. Despite constant attention she was able to look round city and harbour with the children, enjoying a conversation with Yamani merchants surprised to hear their tongue who recognised them as Sakuyo's Blessed, and lunching on fresh seacatch. The afternoon was more businesslike, Ennor being sufficiently taken with the icelight to ask her to accompany him to discussions with his harbour and causeway masters. The possibility of lights in any shape or size had to be offset against their working far better at night than on a heavily overcast day but lack of maintenance costs weighed too. Wharfs and warehouses had to be lit, and Kel talked a little of what it would mean to have streets lit at night; Frasrlund was no Corus to warrant its own Rogue but where goods were stored they were pilfered, and some everywhere might seek advantage in darkness to improve their fortunes.

All in all it was a pleasant, practical day she hoped had begun to put New Hope's fantastical reputation to mutually beneficial use, and after another evening meal with useful discussion she went to bed satisfied, if missing Dom as much as she'd feared. Ennor would sail for Port Caynn at the end of the month, but Alanna, whom even the idea of a sea-journey could leave

green, was heading south with them to Mindelan and would go on to Corus via Blue Harbour. On the coast road drizzle was replaced by squalls, but between them, when not pointing out sea stacks and arches or the way the water's colours shifted with depth and light, Kel had a running conversation with Alanna. Of Aly the Lioness said only that she was safe, from the sound of it causing other people trouble, and they should wait on George's report in Corus, but about men and what they said or believed about intimacy she was frank, funny, and alarming. Kel found herself redefining Yuki's level of detail as quite decorous, and if she learned more than she wanted about the King she was grateful and said so. Alanna looked at her with eyes darker than usual despite the bracing air and coastal light.

"No offence to your mother, Kel, but I think of you as another daughter. Goddess knows I love Alianne so much it hurts but I've never understood her and it's clear she's taking after George. But you I understood, and gods messing with you doesn't change that." She brooded while Kel absorbed this, marvelling. "I hadn't realised what a state you'd got into, though, thanks to Cavall's idiotic obsession with keeping us apart. I should use his proxy to vote for something radical just to serve him right, but that's by the by. What isn't is the Hag, and while I'd gladly beat her with her own stick for the way she did it I'm afraid she did have a point about teasing you."

Kel let out a sigh. "The thought crossed my mind. But what was I supposed to do? Wyldon would have dismissed me as a page for seeing boys, and Raoul wasn't wrong to warn me about lovers and commanders."

"All true, but people find ways. Older people too, but the young are especially ingenious. Desire's so fierce when it's new."

"Maybe so, but most people don't have half Tortall watching them in hope of a mistake. Are any of these girls in training now going to serve in the army? Assuming there's peace by then the need will be less urgent, but it's not like there won't be things for the army to be doing. And while it's early days I think Fiannola's got that something. I'd like to get Raoul to take her as a squire."

Alanna grinned. "Sorry, he's booked for Alan. But I agree the army will want Fiannola. The others too, probably. Why?"

"Because regulations need rewriting. I've been protected in odd ways and put in command very early, but suppose I was serving as a junior officer somewhere isolated—where would my protection be ?"

"Ouch."

"You should look at Yamani regulations."

"Eh? They don't have women officers, do they?"

"No, but they don't think sex is only between men and women."

"Heh. I shouldn't argue that with the army council, which is where this should go. What do the Yamanis say, then?"

"Intimacy's forbidden in the chain of command but not outside it and when permissible subject to relevant civil codes."

"Makes sense. Nice and clear, too." Alanna grinned. "And if we did have such a regulation, Kel, would it happen you'd be in breach of it?"

"It would, which is one reason I'd appreciate as much silence as you can manage." Alanna

stuck out her tongue and Kel laughed. "I know, but I've no wish either to have to lie or to give Runnerspring any truths to hurl for a change. And on the basis of existing regulations you could argue that if my lover was a civilian at New Hope I'd be in breach of duty too, which would leave me a choice of immortals. I suppose some of the stormwings clean up quite nicely."

"Kel!" For once she'd managed to scandalise Alanna; there was a liberation in conversations on the road. "That's … really not a thought I want to pursue."

"Fair enough, but do you remember that herdmaster Greystreak? Oily hair in ringlets, fair-skinned, blue roan, and a horrid attitude."

"Oh yes. What about him?"

"First time he met me he couldn't stop staring at my hips. Said I'd birth his kind easily and offered Raoul three horses for me."

"The cursed cheek! I hope Raoul taught him some manners." "Peachblossom and Drum did."

Alanna cackled. "Oh right—I remember that story now. Mmm. If we're going to have more contact with immortals we will have to think about that. It'll give Turomot something to chew on when he's stopped spluttering. Gods." She shook her head. "I do hear what you're saying about the road you've had to walk, Kel, that you're still walking, and I'm sorry for it. But I'm gladder you've won through, with the Goddess's help." She gave a salacious grin. "Does he know how blessed he is?"

Kel shook her head. "Sometimes you think just like a man." "I know. Just ask my poor Bazhir."

That story carried them to the wayhouse, and an early start next day brought them inland round low hills, bypassing Seabeth-and-Seajen, to the upper Domin by late afternoon. The weather had improved and before they crossed into the fief Kel had Tobe put on a Mindelan tunic.

"It saves people having to ask, Tobe." He nodded and Kel ruffled his hair. "It'll be fine."

She had butterflies herself, and was wearing a Mindelan tunic of her own as well as hanging her shield with her device visible. Besides her brief stay during the Progress she'd hardly been home in a decade, and didn't much resemble her siblings; the thought of people there being like those at Frasrlund, gaping wonder, induced a hollow feeling, but it would be her first return since passing her Ordeal, once a dream beyond an all-consuming goal. Alanna gave her space but as the landscape became familiar Kel roused herself to tell the children—and avidly listening escort—about what they were seeing. The people they began to pass stared and offered bows or curtseys to which Kel returned waves with growing tension in her gut, but the gateguards were evidently pleased their most famous daughter had returned at last. The flag above the gatehouse showing her parents were in residence sported the same golden border as her own but the shield above the gates had yet to be changed, and she nudged Tobe; that was one Midwinter gift solved, even if it might have to be a promissory note on the day. When they came to the wide street leading from gatehouse to keep and the family house beside it word had spread with its usual uncanny speed, and the way was lined with curious faces. A small part of Kel was mortified but a greater part acknowledged their right, which she hadn't felt of the crowds in Corus, and when she saw people she recognised, a chandler who sold all sorts of things that had intrigued her as a ten-year-old standing with his family in his shop doorway, she dismounted with Tobe and Irnai to introduce them and promise a proper visit. They were delighted, and the crowd amused, when

Alder put his

head over Tobe's shoulder to whuffle at the scents of rope and tar; they also noticed the boy's ease with a warhorse it wouldn't do to argue with, and when Kel named Irnai, making sure her voice carried, there was a little gust of sound. Kel gave Irnai's shoulder an apologetic squeeze but the seer was untroubled, smiling happily at the chandler and looking about with interest.

Her family was waiting, doors flung wide to spill light, with beaming smiles—or in the cases of her younger nieces and nephews solemn and curious stares. Ostlers led the escort away and, with a word of warning from Kel, Alder, and she turned to face her family, gathering the children. Her father had never been one for public speaking but had to welcome Alanna as King's Champion and added one to Tobe on his first visit, which the crowd applauded; courtesy led him to offer Irnai one, and there was more applause and shouts of 'Blessed'. But while he might cordially dislike addressing crowds her father—the Duke, Kel thought, watching him— understood politics and knew his people, so he squared his shoulders and looked at her with what she realised was a mix of apology and pride with much more swirling beneath.

"Keladry, my dear, what can I say? We always expected you to return as a Lady Knight but you come as so much more—Commander of New Hope, of which all speak; Protector of the Small, to mortals and immortals alike; King's Councillor alongside me ere you are half my age, and the youngest in memory; Blessed of Lord Sakuyo, and of the Black God and Goddess beyond dreaming. You make us very proud."

To Kel's shock he gave her a bow, with everyone following, before enfolding her in his familiar hug. She didn't know if she was more horrified or thunderstricken, but thought getting herself inside out of sight as soon as possible was the best idea; behind her she could hear the crowd dip too, and forced herself to smile and wave before shepherding parents and children alike towards the door, smiling still as best she could at nephews and nieces. Inside there was a gauntlet of servants, whose welcomes could not be ignored, and by the time she made it through with Tobe and Irnai her emotions were tamped down—barely—and her headache vicious. It was fortunate Alanna was there, weather eye as sharp as her mother's, and helped Kel gain the bedroom assigned her—not one she'd ever used—before taking the children to their own and leaving her blessedly alone. A racking burst of sobs eased her head a little, though what they mourned she couldn't have said, and Alanna, slipping back in already dressed in soft breeches and shirt, banished the pain with a trickle of purple fire.

"You're going to want to wash your face, Kel, as well as changing." "Oh, yes, alright. I'm so—"

"Hush. Don't be silly. Piers didn't have a choice and gods know every word was true, but that would jangle anyone's nerves."

She held together, buoyed by the absence of pain and simple curiosity of the younger children. Vorinna and Tilaine were unsure what to make of her, Anders and Inness glad to see her, as she to see them, and when Inness's five-year-old tugged her sleeve and asked with some scepticism if she'd really had a snowfight with a dragon she drew him onto her lap and told him yes, she really had, with two dragons, and the smaller had won. Tobe and Irnai—objects of children's curiosity as well as the discreet regard of adults—could vouch for it, and had ridden the larger dragon. Until the children were collectively swept away to bed by their mothers, taking Tobe and Irnai for storytelling purposes, dragons and other immortals were very much the topic, and there was prosaic calm in insisting on basilisks, ogres, even stormwings as people; Junior remained a menace but having had to duck a griffin recklessly showing off flying skills emphasised how different Amiir'aan and Amourta were. When the adults were alone Inness grinned at her.

"You must be sick of people saying so, Kel, but it does all sound like a fairy tale."

She summoned energy to stick out her tongue. "I suppose it does, Inness, but it's a fairy tale you can visit. And you wait until I can have a word with your spidrens—Quenuresh says there's some who'll come and listen at least—so you might find it's even closer than you think."

"Gods, yes. I'm not looking forward to that."

"I don't blame you. Spidrens take some getting used to."

"Quenuresh certainly does." Her father shuddered gently. "Not an easy diplomatic assignment, but I'm glad the ones here will talk. We haven't had trouble with them for months— they're keeping themselves to the deeper woods, and I'm hoping it's deliberate restraint." A smile drifted onto his face. "We've laid in extra cheese."

"It's a good start." She hesitated. "I want to go with Tobe to Conal's grave in the morning, but I could try the spidrens in the afternoon. Quenuresh's given me a bit of web she says will summon the one she's heard from, but I don't know how long it might take."

"Then the day after would be better, my dear. And we'll all keep you company in the morning—unless you'd rather we didn't."

"As you will, Papa. I've told you all I know. I just want to pay my last respects to him, and thank the Black God again with Tobe."

"Of course. I've told the family about Tobe's forgiveness and the dream you shared, so it doesn't need repeating."

The talk went on for a while, and after Alanna and her parents had retired Kel found herself staying later than she wanted with Anders and Inness, giving them an incomplete but frank account of her dealings with the Black God. It was easier with emotions blunted from tears and Alanna's healing, and the slightly thick head that followed; she hadn't felt she owed an account to Adie or Orie, let alone Conal, but her elder brothers were another matter. Perhaps it was their knowledge of combat, or tolerance of her chivalric ambitions; they heard differently, appreciating as others had not, even her parents, what she tried to say about the sadness of the god's eyes. They also reacted distinctly to her effective status as a priest, amused in a way she could appreciate and thoughtful in a way that surprised her about things she might share with Avinar and their father's quiet piety. And there was an instinctive reaction of fraternal comfort, always missing in Conal, that soothed her as she hugged them goodnight and made her way to an unfamiliar bed.

Kel woke as usual before dawn, and if the household was surprised to find her and Tobe well exercised by breakfast no-one said anything. The visit to Conal's grave was simple, peaceful, and purely mortal; the Black God had vouchsafed his promise and you didn't need to ask twice. The act of respect mattered to Kel but she thought the visit more important to Tobe, and Anders and Inness, who had watched their brother die. The swathe of new graves was shocking but with the mild weather greenery had spread over turned earth. Other bereaved families were tending their dead, and for all the grief in the air Kel thought the Black God's benison shared; the losses, however cruel, seemed mourned rather than resented. She was aware of responsibility for the attack but past claiming guilts she didn't have to shoulder.

Alanna came in courtesy but left afterward, promising to see Kel in Corus, and she spent the day wandering with the children. After the harbour and basic layout, and delivering letters from Heliana to startled friends, came time in the chandler's, where she ordered bolts of stout canvas for New Hope and hanks of larger rope than the army had; they also acquired a spyglass Tobe coveted and from a bookseller who catered to her father's tastes Yamani books for him and Yuki, and a book of travels taller than true that enchanted Irnai. They met Vorinna and Tilaine for lunch at an inn on the main square, and despite public scrutiny Kel thought it an hour well spent: it was her sisters-in-law' territory and gave her a chance to answer questions they were willing to ask. They adored her brothers and their children, and as anxiety about her and Tobe eased their essential goodwill came to the fore.

The trip next day to the forest east of the Domin was much more nerve-racking, but Kel was comforted by Irnai's insistence on coming, despite her brothers' protests. The male spidren who emerged only half-an-hour after she'd held aloft the fragment of webbing was smaller than Aldoven or any of Quenuresh's kin save the babies. He was called Vorgitarl, wasn't a mage but what Kel decided must be the spidren equivalent of a hedgewitch, and he and his kin had indeed been practicing restraint, in desperation, but the woods, hunted by mortals as well as the People, could not support them for much longer.

The trust Kel offered in leaving their escort at a distance mattered, as did her father and brothers being there, but not as much as her presence with Irnai, unarmed, and she saw amazement in Anders's and Inness's faces when the spidren addressed her as Protector. It was there again when she described how treaties with Quenuresh and Aldoven worked and insisted it be sworn in Mindelan, witnessed by all.

"It's hard, but as experience of mortal anger and pursuit governs your fears, experience of immortal predation and hostility governs ours, and mutual experience of safe speech will govern acceptance. And as we offer trust, providing food now and inviting you among us, so you must offer trust and come." She smiled, ignoring bristles she still wished the immortals were without. "I would ask you establish trade as soon as may be. Old webbing for cheese, at least—seawinds blow cold enough that insulation will be welcome—and I don't know if webbing can be used for fishing-nets, but that would be good. Or with keep and curtain walls to maintain there's always a use for beings who climb them as we'd cross a floor. Come an hour after dawn to the bluffs above the Domin, nearest the city gate. I once met another spidren there, with less happy results, but I will gladly meet you and your kin there and escort you to the city."

Vorgitarl nodded with a sigh. "We will be there. Quenuresh is right—we must learn to live with mortals. It is new in these realms but the timeway turns and we must turn with it or fall from it."

She considered him gravely. "That is so. Even stormwings and dragons agree. And between us we can help it turn for the better. Will you ask your kin to stand clear of the eaves a moment that we may see them? And meet the guards who will help me tomorrow?"

She waved the escort forward and as a score of spidrens minced clear of the treeline, anxiety on their faces, she named the sweating men who spoke to Vorgitarl and were spoken to, each kind tense but drawing on Kel's and Irnai's calm. When it was done and the spidrens had withdrawn Kel fixed the men with gaze and voice.

"As with any former enemy, it's not easy and takes time. I don't know Vorgitarl and can't promise he'll keep his word. But I think he is sincere and I know other spidrens sworn to treaty have kept their words, in spirit and letter. They are old beings—the least of those we saw has lived for centuries—and do not give oath lightly. So the question is easy—do you want your children and grandchildren, if you're lucky, to grow up wary of making a spidren meal whenever they go

wooding, or a world where spidrens help defend them against whatever may come calling?" She let it sink in, thought battling with fear. "I know they repel. I don't like the teeth and hair either— not one bit. But if you can get past that, well, every one of you has now spoken civilly to a spidren, close enough to touch, and you're alive to tell the tale." She glanced at Anders and Inness. "Which with my brothers' permission is what I want you all to spend the rest of today doing. People are fearful, and some will say things born of fear or have scores they'll say should be settled with every spidren. All I ask is you tell them the truth of what you've seen and done today, and ask them the same question I asked you."

Kin and escort alike were silent on the way back, and when they were back in the house her father embraced her, called her 'my dear' in a voice that melted her heart, and left her with Anders and Inness. She helped them disarm, not having bothered with armour herself beyond her jerkin, and made tea as they sat heavily in chairs around a welcome fire, Anders rubbing his leg and Inness his recently healed wounds. When she sat herself he looked up with an odd smile.

"Little sister, that was as brave as anything I've ever seen."

She met his gaze as her blush faded. "Not really, Inness. The first time with Quenuresh, who's three times Vorgitarl's size, took some doing. But I wasn't expecting trouble today, and I've learned to read them a little. There was no threat."

He blew out a breath. "If you say so. My compliments all the same."

"Mine too, but not quite for the same reason." Anders glanced at Inness. "You weren't here, but I remember the day Kel met a spidren on the Domin—it was when you decided to accept Cavall's offer of probation, wasn't it? After saving those kittens."

Kel nodded. "Except I didn't save all the kittens. It killed two of them before my eyes. I swore I wouldn't be letting that happen again."

"It was the spidren she went after with stones and bare hands, Inness. At ten. And it wasn't any smaller than Vorgitarl, besides a whole lot meaner. But you know, Kel, I thought you'd been crazy brave, and I told you so. You heard me too, I remember. But today—that wasn't crazy at all. You say you weren't scared but I saw you holding it down, and what you did with the men … well, I wanted to say I begin to understand why men follow you. Why people do."

"Oh yes." Inness nodded. "That was command, civil and military together." He lifted his teacup to her. "Lady Knight."

Moved, Kel found she felt like talking but not about spidrens, and bearded them by turning to the fact that the elemental forbade no-one from talking about Ordeals, and telling Anders she'd be making sure Lachran knew it. Astonishing them all over again was satisfying and though she didn't report all she knew she did mention the revived traditions beyond Ordeals, and additional forms of testing in the wake of Joren's and Vinson's failures. His death still wasn't public knowledge and women's vulnerability wasn't a subject she wanted to dwell on, but the prospect of excluding men like the Torhelms from knighthood was welcome to all and the politics that might spin from it caught Anders's imagination. Kel had realised that though her oldest brother had always known he would inherit a barony he was struggling with the notion of inheriting a duchy and Lachran's changed expectations. She half-wondered if he wanted her to take his son as a squire, but discovered he'd already had discussions with Imrah, under whose command he'd been fighting when injured, and who hadn't taken a squire since Roald.

"I went to Legann briefly, Kel, by sea, to confirm arrangements over New Hope trade, and we caught up. I think Lord Imrah genuinely likes the look of Lachran, but he had an eye to the consequences of Pa's elevation so it seemed worth asking and he agreed."

Kel nodded happily. She thought she'd like to take a squire one day, but not yet. "Good. Imrah's a nice man, I've found—we had a chat when he got back from Torhelm. That's when I did the trade deal, presuming on your goodwill."

"As if you needed to ask."

"Well, it was a liberty all the same. But in the longer run I'm hoping the duties New Hope does pay will make you quite a lot of money for the fief. I've been talking to Ennor of Frasrlund too."

The conversation rolled to trade and what Mindelan needed and hoped for as a duchy, and continued into dinner with Kel's parents and the children vouching for basilisk-and-mage architecture. Kel's simple—to her—contention that the Craftsbeings' Guild owed Mindelan for the trade deal and, once peace permitted, a Guild work party should come to repay it, met with excited protest that no-one owed anything. A further observation—that if they attracted a basilisk and began to produce mesh for use at sea they would make a fortune and need to set up their own branch of the Guild, bound by the same profit-sharing approach—produced a different burst of conversation, and she grinned at her parents over the babble. They smiled back but without ceasing to look thoughtful and Kel realised even they had not altogether put together what she hoped the Guild might become.

The lesson was spectacularly driven home next morning, when, with a manifestly unconcerned Tobe and Irnai as well as the sweating escort, she ushered the spidrens to the square. People blanched but looked, and Kel drew on the respect she'd inherited with the wondering admiration she'd earned and willed the crowd to calmness, not allowing occasional gagging or cries to affect the peace she imposed. She read the treaty aloud, strong voice carrying throughout the square and beyond, and witnessed as King's Councillor and Protector of the Small oaths her father and Vorgitarl swore. A token round of cheese was presented and a bundle of webbing delivered, at Anders's cunning suggestion, to a popular, notoriously drafty waterfront tavern; that caught fancies but the moment that tipped the crowd was the swift repair, further along the quayside, of a badly torn and urgently needed fishing net.

"It will not last more than a few months, Protector." Vorgitarl was factual rather than apologetic. "It is waterproof, but salt will eat at it. Still, if such repairs are of value we are happy to trade our help."

The fishermen examining the work stood and shakily bowed thanks, and Kel felt the ripple of acceptance flow through all who saw and heard. Whatever else it did Mindelan fished, and a source of emergency repair at a speed no mortal could match was of tangible value. Even so enough was enough, and with the children Kel walked the spidrens back to the gate, though she left it to the escort to see them to the Domin. It would take time but seeds had sprouted, and walking back she spoke easily to many, cheerfully admitting the strain of spidren conversation, underlining the rewards and duties of mutual good faith, and mentioning trade prospects. Reaching home to collapse by the fire, and being brought tea by an admiring Inness, she called it a good day's work and rejoiced in general agreement. Her parents told the tale of Bonedancer and Quenuresh, not for the first time but to newly understanding ears, and her account of Lindhall Reed's chagrin when the flying fossil had landed on the Green Lady to rub its head on her breast brought scandalised squeaks and renewed laughter.

The rest of the visit was, thankfully, eventless. Kel got to know nieces and nephews she had only met as infants and toddlers during the Progress. Her escort were in effect on leave, and after she'd shown them the city, buying them a drink in the waterfront tavern where webbing was now packed around windows and much discussed, they were happy to go with Tobe and Irnai when they wanted to wander, leaving Kel time with her brothers and parents. She walked walls

and harbour defences with Anders and Inness, suggesting things that could be done if a basilisk visited; Laar'aan would be willing, and there were places on the seawalls where obsidian spiking would be of real use, as well as a section of the keep with cracks masons struggled to repair. Her smooth grace in dawn pattern dances attracted an audience, as well as a ghostly wink from her mother, and Anders asked her to drop by the guards' training and give what advice she could— more a matter of breaking routine with fresh challenges than anything else She left them enthusiasts for slingwork by setting up targets resembling bodies visible over a gunwale, giving one a clay head, and cracking it open at better than fifty yards. Her ability to beat experienced sergeants in staff- and swordplay brought brasher guards up short, and her unusual mix of authority and kindness worked on them as it had at Haven and New Hope. They also sought the company of her escort, who backed her with flat statements of what the empty Greenwoods valley had looked like when they first saw it and what was there now, of raids and funerals afterward, of Scything Wheat and Rogal's execution. In consequence the guards took to calling her Lady Kel, but among the townsfolk she had to endure 'Protector', thanks to Vorgitarl, and in any longer conversation found herself insisting on Lady Kel, with limited success.

Her parents commiserated with her frustration but also had a long conversation with her about status, power, and the authority of names. There wasn't much she hadn't begun to realise for herself, but as with reading Orchan of Eridui trained clarity helped organise in her head one mind and body with multiple identities. She was used to the phenomenon in rulers, from the differing levels of protocol the Yamani emperor required or could dispense with, and had seen it in Alanna, Daine and Numair, Cricket, even Yuki when she gained formal Queenscove rank; but while she lived it of necessity, she hadn't been able to think it through. Nights with Dom in the world their bed became had changed something—another side benefit to thank the Goddess for, she decided, wondering whether to tell Alanna. With her innermost self engaged with another's— her new knowledge of who she was naked, of wholeness and completion—her radiating rings of public authority became clearer: Knight, Commander, Protector, Councillor. Here in Mindelan her status as duke's daughter was a variant of commander, and if she was ennobled in her own right to rule New Hope that would be another. Whatever their complications, gods were only another context to which every identity owed thanks and courtesy, and the immortals only other pieces on their chessboard with their own rings of identity and power to tend as they walked the timeway. The chaotic buzz of worry about the future, fears for those she loved and guarded, didn't go away, but like massing known and unknown threats to New Hope were kept at bay by the glacis and palisades of the duties she owed herself and those over whom she stood in authority, in whatever capacity. As clarity sank in the ease of her body rose into her mind, and she slept dreamlessly though her own hands were a poor substitute for Dom's.

It was pleasant but only an interlude, and the weather, still unseasonably mild, was growing cooler as days shortened and sunshine thinned. A storm leaving everything harbour-bound for a week could blow up any time, and prevailing westerlies meant a lot of tacking before a ship heading south could clear the great cape sheltering Blue Harbour and run south-west for Port Caynn. After discussions with her father about Runnerspring's complaint her restlessness grew; it was a sideshow and she wanted it done, to get through this strange, slight winter to the spring that must surely end dragging inaction. The children too, though relaxed, were eager for the bustle of Corus, and when they took ship the only one who objected was Alder, whose opinions of the sea Tobe said were much like Alanna's, if horsier. But his intelligence worked against him and when Tobe stared, hands on hips, from the top of the gangplank, he reluctantly made his way on board, snorting.

As the ship worked out of the harbour Kel sat with the children in her arms, explaining what was happening as sailors rushed about, hauling and trimming, stowing anchor and cable, and setting a bewildering variety of sails. She didn't look back, but wondered how long it might be before she saw Mindelan again.


	24. Chapter 22

Authority

Chapter Twenty-Two — Authority

1–18 December

They arrived ten days before festivities opened with the Council session and Queen's Ball. Kel had a long agenda, some of which she suspected was needless—on the political side meetings with other Councillors already present, including Padraig and Duke Gareth; on the military, meetings Alanna arranged with members of the Army Council to float suggestions, from testing recruits for skill with the sling to the putative regulations to protect female officers; and chief among personal business, meetings with Lalasa and Tomas, in a quiet frenzy of preparation for their wedding on the third day of festivities. Kel's notes had had the desired effect, and Thayet and Shinko had more-or-less extorted invitations. Lalasa alternated between thrilled astonishment and indignant trepidation but Kel was unrepentant. Amid it all she was mindful: she and the children always wore their jerkins, and while Tobe and Irnai might go about the Palace as they would, visiting Daine, Numair, Kawit, and other friends, if they wanted to go to her parents', the Temple District, or lower city they went with men of her escort. She had locks of hair to track them if necessary, and Numair respelled their rooms and checked the bracelets.

Most of her political meetings were dull, serving only to underline that no-one understood what Runnerspring wanted. There was humming and hawing about noble courtesies but no doubt about legalities or that the oddity of Rogal's presence called for explanation. Even Macayhill, to whom she gave an account of events with Vorgitarl, was unsympathetic to Runnerspring, and if he couldn't approve her acting as executioner agreed someone had had to. At their request she took Tobe and Irnai to her meeting with Duke Gareth, ostensibly in case they might again be summoned, a possibility he dryly denied, but really to see his bearskin. They found themselves as loath to step on it as Numair said Gareth was, and she saw him suppress a smile as they made their way round its edge, the children's eyes wide and her own not far behind at the sheer size of the thing; the meeting was better tempered than the last and he called her Lady Keladry rather than Lady Knight, but his puzzlement about Runnerspring seemed as great as anyone's.

"As far as I can tell he just wants his complaint official. He knows he has no support. It's a waste of time but he has the right to table business, however foolishly."

"And there's no chance he has another surprise complainant?"

"One would think he'd have learned better from what happened with Tirrsmont, Lady Keladry. I certainly wouldn't care to try to surprise you. But no, not that I can discover, and he'd need to give notice to His Majesty. Much more interesting, frankly, is these icelights you've started making and the city business arising from that."

They discussed those, but with her main business done she made excuses, released the children to find Kitten, and went to a longer, more productive meeting with Turomot. Faced with her careful questions about the Guild he called a senior assistant whom she spent a cheerful hour tripping on his assumptions, to Turomot's increasingly thoughtful approval, and when she turned to wider issues of immortals' rights and duties under treaty a different assistant whose dry legality was very helpful even if his eyebrows were in his hair long before she was done. After that she spoke about Rogal, and Turomot tested her grasp of the laws and precedents involved before huffing satisfaction.

"It's an unusual case, my Lady, and if he'd identified himself as Runnerspring's man from the outset, claiming extended noble privilege, I hate to think what kind of a mess we might be in between the demands of his putative master, the Army Council, and my Lord of Hollyrose." He sniffed eloquently. "I was doubtful when I heard what had happened, but your reports are clear and your reasoning sound. You might be interested to know one of my clerks found references to griffin-tested evidence in courts of the Thanic Empire, and Tortallan courts before the Human Era, so even that oddity has precedent."

Kel was interested, and Turomot taken by her connection of the army's need for griffin feathers and the griffins' conviction it was right to attend courts. In an odd way she thought he'd have been outraged at the idea of talking immortals interfering with procedure, but there was something in the nobility of griffins and silent enforcement of truth-telling without regard for rank that appealed. The issue led to truthspells and the change in loyalty oaths he was still considering; whether anything she could say would make legal wheels turn faster she doubted, but pitched her arguments for whatever they might be worth. His hands were heavily spotted and he was beginning to bend with age but he remained upright in duty, and she felt the admiration for him that had come to her on the night of her Ordeal, when he stayed in the freezing Chapel to guard against interference. They would never be friends in the way she'd found with other conservatives from Wyldon to Ennor, let alone share the camaraderie of Raoul, Alanna, and men like Imrah and Terres, but they parted on warmer terms than they'd met.

With Palace business concluded Kel gave a glaive class, pushing the best pages with new pattern dances. She spent a day with the children in the lower city, taking care of gifts and dropping by to see the bride. With her wedding dress and her groom's fine outfit complete Lalasa was less frantic, but there was much to do—weddings seemed to proliferate detail like weeds; even the army couldn't do better—and the arguments she and Kel might have had about who was paying for what had been settled in letters. Kel had made a point of not ordering work for herself or the children, and had her Mindelan kimonos for the wedding, but as Tobe and Irnai had grown Lalasa remeasured them against orders to be filled in the spring and sent north with Barin's next wagon train. Kel detained her friend sufficiently to give an account of the Lord Badger's appearance, producing exclamations, but besides the deaths of Merric and Rogal, hardly subjects to raise with an imminent bride, her year had been less eventful than the last. Lalasa had more to tell about the Protector's Maids but no time to do so, and Kel stopped her babble of worry by promising to make a round of the shops herself.

That took her and the children much of the next day, the last before the Council, and she ended it pleased on several accounts. All the shops were doing well, three more had opened, and several were employing women who had the necessary skills but not the ambition or more abstract talents to run a business. She placed orders where she could, for herself and New Hope, had conversations about problems there had—and in some ways more tellingly hadn't—been, and was introduced to their children and elder kin helping out in the busy Midwinter season. These were lifelong lower-city folk, with tightknit families and lives her own had never begun to resemble; but Tobe had known as bad, Irnai worse, and all refugees at New Hope a degree of personal disaster and loss next to which Mutt Piddle Lane might count itself secure. Just as importantly Kel's attitudes, though by now melded with exercise of authority, were infused with responsibilities of rank, not its privileges, and though she didn't understand how it worked from their point of view they talked to her, freely so far as she could tell, and it added up to growing mutual respect that boded well.

When she saw the goldsmith and discovered just how much the Maids' tithes had collectively amounted to she wanted to march out with bags of golden nobles and give them back, but contented herself with directing him to return a quarter of the most recent deposits by way of a Midwinter bonus. His tut-tutting at such generosity made her ensure no extra commission was taken from returned monies, but she mollified him by discussing the Guild's need for financial

representation in Corus. He agreed to consult Master Orman as fast as any banker ever moved, and she left him with good cheer restored, intending to visit Master Randall to tell him how his barding had performed, only to be greeted on Palace Way with an enthusiastic shout by a muddy Owen, just arrived from the north. After a bearhug she offered congratulations on his hard-won permission to court, which made him beam.

"You're cutting it very fine, Owen."

"I didn't mean to, Kel, but with no real end to the fighting season General Vanget didn't want anyone leaving before they had to. A lot of people are staying, you know. I would myself if it weren't for Iden's and Warric's Ordeals. Couldn't miss those."

Kel promised she wouldn't miss those dawns and walked up Palace Way hearing his account of an educational year.

"I expect it's old hat to you, Kel, but even after seeing all my Lord does as District Commander I'd no idea how much more General Vanget has to do, nor what it would be like to work so closely with a regular company. The inaction's been horrid, though it doesn't seem right to wish for raids when they hurt so many people, but sitting on the other side of the desk and making decisions myself, well, it's taught me a lot." He brightened. "My Lord agrees. The General let me use the spellmirror to speak to him as I couldn't go via Mastiff, and he said he hoped I could be broken to bridle in a few years. It was the best compliment."

Kel could hear Wyldon saying it and resolved to tease him when she could—but didn't disagree. Owen did need tempering, and responsibility for others with all its logistics and paperwork was no bad thing, but he was a fine man, not as uncomplicated as he could seem but direct and open, a wellspring of good cheer. She could see people looking at her and grinning as they heard his artless enthusiasm. By the time they reached the Palace Tobe and Irnai were astride Happy Two, and in payment took him to rub down while Owen trudged off to make himself presentable for his father. Kel had a nice talk with Stefan Groomsman, finding him interested in news of Alder's barding and unexpectedly well-informed about events at New Hope—the result, she decided, of conversations with Daine. It might have been casual talk—they dealt together over injured horses and the ponies brought from Galla each year for the Queen's Riders, and he asked after Peachblossom—but Kel thought it Daine's subtle promotion of living with immortals, particularly stormwings. She spoke of Amourta and the Stone Tree Nation's collective ability, when it chose, not to terrify and be reasonably clean.

Walking back Kel was possessed by a feeling of absurdity, arising, she worked out, from the sheer disjunction of what had become her daily normality at New Hope and attitudes only beginning to change in Corus. The capital had always been the hub of Tortall—for all the conservatism that afflicted her page years, the biggest, most various city she'd ever seen, heart of the realm and dwelling of the King; but now seemed behind the pace of change being midwived in the northern war, suspicious of innovation in the way it scornfully ascribed to backwater provinces. Instinctively and by long training a loyalist, she'd learned to think herself a reformer but not before now a radical, let alone a revolutionary; yet that was in part how her Maids and Stefan saw her, and it struck a chord with something she'd seen in the eyes of Uinse and his lads, in Reben Carpenter and other men of New Hope Second. When she tried to explain what was preoccupying her Tobe just smiled.

"Of course you make everyone change, Ma. You changed everything for me, and Irnai, and everyone at New Hope. Why shouldn't you change everything here too, if that's what's needed?"

She had no answer that didn't sound like adult nonsense but after she'd helped them to bed and climbed into her own she lay awake a long time, reconciling this perspective with her new

understanding of herself and her various responsibilities. Some things fitted nicely, like the Craftsbeings' Guild and the effect it and the Protector's Maids would have on the attitudes of men like the goldsmith—not a bad man, nor lazy, but as rigidly conservative in his own field as ever Stone Mountain had been, and without realising it nearly as contemptuous of those he thought beneath him. Changed feelings towards immortals who'd always been enemies, or reviled as stormwings were, were fine by her, and she'd always known that meant a revolution in attitudes that could only be led by very different experiences. But there were things that didn't fit easily, or at all, and as she tried to line them up in her mind she realised they centred on the north—the poorer, colder, wilder half of Tortall where what were by Corus standards poverty and simplicity counted as a good, hard -working life, and where Scanra with its recurrent instability loomed along a thousand-mile border. Her last image, carried into dreams, was of a Scanran—like Stanar but actually Freja Haraldsdottir's son—standing astride the Vassa, as Lord Gainel was shown standing with one foot in order and the other in chaos, holding out a sword and a stone as if she were supposed to choose between them.

Kel found taking her seat on the Council deeply odd. Her memory of walking in to the room to face them all was sharp, and however much sense it made not to sit beside her father but in Wyldon's place, flanked by Padraig and Imrah, opposite Runnerspring, she felt disconcerted and nervously made sure her stack of papers hadn't mysteriously become disorganised. Whether she'd need the records of enquiry or court martial she was unsure, but wouldn't be found wanting. Stone Mountain, surprisingly, was absent, having been little seen at Court all year, and according to Padraig remained so deeply affected by what he'd learned from the elemental he might be called a changed man; Kel hoped so. Torhelm was gone, of course, though his shadow could be felt; Ennor was between her father and Disart; Daine was absent because Sarralyn was teething, and Numair held her proxy, Harailt beside him. Otherwise attendance and seating were the same, and Runnerspring and Macayhill the only people on their side of the square.

Lord Carolan's scowl and shimmering tenseness were not good signs, and Kel's heart sank as the meeting got under way with the King's review of Tortall's neighbours, omitting only Scanra, and some Port Legann issues to which Imrah spoke. Runnerspring's tension seemed to her that of nervousness concealed; it took her a while to identify because she was more used to seeing it coupled with bravado, in soldiers before combat, but once she put a name to it she became increasingly sure she was right and couldn't work out what he could be nervous about. At last they came to the heading Complaint on the agenda.

"Lord Carolan, you registered the complaint. Will you speak to it?"

"Is there any point?" Runnerspring's voice was nasal, another sign of tension. "You are aware of my concerns, sire, and seem to care nothing for noble privilege. Rogal was my man and any punishment mine to enforce, or not, as I chose."

Seeing Alanna draw indignant breath Kel held up a hand. "Sire, as Lord Carolan's complaint concerns me, may I address it?"

"Please do, Lady Keladry."

"Lord Carolan, let me first say I regret the entire business, but I must insist that includes Sir Merric as well as Captain Rogal. Any determination here must consider more than one set of privileges. You have lost a liegeman, my Lord and Lady of Hollyrose a son, the army a captain,

and the realm a knight. And if you have had to deal with Captain Rogal's kin, I have had to deal with Sir Merric's."

Reluctantly he nodded. "I concede that."

"Thank you. May I ask if your complaint concerns only noble privilege? Put another way, my Lord, given the records of the enquiry that led me to prefer capital charges and the court martial that passed sentence, do you accept Captain Rogal's execution was legal?"

He didn't like that either but again nodded. "Yes. It is privilege not law that is at issue."

"Thank you again. That does mean, however, that Captain Rogal's punishment was not yours to enforce or set aside. I concede I did not observe usual courtesies. I regret it, but submit, first, that as things stood you could only request Captain Rogal's pardon, and I knew I would refuse for the same reasons I would not pardon him, nor my Lord of Cavall, General Vanget, or His Majesty; and second, that neither time nor circumstance allowed me leisure to defer sentence for the months it would have taken to go through empty ritual. In peacetime I might have done. In wartime, with three companies to cover patrolling, field security, and fixed defences, and having just suffered the most substantial attack this year, I could not spare a squad as prison guards. Nor, frankly, did I want a condemned man pointlessly reprieved for a few months to compromise hard-won morale in a front-line refugee camp. So I abrogated a loop of courtesy and would do so again. I cannot apologise for my actions, but I am prepared to apologise for having infringed the shadow of your privilege."

She'd been watching his face carefully, seeing his mouth tighten at 'the shadow of privilege', so she was taken aback when, narrowing his eyes, he abruptly nodded a third time.

"I accept your apology. The matter is closed." As breaths were released he turned to the King, and through her surprise Kel realised he'd just made it very hard to ask him why Rogal had been at Tirrsmont. "And yet, sire, my larger concern remains. New Hope didn't exist two years ago and now recurs frequently in our concerns—military and civil. The Lady Knight calls it a front-line refugee camp, which points its absurdity. You call it the best fortification between Northwatch and Frasrlund and say you saw it in the Chamber of the Ordeal. And whatever this folderol about making no decision until we have peace, it's plain it must become a fief and will go to the Lady Knight—already a second Mindelan seat on this Council."

"And your point, my Lord?" The King's voice was studiously neutral.

"How are we supposed to make a proper decision about something so strange we've never seen?" He turned to Kel, voice high with the effort of speaking courteously. "Perhaps you will tell me, Lady Knight, if you do indeed intend to apply for the grant of New Hope as your fief."

She blew out a breath. "If I live to do so, my Lord. I would point out that eight people present have seen New Hope, as well as my Lord of Cavall, and His Majesty in the elemental's vision."

"Even so, Lady Knight." The vocative wasn't quite a sneer. "We should not be deciding something so important blindly, nor on anyone's mere report. Perhaps New Hope is all it's said to be—I don't say it isn't, only that I cannot know. Nor can most of us. Do you not agree we should see the place for ourselves, Macayhill? Nond? Disart?" They didn't disagree. "What about you, Frasrlund? It's closest to you."

Ennor shrugged. "I'm looking forward to seeing it, Runnerspring, but don't doubt what Vanget, Cavall, and the Lioness tell me. Don't see why you should either."

"I'm not saying I do. Only that we should see." Kel's gaze met the King's and he shrugged minutely.

"Lord Carolan, if you wish to visit—if any member of the Council wishes to visit—you need only let me know when to expect you."

"So I should hope. But piecemeal's no good—I'm saying we should inspect it properly. A potential fief's supposed to be looked at, isn't it, Turomot? Not just for defence, either. Where are its boundaries? And can a refugee camp really be a viable fief? There's a lot of questions."

Duke Gareth stirred. "You want the Council to go to New Hope?"

"I think we should, yes."

"When do you propose we do this, my Lord?" The King was neutral.

"Imbolc session's for land grants—always has been—and the winter's so mild we should get it done."

Gareth stirred. "Lady Keladry has as yet made no application."

"But she will—she says so, as if it was in doubt. It needs to be done. If she was willing to waive a courtesy where Rogal was concerned she can hardly be bothered waiving this, and we should get on with it while opportunity offers."

It was stupid but not illogical, the thrust about not waiting on her formal application shrewd, and while Kel was coldly certain Runnerspring had other reasons for wanting the Council at New Hope they would have to involve full-blown treason. And she couldn't raise that spectre in this way, with only dark speculation to offer. But still …

"Sire, any member of the Council is welcome, but New Hope is on the front line, and this mild winter allows Maggur as much movement as it allows us. It cannot be sensible for the whole Council to put itself at risk. I believe my Lord of Goldenlake would say so too."

"And Cavall and Vanget." Alanna was trying to keep her voice level, though she looked as suspicious as Kel felt.

Runnerspring shrugged nervously but stuck to his argument. "Yet you say the place is next to impregnable, Pirate's Swoop. Either it is or it isn't, and if it is, what is the problem with an inspection mandated by long tradition and common sense? What, it's safe enough for the Crown Prince and Princess to visit twice, and you to drop in, Haryse, for nothing more than a nameday, but not for Disart or Blue Harbour or me on much more serious business?"

"I don't think that's the issue, my Lord." The King was frowning. "But the claim of precedent is right, isn't it, Your Grace?"

Turomot nodded, impassive. "As you know, sire, there has not been a new fief for many years, since your father's time, but Lord Carolan is correct that when Irismere was inscribed in the Book of Copper the Imbolc session of this Council was held there. Without checking I cannot say how any inspection was conducted, nor how old the tradition might be, but it is implicit that the new fief was thereby known in person to all councillors."

"You see?" Runnerspring nodded to himself. "Makes good sense."

And if other things were equal it would—but with Maggur still in possession of an army,

and in the shadow of Genlith's probable treason, they weren't. Padraig coughed.

"I couldn't go, my Lord. To be absent from my duties in the months before the final examinations for the pages would be derelict."

"Fair enough. But Lord haMinch could hold your proxy for once, if he can be bothered to come, and the rest of us could go, yes? Goldenlake, Cavall, and Vanget are already all but there."

The King frowned. "Thayet and I could hardly be away together." "Why not, sire? You were for two years during the Progress." "We were not then at war, my Lord." The King's voice was dry.

"We were latterly, sire. When we urged your return to Corus, or Her Majesty's at least, you said appearances mattered and the Progress went on, for all it turned south. Is this less important?"

It was a neat skewer but the King shrugged. "Different circumstances, my Lord. If we do as you suggest, Thayet would stay. Roald and Shinko also, I think, and Duke Gareth."

"As you will, sire. But you will come with the rest of us?"

The absence of the other royals and Gareth didn't seem to bother Runnerspring any more than Padraig's—it was the King and as many of the rest as possible he seemed to want, including all the major northern lords and commanders, and Kel's suspicion of treason matured into grim certainty: which gave her no more evidence. She couldn't see Sir Myles's face but would bet he wasn't any happier than she or Alanna, but the others seemed to be weighing only the inconvenience of a winter journey against precedent and were inclined to acquiesce. They'd expected unpleasantness over Rogal, and Runnerspring had been gracious; if he felt touchy about a tradition that ought to be observed, wartime or no, that was only right. Besides, to those who hadn't actually been fighting, or had no military understanding, the threat seemed distant, and had done since the destruction of the killing devices—the border had been quiet since, and the biggest attack, aimed squarely at New Hope, had resulted in a slaughter.

Kel felt them tip into acquiescence and saw the King shrug; the Imbolc session would be held at New Hope. Badly distracted, she kept her head down for the rest of the agenda though the issue of whether royal marriages should in principle be sought with any of Galla, Tusaine, and Tyra was interesting, and her father and Sir Myles made points she'd never have thought of. The issue of intercepted food supplies to Scanra came up in relation to assistance Galla had given, but without evidence the King was no more prepared to raise any question of wilful treason than Kel. Imrah, Haryse, and Alanna made scathing remarks about how careless Genlith had been and the probable cost in Tortallan lives, resulting in a discussion that eventually agreed more stringent control of exports in wartime. Kel thought cynically the agreement had more to do with the fact that most fiefs would hardly notice, not being significant exporters, and the terms targeted Genlith neatly, but Imrah, Blue Harbour, her father, and Ennor, who as lords of harbour fiefs would need additional bureaucracy, were all proponents.

There was also a distinctly uncomfortable but mercifully brief discussion of Torhelm, who after tomorrow might be expected to be able to speak. Without looking at her the King declared Lord Angors would be questioned by Duke Turomot under truthspell, to determine if he had given or known of orders to attempt the assassination of a noble; what happened would depend on his answer but Turomot noted in a deadly dry voice that Sir Guisant, who should have answered a royal summons and been available to lead the fief of which he was heir, was fugitive; that there had been significant fraud against the crown and a slew of issues into which investigations were

proceeding; and that even if Torhelm had no knowledge of the assassin he had questions to answer. Kel would have expected Runnerspring to be vociferous in defence of his friend, but with his plan adopted seemed indifferent to other business and once the agenda was done was first to leave.

Most people stood with him, but Kel had caught some eyes, and in the chatter as councillors headed out made quick requests. A while after they'd broken up a smaller group reassembled—the royals, Baird, Alanna, Imrah, Numair, Harailt, Sir Myles, Terres, her father, and herself. Reseating himself, the King raised eyebrows.

"There was something you wanted to say privately, Lady Keladry?"

"Two things now, sire—one about your coming to New Hope, and a separate matter on which I wanted formal advice."

"What about me coming to New Hope?"

"Sire, whatever any of us may suspect, or not, from the point of view of your security and the realm's the only sensible assumption we can make is that there will be an attack while you are there."

"That would mean Lord Carolan was in collusion with Maggur." The King's voice was mild, and Kel matched it.

"Yes, it would."

"And would have to contact him. Sir Myles is watching closely."

The old man sighed. "I am, sire—but as I've told you, while I doubt he could get a pigeon through, I can't watch for contact by magefire made outside the Palace. If Runnerspring is so minded word of this could get to Hamrkeng within a few days, and me none the wiser."

Kel waved away uncertainty. "The point, sire, is that if there's no treason, and this is just a traditionalist bee in Runnerspring's bonnet, no harm done. But if he is colluding with Scanra, and Maggur does learn that you and a host of targets are going to be within twenty miles of the Vassa in a fort with less than four hundred soldiers, only two hundred of them regulars, against which he might throw a force of thousands …"

"It is a very tenuous speculation, Lady Keladry."

Why did Thayet and Roald have nothing to say? "The results wouldn't be tenuous, sire. And I'll swear Runnerspring relaxed once he secured agreement. He was nervous as a cat before, but after you said yes, we'll come to New Hope, he didn't care what happened. He accepts my apology? I didn't make one. We never got to ask what Rogal was doing at Tirrsmont. And not a peep about Torhelm subjected to truthspell?"

"Yes, I noticed all that." Alanna was troubled. "I don't like it, Jon, and Kel's right about what we have to assume."

"Then let's assume it. Genlith, Runnerspring and maybe others do want to use Maggur to oust me. He does or will know we'll be there. And he sends his army. Don't we want him to stick his neck out?"

"Only if we can cut his head off."

"Which if New Hope holds for two or three days—and I'm willing to bet it can hold a lot

longer than that—Vanget can do."

Kel shook her head. "Maggur could have ten thousand men, depending on how many conscripts he can raise. Not less than seven or eight, and we need to be pessimistic. He could send a thousand men against each of Steadfast, Mastiff, Giantkiller, and Northwatch to tie them down, and another six straight at New Hope. We can make any assault very expensive, but if he's willing to spend lives he can draw our teeth and we'd be down to not enough defenders."

"And your immortals, Lady Keladry. And Numair. And me, with the Dominion Jewel. And five thousand men, from haMinch lands and the eastern borders, who will be heading north and east at the right time."

Wheels span in Kel's head and she stared; so did Alanna and most others, though not Sir Myles, Thayet, Roald, or Shinko.

"You do think Runnerspring a traitor, then."

It wasn't a question but he nodded. "I strongly suspect it. There are too many straws in the wind. I'm sure Genlith hired his son's escape, and equally sure he knew where that food was going. Vinson turns up dead at New Hope, and Sir Garvey's vanished, as well as Sir Guisant and that steward. Others too. Something's up and I want it exposed fast—not a treason trial a year for gods know how long. And if we can take Maggur at the same time so much the better, though sending him scampering with heavy casualties would probably see him done."

Kel's voice was flat. "So you're the bait and I'm the sweetener."

He winced but didn't disagree. "More or less. Or you could say your strength at New Hope has built one jaw of the trap."

Kel didn't know what she thought, but though instinct cried out against this whole plan she could see others thinking hard before Numair asked two of the questions crowding her mind.

"Jon, I've been in sieges and I don't like them at all. If you did have to use the Dominion Jewel you'd have to draw on a lot of energy. It might not mean another famine but it wouldn't be good."

"If I have to use the Jewel, Numair, I will, to end this war."

"If you can. Are you figuring the gods into this?"

Even as he asked it Kel could see the King's answer coming.

"They insist something final will happen at New Hope. I'm just co-operating. This war has to end, and as we can't go after Maggur he has to come after us. So we need to offer him a target."

Kel looked at Thayet and Roald, and knew it was pointless to argue: the risk had been agreed, so the King had known what Runnerspring would ask, which meant Sir Myles must know more than he was saying even if nothing could be proven. Duke Gareth too. She might have admired the boldness if it didn't also mean she and New Hope were being left out in harm's way again, in full expectation it would once more come calling. You could see it as a vote of confidence, she supposed. You could also see it as more of the same from a king who still didn't know what fairness meant and thought risking himself made it acceptable to sacrifice others. From her father's face his mind was travelling with the same distaste towards the same anger, but before he could protest she squared her shoulders and pinned the King with a gaze far colder than she realised, feeling nothing as she saw him recoil.

"Very well, sire. You may or may not be playing a fool's game with all our lives and the realm. We'll see. You have certainly ignored the one request I made of you last Midwinter, when you last cast me as your goat without warning." She saw him wince but still felt nothing. "I will of necessity be heading north as soon as I have fulfilled my obligations here and New Hope will be ready. What happens must wait upon the gods, whose priorities are not the same as yours or mine, and even they hesitate to try to nudge the timeway you propose to coerce." Her tone had everyone looking uncomfortable. So they should. "The matter on which I wanted advice is different. You recognised me as Protector of the Small. What rights, duties, and privileges does this confer? And does the Protector have the right openly to visit the Rogue of Corus?"

She saw surprise on everyone's faces except Alanna's and her father's, and the King's reply was very cautious.

"Um, why should the Protector want to do that, Lady Keladry?"

"The Protector has a dozen Maids running shops in Corus entwined with the women's self-defence classes he supports. As a representative of the Craftsbeings' Guild she has icelights to offer the Wardsmen of the Lower City, a matter of concern to him. At New Hope two of her four companies consist of men among whom he has wide acquaintance. And in two days' time she's going to be escorting Her Majesty and Her Highness to a reception in Jane Street."

"Ah. Yes. Those are … interesting points. Sir Myles has always had responsibility for this sort of thing. Or rather, his deputy has."

Sir Myles smiled cheerfully. "I have no objection to the Protector meeting the Rogue. Her concerns are valid, courtesy pays dividends, and I will be interested in what she has to report. So will my deputy."

"Ah."

Alanna grinned sourly and clapped Kel on the shoulder. "That's the best yes you'll get, Kel. Time for us to talk to George. And she's got a point, Jon—if you're going to sling titles about you should think through what they mean. I told you that a year ago and you've done nothing. She also has a very good point about goats and this Lioness doesn't much care for it. Abusing the trust of someone every god there is seems to be watching is stupid, however you persuaded yourself it was a good idea, but I'll shout at you in private. And about cutting me out of what has to have been an army decision, even if I was on the road when it was taken." She shook her head. "You'd best bring several extra healers with you, Baird. Or several dozen. Neal can't run a siege infirmary alone."

The meeting with George provided a seething Kel with a file on the Rogue she wasn't allowed to take away. Jerrold Tinker had been born in the depths of the lower city, orphaned young, and started work before he'd been Tobe's age as a drayman's boy. He'd spent time on crews that cleaned the night-market, hauled himself up as an errand-boy for the previous Rogue, and become one of the man's rushers, which had worked well for him until it hadn't. That tale interested Kel because it revolved around a woman, but not a lover—Tinker's half-sister had refused the advances of a senior rusher sufficiently vigorously to leave him scarred, and the Rogue had decided punishment warranted. Tinker objected, to the Rogue's displeasure, and what sounded like one ruthless manoeuvre later his views prevailed; he who kills the Rogue becomes the Rogue,

so that was that. Quite a few people hadn't thought him up to the job, but he consolidated authority efficiently, and was so far as the file knew presently unchallenged in Corus and Port Caynn, which (George told her) sometimes had its own Rogue but stronger Rogues of Corus tended to annex. Subsequently the file blandly narrated thieves' business as usual, traditionally conducted, with a willingness to pass on and sometimes seek out information of interest to the realm; the sole oddity was an unusually harsh policy concerning men who attacked women, limited to overt cases until Lalasa's classes tipped it into an open rule. At this point the file proliferated with cross-references to Lalasa's history and mentions of Kel, though the several hands notably became dryly cautious in speculation. Half-amused over her underlying worry and anger Kel quirked eyebrows at George, provoking his rumbling laugh.

"First time you've seen such a file? Won't be the last, I warrant, and a surprising' number of 'em seem to have your name in these days." He laughed at her indignation. "If you will go stirrin' up kingdoms you must expect to get splashed."

Her protests that she wasn't doing any such thing sounded thin even to her, and though she needed to understand more clearly where such files came from Kel wasn't sorry to slide conversation back to Jerrold Tinker. George, however, said less than she'd expected.

"He's his own man, Kel, none of mine for all we're friends. He'd not thank presumption and as you're a natural diplomat when you're not a living terror I imagine you'll get along just fine. You stand your ground, he'll stand his, and you can have a nice chat about things in the middle. How were you proposing to contact him?"

"Um, I was going to go to the Dancing Dove tomorrow."

"Fair enough, but send a note to the barkeep today to say you'll be dropping in. Surprises as big as you don't go down so well at the Dove."

"Tell me about it."

"Eh? Ah yes, Jon's little brainstorm. Don't ask me—havin' been away I don't know what Myles may have turned up, or why Jon's decided this is the way to go."

Alanna shook her head grumpily. "Myles doesn't have proof, only what he calls a haystack in the wind. Jon wants to be doing, George."

"Does he, lass? Well, he always had an impatient streak."

"He calls it boldness. And to be fair being faced with the possibility of such widespread treason is making him very unhappy. Genlith, Runnerspring, and Torhelm have never liked him any more than Stone Mountain does—they all wanted Roger and Josiane, the fools—but they've never seemed disloyal this way and with Shinko and her uncle looking over his shoulder he's not willing to play a waiting game any more. And the war has been dragging—I was as sure as Vanget Maggur had to come this year." She shook her head again. "Gods only know what'll happen. But tell Kel what you've been up to."

"Mmm. I think I'll be leavin' names out, Kel—no offence. But the long and short is that Aly disappeared on us because she managed to get herself sold in Rajmuat—to a noble family who are very interestin' in all sorts of ways. And it wasn't her fault, nor yet coincidence, because the Crooked God is in it up to his lyin' neck, curse him. He laid her a wager."

Kel couldn't help a dark laugh. "The gods are betting on us?"

"Not on us, Kel, though I suppose they might be doin' that too. With us. And he is the god

of gamblers, as of thieves, the poxy old cheat. Aly had to use skills she's picked up to keep some people alive this summer, which she did, so he owes her a boon, much good may it do her. But his real bet was she'd get hooked, and she has, so she's stayin' to help her new friends with a trick His festerin' Godliness has planned."

Entertained despite herself by George's colourful disparagement of his divine patron, which she thought probably well deserved, Kel's mind clicked. "The Kyprish Prophecy. Time for a raka queen. The tricksters all like it but there are gods who won't, which is why your prayers to the Goddess were blocked. And Shakith is helping keep possibilities open."

George looked at her admiringly. "Well now, you did that on very few clues. The lass said you'd acquired an interestin' angle on gods. I don't know if you're right but I expect the Rittevons to have a very interestin' year. Those that are left—they've been droppin' like flies."

"A terminally interesting year?"

"Maybe." He waggled a hand. "If the raka are as strong as I think, and have the mages, and play it right, I think they've a chance. And having Aly helpin' doesn't hurt—she's a good girl and listened to what Myles and I told her down the years." Alanna snorted and George smiled easily. "It's what she was born for, lass, as you were born to be a Lioness. We've just to live with it. And professionally speakin', I have to say the Rittevons are ripe. Their security's got holes a mile wide, and if Dunevon's sentimentally loved Imajane isn't at all. Rubinyan's not hated the same but will be if he doesn't control her, which I'm not sure he can. She'll try harshness and more harshness before she tries anythin' else, but I'd reckon they're close to the end of that road and if any major luarin nobles turn against them, well, it won't be pretty."

"It isn't now. Nor Maggur's Scanra." Kel was thinking hard. "Alanna, do you remember —no, you weren't there, it was Shinko and my parents. Patterns and echoes, you and me, the Copper Isles and Scanra—two unstable thrones, two recurrent problems, two prophecies, and gods hip deep in both. So. Let's say Blayce's necromancy annoyed the gods enough they focused on why it happened, and beyond stopping it saw this roil in the timeway as a chance to get something done. And the Crooked God and pals have cooked up a side-project to do as much for the Copper Isles. They've been bubbling and now they're coming to a boil. Which means we have to be coming close to the roil, and things are going to break." She looked at Alanna. "What odds on a February siege now?"

"Shortening."

"And we both know however the gods might help they like sweat. They don't give useless gifts either so the Black God gave me that absolution because he knows I'll need it and that means Maggur'll come in force." She stared into space while Alanna and George watched, faces tight.

"If you can't persuade the King to stay away, Alanna, for the Goddess's sake get him to bring troops with him. We need them inside, not hoping to reach us in time. Besides whatever mages and immortals Maggur has our great weakness is sheer numbers. If I put every soldier I've got on the outer alures I've only two or three per crenel. Add every civilian and once the passive defences are used we're too thin to hold against multiple escalade. And if the gate's mageblasted open …"

"Jon'll be stubborn. He's in a frame of mind where opposition just puts his back up."

"Go through Thayet, then, and I'll go through Roald and Shinko—they've been there and Roald knows first-hand just how long the alures are. Let His Majesty deal with an inflexibly polite Yamani demand that an esteemed father-in-law not idiotically endanger his esteemed head." George guffawed, but it wasn't funny. "Am I right Wyldon, Raoul, and Vanget will all be coming?"

Alanna shrugged. "They're supposed to."

"Then they come heavily escorted. A company apiece. You too. And maybe Ennor, Terres, Imrah, even Nond and Blue Harbour could be

persuaded to bring escorts—every squad will help. I'm loath to ask my brothers to spare men when wolfships could show up, but it wouldn't be unreasonable for Papa to have two squads." She rubbed her eyes, which felt hot and gritty. "I don't need field forces, just men who can stand their ground and shoot fast and accurately, with as many full quivers as they can possibly bring." She began to count on her fingers. "Food we can do, just, thought companies should bring field rations." A second finger extended. "But they'll be sleeping rough in the caves so they need bedrolls. If they get to sleep at all." A third finger. "And we can't stable four hundred horses, so foot companies. Swords, short spears, and bows. Slings if they have them." She ran out of fingers and spread both hands. "Company mages, healers, fletchers. You know what'll be needed."

"Whoa, Kel." George was half-smiling. "That's a lot of men you're shiftin' about. Jon'll have his own in motion. You don't want to interfere."

She blew out a breath. "George, I've got four-and-a-half thousand feet of alure, and three-hundred-and-fifty soldiers. Half of them convicts with less than two years' training and no experience of anything like this. Maggur could bring ten thousand. Do the maths."

Alanna nodded heavily. "She's right, George. I've told Jon but he's dazzled by Kel's fixed defences, and can't get his head round the idea anyone could reckon to lose two, three thousand men and keep coming. But Maggur's got to be desperate, the men holding him on his throne have nowhere to go, and he has coerced forces to draw our teeth. If any traps were magically compromised we'd be in trouble. I'll talk to Vanget."

"Privately." Kel met Alanna's eyes. "Two can play surprise the goat."

She snorted but her eyes weren't amused. "True. Are you alright with that, Kel? It's the oddest thing about this—he could perfectly well have told us. I don't know if it's habit or if he's slapping at us somehow, but it's stupid all the same."

Kel stood, banking rage. "No, I'm not alright with it, Alanna. I think it's going to kill a lot of my people, and there's nothing I can do to stop it." She managed a crooked smile. "But the last time I felt like this I headed for the Vassa alone, and that seems to have worked out. And everybody's told me to keep on doing what I do. So I will. We can reckon it up afterwards, if we win. And if we don't, we'll be past caring."

"So we will." Alanna slung an arm round Kel's waist. "D'you want to talk to Vanget

too?"

"No, you lay it out. I'm going to see if Shakith's listening to Irnai, then I've to see Shinko and Roald, and a message to deliver."

George shook his head. "Calm down first, Kel. You don't want to be bendin' ears or goin' down the Dove in a mood like this."

Seamlessly, her Yamani mask slipped into place and her body posture changed as rage was contained, burning the brighter for its confinement. Relaxing, she laid hands on thighs and made a bow, exact in depth and flourish, noble to senior noble, straightening with fluid ease.

"Better, Pirate's Swoop-sensei? Good. Time's wasting."

Alanna cackled and they left George staring, but Kel had no room for amusement and the

future suddenly seemed stark. George was right it wasn't the time to lose her temper, however it fuelled her, and as she parted from Alanna and headed for her rooms she forced herself into the breathing rhythm of a pattern dance. She couldn't leave Corus before Longnight, and Lalasa's wedding would be no better served by rage than her meeting with Jerrold Tinker. She thought she'd managed to enforce inner calm by the time she entered to find Tobe and Irnai talking to a bouncing Kitten but as soon as they saw her they focused on her completely with the question plain in their faces, and she pulled up a chair. Priorities rolled in her mind.

"Irnai, has Shakith said anything to you lately?"

"No. Kitten doesn't know if her grandsire is coming and I tried to find out. But that might be because he's a dragon, I suppose."

"It's alright, sweeting. I didn't expect it. But things are happening. We'll be leaving right after Longnight. Unless you'd rather stay here for a while—Adie and Orie will be in town and you could stay with them."

Tobe wasn't fooled for a moment. "Is it the battle, Ma?"

"I think so. And I think it'll be bad. It would be good to know you were both safe."

He looked mulish. "Tough, Ma. I'm not leaving you."

"And the god has not told me to run and hide." That Irnai could be stubborn Kel knew all too well. "I would rather be with those I know."

However foolishly she wanted them there too, and hugged them both as Kitten chirped distressed enquiry.

What is happening, Kel? Why are you upset?

"The King's being an idiot, Kitten. Your Da will tell you more—he's going to be travelling north soon too, and maybe your Ma. Meantime, if Lord Diamondflame does come please tell him I'd like to talk to him."

Of course. He will want to talk to you about the skullroad. But I do not know if he will come. Last year he made sure I knew he would. This year he has not. I do not know why.

The dragonet sounded wistful, and Kel withdrew her hand from Tobe to caress Kit's head. "Well, if he does." Thoughts collided and swallowing guilt she looked at her unlikely friend with a speculative glint. "Now, I've got to see Roald and Shinko. They'll be preparing for the Queen's Ball. If you come—and you two—you have to keep silent about what you learn, but you'll find out what's happening and can speak on others' behalf—for children at New Hope, Scanrans, and immortals, because they're going to be in as much danger as everyone else."

After that wild horses wouldn't have stopped them, and the cynical part of Kel's mind thought they worked on Roald and Shinko exactly as intended. Neither was happy and Roald repeatedly apologised for what he called the position she'd been put in, but they'd clearly been bullied into agreement and she didn't waste time with recriminations but equally didn't pull punches about what was being risked beyond His Majesty's person—including Yuki, Maggur's former liegefolk to whom protection had been promised, and the immortal experiment. Tobe and Irnai didn't have to say anything, and Kitten managed to confine herself to emphatic observation that if basilisks died dragons would not be happy, using a mindvoice everyone heard and letting a curl of flame escape her paws; Kel was sure that was calculated and found she approved. Roald still had to deal with his father and was unhappily dithering when Kel suggested he support

Shinko, and at her surprised look mentioned one of her great-aunts who had famously once bent the emperor to her will through a combination of extreme politeness and unreasonable immobility. Cricket's eyes lit up in a Crown Princess's face.

Kel didn't let success go to her head, and left the children and Kitten behind when she rode to the lower city to leave a message for the Rogue. She'd changed into a plain tunic—she wasn't going as her father's daughter—but was bothered if she was going to sneak; she'd told everyone with a right to know what she was doing, and secrecy wasn't the point. The Protector needed to talk to the Rogue and if the King didn't like it he could lump it.

She had known of the Dancing Dove since her first page year when she'd heard Stefan mention it, and Neal had told her a fanciful story about how it was supposed to have become the Court of the Rogue two centuries back. She had assumed it a tall tale, but seeing the place wondered. It was an old, rambling inn in Nipcopper Close that looked to have been converted from houses and had certainly been repeatedly altered and redecorated. Its outside was a patchwork of cheerful if faded colour and a choice of doorways, but over one hung the sign, a well-tended image of a beautiful woman, dressed like a player with hands above head and a swirling skirt—a Rogue's mother, in Neal's version. Kel dismounted, and as there wasn't anything resembling a hitching post asked Alder to wait. She spotted an urchin boy along the way, betrayed from stillness by his interest in the horse. She flipped a copper at him and saw him catch it before coming uncertainly forward.

"Lady?"

"Watch my horse? I'll only be a minute and there's another copper in it for you when I come out."

"I can do that, lady, but that's a fine horse. There'll be folk who'd like him I can't stop."

"Oh, you don't have to guard him. He'll guard himself. But he can't speak so you warn anyone who'd like him on his behalf, eh?" She knew other ears would hear, as they would if she was speaking to one soldier on the alure. "Then I'll not be liable for missing fingers or broken feet."

Alder obliged her by clashing teeth. Smiling she left him and the boy to introduce themselves and pushed open the door, finding herself in a spacious room knocked together from smaller ones. A tall, bearded man was serving, a dozen men and half as many women at tables in small groups. From the drawing in the file she was fairly sure Jerrold Tinker was in the largest group, near a fire, and there was a pattern in the way others sat, leaving him space, but though serendipity called on his turf it was his call. She walked to the bar.

"Good evening. I'm sorry to intrude without an introduction but there's folk you likely know who'd vouch for me. I wondered if I might leave this for His Majesty." She offered a sealed note.

"Seems you've the wrong place, lady. You wants the Palace."

"Wrong majesty." She laid a silver bit on the counter. "For your trouble. Just see it delivered please, today. I won't say there can't be harm in words but there's none in these."

He nodded and no-one said anything so she turned and left, carefully shutting the door. A number of young men were in a circle around Alder and the boy was to his credit earnestly telling them they didn't want to mess with this horse or its rider, but when they saw her their eyes lit up and one took a half-step forward.

"That's a lot of horse for a woman."

She considered him calmly. "No. I'm a lot of woman for one horse, but Alder does nicely. He's used to barding and Scanran archers, so right now he's feeling light as a feather and not very threatened. He has a nice line in high kicks, though. Show them, Alder, not hurting anyone?"

He blinked a liquid eye that might have been amused or mildly offended and reared, lashing a forehoof that touched nothing and had her interlocutor flailing backwards, white terror on his face.

"Told you." She swung into the saddle and made sure the bit she flipped to the boy was silver. "Thank you for an honest job—it pays better than hankering after a warhorse who's killed men." She fixed the young men with a gaze that became commander cold. "And there's authorities closer than me who don't much care for young men who think it's fine to try to hassle a woman on her own. If you'd asked politely to be introduced I'd have done so cheerfully—Alder likes meeting people. Instead you get a lesson in manners, so when you rise tomorrow try turning your brain on instead of just your teeth, eh?"

She heard laughter somewhere as she asked Alder to walk on, but no-one called her back and she rode to the Palace wondering if she'd struck the right note. It would have worked with soldiers and George had said she should stand her ground; presumably, for when she returned next morning the boy was waiting with a smile and Jerrold Tinker alone at a table, a pot of tea and two cups before him. Even the barkeep was absent, and though Kel didn't doubt there were people nearby she appreciated the trust offered.

"Your Majesty."

"Protector." He wasn't handsome, face battered and teeth crooked in a wide mouth, but his smile was easy. "Have a cup of tea." He poured it—not Yamani tea but a rougher brew from the wild plant—and she thanked him. "You're welcome. It's nice to put a face to a name. I hope Jacut passed on my respects? I hadn't expected to be hearing from him anytime soon until I read that report of yours, and when he came by to ask if he could use the Dove as a meeting-point for his lads he had interesting things to say about you and New Hope. Loyal ones."

"He did, thank you. And yes, he's a New Hope man now. They all are. Which isn't to say old, well-behaved friends won't be welcome when peace allows." She smiled. "But that's down the road. What isn't is that tomorrow Lalasa Isran is getting married and she's going to have some distinguished guests, Your Majesty."

"And they don't call you the Protector for nothing." He grinned charmingly. "Aren't titles useful things?"

"Very. Shall we dispense with them?"

He laughed. "Yes, of course. I'm Jer to my friends."

"Kel."

"No lady?"

She spoke carefully. "Lady Kel is what my people call me—the mortals, anyway—and you're not one of those."

He cocked his head. "You call those immortals your people too?"

"Oh yes. My name on the treaties, my duty in their care and defence. We're all New

Hopers."

"And what new hope will it be?"

She shrugged. "If we lose the battle that's coming, none. But if we win—well, that'll be ours to bargain for, won't it? If I'm alive I'll be carrying on as I have been. And if Jacut's alive he'll be a senior officer in a new fief with a very interesting guild. But first things first, please. How many guards do I need to bring Lalasa's guests to Jane Street?"

"You don't need any. An honour guard is no problem."

"His other Majesty may insist on more. He's got a lot on his plate just now and he does love his wife and daughter-in-law."

He smiled at her way of distinguishing the King. "Fair enough, but the fewer the merrier. I'm loyal enough, as things go, and nothing touches Miss Isran in my town."

"Now there we're agreed." Kel sat back. "I appreciate your support for the classes and thank you for it. Please feel free to talk to Lalasa about extending them to Port Caynn. I'm sure there are women there who'd be excellent candidates as Protector's Maids. And there's icelights— you know about them?"

"I've heard something."

She took a few of the beads Numair and Amiir'aan had made for the children from her pocket. "Just samples, so the idea's plain. They absorb daylight and shine in the dark. Lalasa and Master Orman will be promoting them on the Guild's behalf. They come in any size and shape, and we'll be offering a very good deal to light the lower city." She let irony shade her voice. "I understand the Lord Provost's keen, but you can't have everything and I do see it as a follow-up to the classes."

He rolled beads. "That's something of a balancing act for me, Kel."

"I imagine it is. Still, there's no price on the damage that can be done to a woman, is there? I know that, Jer, from the Black God's own lips, and Lalasa knows it too." She saw his acknowledgement and the shadows of old pain. "Besides, clever business doesn't need darkness and there'll be lots of negotiations over where icelights go. Pillars or strips on walls? All sorts of questions. But there will be lights—they protect."

"Yes, they do. Or will. I can live with that. Happily, in fact." He sat back. "You're not what I expected, Kel. They said you get what you need and you're not a woman to cross, but you're more fun that that. Lalasa says you're the sun and stars rolled together, but you're more grounded than that." His gaze drifted to his tea. "They also say you invite gods to dinner and call on them as you will. Well, we all do, but they answer you. They say. And you've named one I'm not keen to meet for a long time."

"They say a lot, Jer, but yes, the gods seem to be interested in me. I have no intention of discussing them, and I sincerely hope their interest fades when war is done. But I'll say two things, though I'd rather not swear by gods' oath. It attracts unwanted attention. One is that while I've never met the Crooked God I've reason to believe he'd not want to thwart anything I'm about. And you shouldn't fear the Black God, whenever your time comes."

"And inviting two to dinner?"

Amusement joined thoughtfulness in his eyes and she smiled where once she might have flushed. "Their daughter was my guest and I had just dedicated their first major shrines. It was

only polite."

"I'd have offered them tea, myself." He smiled slowly, more openly than before, and she let herself smile back; he was a charming and interesting man, however deadly and by her lights set on the wrong road. "I think we'll get along famously, as George thought."

Practical issues were soon sorted. What any Majesties involved would make of sharing a reception remained to be seen but Jer looked forward to it. He saw her out, a gesture whose value she realised when he opened the door on a crowd of women gathered around Alder and the boy, who had progressed to scratching the gelding's poll. Among them were several Kel recognised as kin of her Maids and greeted, apologising as she mounted that she couldn't stop. She grasped Jer's hand.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll see you at the wedding."

"And thank you, Protector. All honour to you." For the second time in a day she asked Alder to walk on, away from the Dancing Dove, but this time supplied the laughter as she heard the Rogue's exasperated voice behind her. "Miss Isran's wedding, loobies. What did you think?"


	25. Chapter 23

Charity

Chapter Twenty-Three — Charity

19–26 December

To Kel's surprise Roald insisted on coming with Shinko and his mother. That morning was Iden's Ordeal and Kel and the children, accompanying Owen, met the Prince and Princess in the Chapel. He expressed his desire to attend, offering reasons that didn't add up, and Iden's dazed emergence allowed him to take it as a done deal. Muttering, Kel despatched messengers, and while part of her was pleased for Lalasa she thought politics were at work. Sir Myles had once spoken of the 'reversionary interest' that developed around the heir, but what Roald was demonstrating to whom Kel couldn't work out. She suspected it was to do with being his own man against his father's manipulations, which was well and good but shouldn't inconvenience Lalasa.

In any case he was at Shinko's side as she entered the Temple of Mithros behind Thayet, both gorgeous in creations of Lalasa's. Kel was in her green kimonos, and escorted them to reserved seats; as Lalasa had been extremely reticent about her guests of honour there was surprise as they were identified. The congregation was unusual: Lalasa had no surviving family except Gower, still in Palace service and magnificently gloomy in a bright tunic, who was giving her away, but Tomas had an array of siblings, nephews and nieces, massed with his happy parents. They had many friends with them but even so were outnumbered by the crush of people supporting Lalasa: favoured customers, Protector's Maids, and people involved in the self-defence classes, including a large group—or pack—of Dogs. Palace servants were represented, a beaming Salma among them, as were trades-, Guilds-, and Wardsmen with whom Lalasa's business brought her into contact. Nor had the Dogs deterred Jerrold Tinker, who ghosted Kel a wink when she caught his eye. Lalasa's exquisite needlework made a swathe of elegance among outfits, however varied in cut and style, and there was a catalogue of mercantile and lower-city best, some gaudier than tasteful and surprisingly unflattering to the wearers. It might all have clashed as horribly as some colours but everyone was minded to enjoy themselves and tolerantly curious about the unusual. A royal appearance by the bride's most famous patrons was altogether satisfactory, honouring the woman everyone agreed was the best dress-maker of her time, and giving the best possible imprimatur to the occasion. Kel found it satisfactory too, for different reasons, and as they waited for bride and groom found herself reflecting on the frightened girl Gower had persuaded her to take into service, and wondering about the effects their intertwining lives had generated.

As tactfully as sensibly Lalasa had not sought to compete with her own best efforts, and her wedding dress was a marvel of simplicity, relying on purity of line, a long train, and sumptuous white material in which rainbow colours shimmered. Emboldened by her experience as Yuki's bridesmaid Kel had offered to do as much again but Lalasa had indignantly refused, insisting she would be a guest, not a workhorse, and seeing the concentration of the women from Lalasa's staff who carried the train, manoeuvring it to lie as it ought, she was grateful to be so. The dazzling dress might have left Tomas invisible but complimented his tunic and breeches, in the same shimmering material piped in blue and embroidered with symbols of his craft; he wore a small sigil that marked him as a journeyman, declaring that while he might not have the same talent and acumen as Lalasa he'd no need to marry for advantage. When they claimed one another, faces radiant, the chimes sounded, which didn't always happen at weddings and was thought a sign of true mutual devotion; bride and groom laughed startled delight, and as they exchanged necklaces and lit the fire Kel directed thanks to the stern-faced statue behind them,

wondering who else might be watching and what they thought of the King's decision to gamble with the timeway. The first shy kiss and the raucous cheer it produced brought her back to the present and a renewed appreciation of her own inactivity as she saw the train smoothly turned.

Massed carriages in Jane Street was not possible, and neither Lalasa's finery nor the outfits Kel and the royal women wore allowed riding or walking far, so changes were necessary. The Mithran priests had tut-tutted at Lalasa's shy request so Kel had simply had Irnai ask for use of a room in the Temple of Shakith, ignoring the stuttered reversals of the Mithrans when they'd finally put two and two together, and she, Thayet, and Shinko found Lalasa just finishing. The second dress was similar but lacked the train and was cut to allow walking, and she was set to help her patrons change if Kel hadn't told her not even to think of such a thing on her wedding day. Thayet's personal maids were on hand, and one, having received stringent orders from a laughing queen, ruthlessly overrode Shinko's protests to remove the face-paint on which she'd insisted for the wedding. Kel was deftly helped from her kimonos; they were all changing to more masculine outfits—for the royals leggings and long, colourful Kmiri tunics—so Kel had to lose her shift and was briefly reduced to breastband and loincloth.

She heard indrawn breaths and became aware as she hadn't been for a while of her scars. The many griffin marks on hands and forearms had long faded to thin tracery but arrows, spears, and swords had spotted and laddered arms and legs, and her narrow breastband didn't begin to hide the welted spiderweb from Stenmun's axe-point that spread across her left shoulder. When she'd first been naked before Dom the trembling world and the terrible wound on his leg had made her disfigurements unimportant, and on other nights his fingers and lips had traced them, as hers had traced his, with soft questions of provenance. Now self-consciousness possessed her understanding of how they set her apart not only from Thayet and Shinko, with their lovely skins, but from almost all noblewomen, yet she didn't shrink from examination as she once would, drawing on breeches, vest, and her best Mindelan tunic without looking at the others. Buttoning up she coolly met eyes.

"They come with the territory, I'm afraid. I count myself fortunate I've never broken my nose, and often wonder how I've managed it." Few knights who jousted much had failed to do so, but Thayet wasn't fooled.

"I'm sorry, Keladry. I was thinking of the price you have paid on all our behalves. That shoulder wound was from Rathhausak?"

She nodded. "Axe-point. Careless of me, but it could be worse."

"I don't think that's quite the point." To Kel's surprise Thayet gave her a quick embrace. "I know how much Jon and I owe you, and I'm sorry we must hope to owe you more. I was very upset about that decision."

"It doesn't matter, Thayet, especially today."

Kel didn't want Scanra or the timeway to invade a day blessedly free of them, and Thayet nodded but drew Kel's arm through her own as they followed Lalasa out. Numair had been on notice to provide a rainshield but the day was sunny and many guests walked. Some had gone ahead but Lalasa and Tomas led a principal group with bridesmaids and Tomas's best man and supporter—his brother and closest friend—followed by Kel with the children and Thayet, and Roald with Shinko. The royals' guard flanked them, uniforms gleaming and eyes alert but trying hard not to march, and Kel's escort, more relaxed, flanked the column trailing behind. They were inevitably moving slowly and Kel's eyes, probing the crowd, identified Rogue's men among them but her attention was on Thayet's conversation as she smiled and waved at good-humoured crowds on Temple Way and Gold Street. It wouldn't have struck Kel as the place to have a talk but she realised it was ideal; they could barely hear one another, and no-one could hope to

eavesdrop.

"It does matter, Keladry, and I suspect I shan't have another chance to talk to you before you leave. The way you froze Jon after the Council was less than he deserved, and if it's any consolation it left him very uncomfortable. It was impressive." Thayet broke off to greet a woman Kel gathered was a Palace servitor, and effortlessly left her standing taller. "I don't understand why he's so unable to treat you well. Well, maybe I do, but let's say he knows he's been on the wrong foot with you from the beginning, and didn't take your, um, apprehensions about him after Rathhausak well. Didn't like the view in the mirror. Nor having to trail you to deal with the elemental."

"Numair said something about Kalasin's decision not to—"

"Jon's decision, you mean. Yes, that's in there, but it's not only that. There are shadows of Alanna, and he wonders if you'll be Roald's Champion as she is his. But what matters is how he's using you, or trying to, because he's got himself in an impatient muddle about you and what the gods are doing, and is trying to regain his footing with himself."

Kel wasn't sure she understood, though squinting she could see she might have posed a greater challenge to the King than she'd understood, and for longer. Even when she'd learned that he and Alanna had been lovers, illuminating a tempestuous relationship, she hadn't imagined the King's view of her through a personal rather than political window. She couldn't believe those cool blue eyes had ever harboured desire for her—it was absurd, as every glance at Thayet confirmed—but dimly intuited that the politics crackling around her had, even while she was innocent of them, for the King been shot through with strange echoes coloured by Alanna's refusal and critical provision of the Dominion Jewel and her Championship. But Thayet hadn't finished.

"Anyway, despite everything, I have to ask you to keep him safe. Detail three soldiers to sit on him if you must, but don't let him get himself killed in some attempt at heroics. And if what you fear does happen get him out if you can. Roald's coming on well and Shinko's a treasure, but they're too young, especially with all the treason issues looming, and Roald can't yet use the Dominion Jewel as Jon can."

"Of course I'll protect him, Thayet, but I can't have people sit on him. He's in charge."

"He won't be if there is a battle. And at New Hope you will be, even if Vanget's giving military orders. You look at him as you did the other day, tell him to do whatever sensible thing you're ordering, and he will. He's a fair strategist but no field commander, and knows it. It's another thing he struggles with. I call it Jasson's Shadow but not to him because I get a cross lecture about why his all-conquering grandpa has nothing to do with anything."

She spoke to an elderly Kmir and his wife, in leggings and tunics like Thayet's own. The chopping syllables of Kmiri always seemed to Kel to lack the grace of Yamani, and she was surprised to hear Shinko speak in the same tongue. Then again, proper ways of controlling mothers-in-law was a subject of extensive Yamani discussion and there were earnest treatises of advice to brides; Kel could just imagine a tart observation that the misfortune of having a gaijin mother-in-law to deal with did provide an obvious first step in garnering approval.

"Were they with you when you came to Tortall?"

"No, only Buri. But Kmiris came over the following decade, when it was clear I'd landed on my feet and Sarain was still a nightmare. There's a community in Whitethorn, because of their horsefair, and that man's an ostler for the Lord Provost. But we'll be there soon." Thayet's apparent attention to the crowd never wavered but her arm, still through Kel's, tightened. "I'm

afraid, Kel, because I agree with you Jon's taking a bigger risk than he realises, but I have to believe it'll work. And if it does, as we hope—especially if Maggur is killed—there will be a moment when the world is in your hands. It's not for me or anyone to tell you what to do with the power you'll hold, but there'll be a point where you want something different than he does, and that will matter enough. Unless something's horribly wrong, if you put yourself on the line, demanding part of what you're owed, he'll fold. Remember it."

Kel wasn't sure if it was luck or good timing by Thayet that had her concluding this dream-coloured analysis as the turn from Dog's Way into Jane Street forced them to disengage. Doing so the Queen dropped back, leaving Kel to follow bride and groom down a single file between soldiers comically drawing arms in to allow their charges room. The crowd was deafening, and a rhythmic thumping was eventually revealed as Dogs clashing batons, waiting for their own among the trailing guests. One of Jerrold's men she recognised from the Dancing Dove was watching with a look she was tempted to call a bemused sneer, but when she caught his eye grinned and adopted an earnest expression that brought a smile to her lips.

The Weavers' Guildhall was less ostentatious than most, its members closer to the poverty fluctuating prices and thin margins could bring, but it was grand by Jane Street standards. Its stonework was clean, and engaged columns echoed by intervening pilasters, harking back to the Thanic style of Tortall's oldest buildings, gave it the look of a temple or court. Before visiting to consider security for Thayet and Shinko Kel had never been inside a Corus guildhall, and hadn't known what to expect, but the Guildmaster's office proved neat and bustling and the Great Hall splendid, lined with tapestries and equipped with fine tables the Guildmaster said came from a useful deal with the Joiners. Sunlight streamed through high windows but a hundred candles were lit; glassware gleamed, silver glinted and enticing aromas gusted.

As many people were being packed in as it could hold, and there was the usual polite manoeuvring as everyone found places. On high table seating wasn't what one might expect, save for Lalasa and Tomas together, with Gower and Tomas's parents flanking them: Kel, with the children, Thayet, Shinko, and a squeezed-in Roald were opposite, but to Kel's amusement Jerrold Tinker drifted to the seat beyond Roald, and beyond him was a young Dog she recognised as one of the self-defence instructors. The two seemed to get on famously, however they were opponents in law, and though mischief tugged at Kel she controlled it and murmured to Thayet that Shinko might tell Roald he was next to the Rogue. Thayet's blink was its own satisfaction—the things she'd said swirled distractingly in Kel's mind—and a moment later she saw Roald stiffen, then turn affably to Jerrold. The seat beyond the children was taken by her sister Adie's maid Tian, whom she'd known was doing a lot of organising but hadn't seen to speak to. Tian had never been as fearful as Lalasa, but there had been a time when she could no more have smiled so easily taking a seat in this company than Kel could when fear of heights had frozen her; to see her now as confident as the young Dog Kel could hear sizing up Roald was a warmth she knew to be pride. It wasn't in herself—people had to grow themselves—but she knew she'd played a part in these women's success, and wasn't embarrassed by Thayet's murmur as she followed Kel's look and thought.

"You've done more in two years than I've managed in twenty, Keladry. If I wasn't so grateful I'd be jealous."

"I didn't have a husband who doesn't know what to make of women to manage. And Lalasa took power for herself, not by direction. Try it."

Thayet's rich laugh turned heads and she squeezed Kel's shoulder before turning to Shinko as food began to be served. A few days before, Kel had used a little carving of the Green Lady Tobe had made to fashion a tiny shrine—there were none in Corus nor anywhere nearer than New Hope—and sent up a prayer filled with an ironic appreciation that some requests were

absurd but couldn't in love and friendship not be made. The kitchen aromas had already made her wonder, and when the white soup starter exploded almonds and parsley on her tongue she sent up a blaze of thanks mixed with apologies for having no intention of making them public, and imagined she heard a mellow laugh among the dancing flavours. There were exclamations all round and Kel's sudden, guilty thought about the disappointments the cooks would find trying to duplicate their success was soothed away with what she would have sworn was another laugh.

How the Green Lady enhanced the wine Kel wasn't sure, sticking to juice with the children, but those around her were talking with great good cheer. Shinko had a fit of giggles at something, holding her shukusen before her face and almost getting hiccoughs as she tried to control mirth, and Thayet's gorgeous laugh was frequent. Even Gower essayed a chuckle, and after Kel and Lalasa met one another's astonished eyes they dissolved into laughter they were hard put to it to explain without offending his lugubrious dignity. But he was bursting with pride in his niece, gratitude to Kel, and an attitude to the royals she couldn't quite work out but blended humility, triumph, astonishment, and approval with a unifying satisfaction of wild hope. It occurred to Kel how much she owed him, and when he mentioned her in a speech of impeccable dignity she found herself possessed by a powerful sense of how odd it was that those who'd helped her most so often believed she'd helped them. Fortunately she didn't have to speak herself, but was mentioned again by Tian when she spoke of Lalasa's path to the altar. By some unspoken agreement both omitted the usual toasts and the slack was taken up by Thayet, rising to propose the couple's health, prosperity, and fertility to the benefit of themselves, their community, and the realm, and unleashing a storm of cheers, catcalls, whistles, and all-round approval that palpably lashed the whole high table. Kel saw a glazed look flicker in Irnai's eyes and wondered if somewhere a hawk was calling, finding in the moment one future rather than another; on her other side Thayet also had a strange look as she sat, and Kel realised that for all the publicity of her life she'd probably never commanded such a mixed audience, more like soldiers than courtiers in their humour. Or not in Tortall—the tale of escorting orphans through the horrors of Sarain's civil war reminded her how little she knew about her Queen's life before Alanna entered it. And that could be rectified, with overdue discussion of Buri, her pregnancy, and the virtues of the Green Lady's spiral.

There was music and dancing but many people never made it out of the Great Hall, lingering over any food they could find and continuing to drink without ever becoming drunk. By common acclaim the cooks were summoned, toasted, and presented with glasses of wine. Tobe and Irnai slipped down to wander among the tables, and when they wanted to explore, glancing at Kel for permission, a flick of her head had two of her men, standing round the walls but as vocal as everyone, quietly going with them. Shinko saw the byplay.

"Always the Protector, Keladry-chan. And so wise. It took only an hour's polite immobility for my esteemed father-in-law to swear he would take the Own's First in all their glory. Roald has ordered their quartermaster to take every arrow they can find. I will work on more."

"Thank you, Cricket. And Roald." She gave a crooked grin. "It all helps. And pray to Lord Sakuyo. He's dancing in our lives right now."

"I always do." Uncharacteristically with Kel Shinko's shukusen came up as she switched to Yamani. "Keladry-sensei, has the High One spoken to you? I have felt his comfort when I pray, and no longer think our meeting as children or the death of Princess Chisokami were accidents."

Kel had similar thoughts and Yamani was secure here. "I've never met him, Cricket, but I believe he's offered me comfort too—a strange calm. I think it's what his laughter lives on. I'm sure we're part of his joke, as poor Aly seems to have become part of the Crooked God's, if you know that story. But it's a joke through us, not on us." A thought fell into place, perfectly. "We're

both jokes on Tortall, Cricket. And on Mithros. I think the Goddess is with the tricksters in this. Ask yourself, what did male Tortall want least after Alanna and your mother-in-law? Not a Tortallan noblewoman who'd trained to arms since she was five, nor a gorgeous Yamani who could whap the best of them with a glaive before breakfast any day. And we're childhood friends?" She dropped into a low mode filled with dialect she knew Cricket could follow because they'd once overheard an imperial gardener using it most surprisingly, and often eavesdropped on him thereafter. "The Cult of the Gentle Mother be well swived, Cricket, and laughing with pleasure after. The icemen are on us, the raka ready to rise, and women set Sungod and old men alike by the ears. Ice and Copper aren't the only things melting in this fire." For the last thing she knew she had to revert to proper Yamani, and chose the high mode of friend-to -imperial; she'd never used it before but it flowed from her tongue. "Everywhere and everyone is on the timeway and turns with it. Tell your uncle the best way to ride a joke is to participate vigorously. He should make great effort with the spidrens on Wangetsushima." Her voice became dreamy. "He could offer young spidrens training as their own unit, and use them against bandits and raiders. Even thunder stills / to hear Him ease His lungs."

Kel blinked, and knew from the blazing look in Cricket's eyes that her thought had been confirmed with something besides. A spidren corps? And yet … were Quenuresh's kin to restrict themselves for ever as the price of mortal tolerance? Or stay in New Hope's woods permanently, eating cheese and spinning webs for deer? Their skills as predators would make them formidable soldiers, just as—the thought unfurled to blind her—her dedication as a soldier made her a formidable predator, when she chose. She only knew she spoke aloud because Thayet glanced at her, eyebrows rising.

"Surely Maggur's on the wrong side of the gods—not just Lord Mithros and the Black God. He's on the wrong side of the Goddess and Lord Sakuyo, too, with the joke at least two generations in the making, from before he was even born, poor stupid blasphemer." She shook her head in piercing pity that balanced Sakuyo's booming laughter and the Black God's silence, and met Thayet's eyes. "The world's turning. I've no idea if I'll survive, and I know I'm on borrowed time. A grace that wasn't owed and could rightly be withdrawn any moment. But pray with your daughter-in-law for Sakuyo's grace and I think you'll be answered. You told me to seize my moment when it came. But it won't be mine—it'll be bigger than that, and if happens it'll be a joke on me, too. Sakuyo's best always catch the jokers to their advantage. Ask Shinko for stories." She didn't know her smile was heartbreaking. "Have you ever wondered why the Black God's daughter is one of the tricksters?"

The time before Longnight passed slowly but Kel wasn't impatient. War would find her soon enough, and if she didn't quite think these her last days she had the clarity and calm that came before combat. Warric's Ordeal was two nights after Iden's, and she was there with Owen to applaud him; as with Iden, some of those waiting looked at her sidelong as if she might start chatting with the elemental and, she thought uncharitably, didn't know if they were relieved or disappointed when nothing happened. Otherwise she was free of duties and suited herself.

A putative horror was avoided when Turomot informed her that while Torhelm could now talk, he wouldn't, save to curse. Without hard evidence of treason Turomot wouldn't countenance torture and without answers the King wouldn't countenance release, so Torhelm would languish until he changed his mind. On the whole Kel felt relief, and tried to forget him. A more pleasing errand was to deliver Lalasa's present. Not having anticipated such a mild winter she and Tomas

were not taking a honeymoon until later, and by mid -morning the day after the wedding she was back at her shop. She couldn't stop smiling, looking so happy that Kel almost hadn't the heart to distress her by presenting her with the deeds to the building; protests shifted to a rueful glare when Kel told her she might insist on tithing but in future must pay rent to herself. When Kel left the shop was crowded and she was applauded; doubting one of them could have explained why, she smiled politely and went to find Master Randall for sensible conversation about barding.

There were also icelights, and the following day Kel went to see the Lord Provost, all affability, then to a meeting with excited Wardsmen and cautious merchants. She had temporarily reclaimed from Master Orman's office the sample lights Barin had brought, and the winter sun had been bright enough for an impressive demonstration; following it with a more generous offer from the Guild's than anyone expected, with the sole condition that after Palace Way the poorest areas be lit first, she left with a firm order worth more than a thousand gold nobles over five years. Discreet remarks about the need to consult the Lord Provost, Temple of the Goddess, and (however informally) Rogue had been heard by the right ears, and it was a good day for Master Orman too, as he would transport the lights from New Hope. When she came hotfoot with the news he welcomed her as a colleague in serious enterprise. He had secured multiple orders for webbing and stoneware, and had had many enquiries about petrified mesh, not least from sea captains, leading to discussion of her hope that Mindelan could find a basilisk to go with its spidrens and start a second branch of the Guild to make mesh for the seatrade. He promised to call on her father and Lord Imrah, and send Barin to consult with Anders and Inness; she warned him about increased checks on exports and left him working out how to make sure his business was compliant ahead of time.

For the rest she and the children spent time with her family, Adie and Orie being in town, and with Daine and Numair as well as Kitten and Kawit. Daine believed herself pregnant again but didn't want to say anything until she was sure; it meant she certainly wouldn't be travelling north, and if part of Kel was disappointed at the lost resource she was glad one friend at least would be safe. It didn't stop her worrying about Numair, a resource she couldn't forgo, and Daine was concerned too but laughingly intrigued by Kel's story about food at Lalasa's wedding and what she thought she'd heard. Her notion that the Goddess might be favouring tricksters rather than Mithros met a more mixed reception: Daine said she found it hard to imagine but conceded the possibility, while Numair was taken by the idea, but after an abstracted half-hour shook his head and said the implications made it hurt.

Kitten, anxious about her grandsire's visit, went to burn energy with Kawit and the children, and Kel took the chance to ask Numair if he could identify the poem Dom had mentioned. Her description favoured Neal's interpretation and left him scratching his head, but he did offer her a few names to try. One being a poet she remembered Neal burbling about in the days before he'd had to confront Yamani aesthetics, she started there in the Palace library and within a couple of hours found what she thought must be the right piece. Reading it carefully she found her body responding and decided Dom had been right. The male speaker was away from home and wanted to be back, walking familiar hills and dells, enjoying in reality sights and scents he dreamed about, and while he didn't utter one improper word there was definitely an erotic charge that fitted an absent lover and enforced celibacy as the real issue. Once you thought that, landscapes and activities described suddenly became very lewd indeed, recalling things Dom had done that had made her gasp with pleasure and now made her ponder male desire with a fresh sense of its relentless vigour and frequent oddity. Frustration might be clouding her judgement but other pieces didn't seem to imply hidden meanings of the same kind. Amused and aroused she copied the poem, thinking she might try a calligraphic version for Dom, and went to find some privacy. Who knew poetry had such uses?

One person she didn't see was the King, who'd looked at her warily during the Queen's Ball and subsequently seemed to avoid her, perhaps feeling, as she did, that Imbolc was soon

enough. She did find herself quietly accosted by Ettenor, deeply concerned by Roald's orders, and gave him marks for common sense: with all the ceremonial duties they undertook the First wasn't a fighting a unit like the Second or Third; he knew it, and was determined, after his mistakes at Tirrsmont, not to err again. There wasn't time to change fundamentals, and a limit to how much she could explain, but she talked in general terms about what she and Roald hoped to guard against. Once she'd seen the First's training schedule she ruthlessly stripped inessentials to concentrate on archery. Mentally placing the First along a section of the eastern alure she gave specific ranges to practice and exercises in rate of fire, fire by rotation from a crenel, and endurance. Leaving him no less alarmed but better focused she sought out quartermasters and armourers, often hard -bitten veterans who needed only her flat declaration that she expected the First to see their most serious action since the death of Glaisdan to take her requests seriously. Whatever Ettenor could achieve in the time he had, the First would leave for New Hope armed to the nines and laden with every arrow they could carry besides as many packhorses' worth as the quartermasters' combined ingenuity could contrive.

She also asked them to pass word that if any veteran who could stand and shoot happened to be free to visit New Hope for Imbolc—to congratulate Captain Domitan on his post, say— they'd be welcome as her guests; and of course, travel in a warzone did mean travelling armed. It was a long shot, but as she'd argued to Wyldon and others she thought there were more veterans at loose ends than the army allowed, and the men she was talking to didn't think it unlikely people would answer her appeal. Besides, she knew of at least one very long shot that had paid off handsomely, and in manning alures every bow would count. The gravity of her request and her clear belief there'd be a real battle galvanised the staff from wintertime routine to something like campaign preparation, and that would help Ettenor sharpen up the First.

On Longnight eve she took the children to her parents' house. Adie and Orie were attending a Nond ball with their husbands, but Kel had politely declined and her Mama and Papa had followed suit, glad of the chance to see her more privately. Their shared fears couldn't be wholly set aside but they all knew the dice were rolling and it was more entertaining to think beyond a winning throw than a losing one. Both the goldsmith and Master Orman had been in touch with her father, who was grateful, amused, and increasingly delighted by the way Kel envisaged the Guild working. She in turn revelled in the chance to pay something back to the Mindelan she loved, however little she'd been there since childhood, and joined with her Mama in enjoyable scheming to icelight Seabeth-and-Seajen. All northern fiefs would need time to recover from war, even if Imbolc ended it, but Kel was prepared for the north to enjoy greater discounts than anywhere except Corus. Immediate need aside, it was a mechanism that over time might serve to erode the gross imbalance of wealth enjoyed by southern fiefs for dubious as well as structural reasons; how migrating capital might pass to Scanra she had no idea, but at least it would be heading in the right direction.

Nor would increased trade through Mindelan and Frasrlund with Yaman, Carthak, and perhaps Rajmuat hurt, and Kel did, hesitantly, tell her parents about the ideas that had come to her with that highest Yamani mode. Vorgitarl might have things to say about the possibility of recruiting more aggressive spidrens as warriors—harnessing rather than trying to neutralise their conditioning—and her father ought to be diplomatically aware of the letter Shinko would have sent her uncle. When Kel had thought about the concept of armed spidrens carefully she'd found herself juddering as she realised they would most easily use bladed weapons strapped to their legs —a vision uncomfortably close to the killing devices. At the same time her sense of Sakuyo's laughter had no difficulty supposing he'd find the echo hilarious so long as the octoped samurai were serving his emperor and people. Neither of her parents knew what to say, and she understood the ways of thinking about the gods she was learning by force and circumstance were alien to them; it was a sadness, but they didn't stand away or suppose her other than herself—they just couldn't see how pieces now meshed for her.

Skating over the divine to the practicalities of spidren employment it occurred to her to ask if they ever went to sea. They were far better equipped than mortals for climbing rigging and neither furling nor unfurling sails would be beyond their claws, though sail-ties would need to be redesigned—except that, as Tobe pointed out, webbing would do the job. Both children had been impressed sailing south by work aloft and gleefully imagined spidren sailors, leaving her parents as bemused as amused, but to Kel's thinking showed excellent discipline, discarding as many ideas as they adopted, and refining those. She thought several points worth pitching to Vorgitarl and saw her father awake to realisation that another fairy-tale absurdity was a serious proposition.

Walking back they saw a shooting star in the erratic constellation called the Cat and made wishes. What Tobe or Irnai thought of behind closed eyes Kel couldn't guess; her own desire was simply that New Hope be safe, and the King with it. To ask for her own safety seemed presumptuous even in such whimsy; perhaps she could earn her second life, perhaps it would be temporary—it didn't matter in the bigger picture, though she pictured Dom alive and well in the aftermath. The star seemed hopeful, and she passed the walk telling stories Alanna and Daine told of meeting the Cat, sitting on the Goddess's throne and during one of the periods when he was missing from the heavens. They knew better by now than to think anything impossible, but she enjoyed their sceptical looks as she invited them to check with Daine or Kitten.

They did, of course, and as going to find Daine and Numair on Midwinter morning seemed a tradition worth continuing it didn't take long. Sarralyn had joined the gathering and Kel was touched to find the sight of Kitten illuminating the petrified model Palace was her favourite entertainment. It had, Kitten said smugly, also been a useful present for her, and proved it by producing a symphony of chirps and clicks that had each finial gleaming rainbow colours and Sarralyn gurgling delight. The showing-off was partly self-distraction from worry about Diamondflame, and the day's presents helped, as did interrogation by Tobe and Irnai about the Cat, whom Kitten thoughtfully said seemed a friendly, sensible constellation and not in the least annoying. Her mindspeech was audible to all and Kel had to suppress a laugh; friendly and not annoying had not been Alanna's choice of adjectives for the beloved, astringent feline she'd known as Faithful. The dragonet was pleased with her Ma's pregnancy but observed wistfully that a dragon brother would have been fun, and as the morning passed it was difficult to see her struggle with fear of disappointment. Numair innocently offered a diversion by asking if she'd found the poem, and her blush led to a half-guarded, half-amused conversation while Daine helped the children stoke themselves with sweet rolls. Numair's eyes took on a teasing glint.

"If you'd told me the poem you wanted had two meanings, Kel, and blushed so prettily, I'd have sent you to it straight away. It's quite famous. Accurate, too, I'd say."

She met his eyes defiantly. "I thought so, from the little I know of such things. I'm surprised no-one's ever written a female version."

"Now there's an enchanting thought. The landscape might get a little more improbable than hillocks, forests, and caves, mind."

The thought pulled a laugh from her and she found she could relax into the banter. Before he'd partnered with Daine Numair had had a reputation among court ladies, some said still to carry torches; she'd heard the gossip and paid it little heed, but the man she'd come to know was passionate in many things, and long before she'd had personal knowledge she'd seen the way he looked at Daine and understood she saw intent desire. Yuki's frankness and Alanna's bluntness were resources she'd come to appreciate but this kind of earthy wit with a man she liked—loved as a friend—and was at ease with was new. It depended, she realised, on their commitment to others, banishing flirtation, and perhaps wasn't so unusual, however it had been hidden from her before Dom. Certainly the classes in which uninspiring Mithran priests had dragged pages through classics hadn't been of much use with the mode of this poem, but her joking suggestion that if they

were to teach it they'd garner more attention led to a lamenting counter, that it wasn't the choice of works that was the problem but priests who could make anything dull and most things seem irrelevant. She didn't disagree but enjoyed pretending indignation, reminding him she'd been sent registers and could claim priestly status; and was interested in how he would teach classics. His classes in magic for pages without the Gift had always been informative, entertaining, and chaotically disorganised, but without magical theorems or side-effects to distract him his brain seemed more focused, and some things he seemed to think obvious about certain classics weren't ones she'd ever considered. She resolved to surprise Neal by asking to borrow some books, but conversation was curtailed by the return of the children, and a knock at the door.

It was a pair of messengers bearing gifts from Roald, Shinko, and Thayet. Many were tokens of affection rather than items of use, but Irnai was delighted with a set of Kmiri leggings and tunic from Thayet, promptly changing, and Tobe pleased by Roald's thoughtful gift of a knife with the Mindelan arms set in the hilt. Kel was ashamed to find herself surprised by Roald's care, but her own breath was taken away when she opened the narrow box from Shinko to find a shukusen. It wasn't just her gold-bordered arms on the fan that had her blinking, but its quality: the steel showed rippled damascening, the maker's mark was of one of the Imperial Armoury's masters, and the design maximally enabled the fan as an offensive weapon, additional razor-edges along each vane and sprung within the casing. And that casing was marked not with smaller versions of her sigil, as would be customary, but with the lines about Lord Sakuyo easing his lungs. The children were familiar with shukusen and knew how respectfully one had to be treated, but seeing them carefully snap it open she knew they'd also been learning fan-toss and resolved it should become a part of New Hope's culture. She hung the shukusen on her belt and was wondering how to thank Cricket for such a princely—princessly?—gift when a blurring squawk and banging outer door announced Kitten's precipitate departure.

Without a snowstorm Numair had only to glance up to confirm a dragon heading in, and they grabbed coats; Daine carried Sarralyn, who felt the excitement and beamed. Kitten reached the ponies' field long before them, and had to be called back by Daine from the middle of the pasture. The mild weather would have allowed the ponies to stay out but she'd made sure the field was clear, in case, and it was only a moment before Diamondflame's easy spiral brought him in to land, vast wings flaring to blast them with air. The high visibility meant anyone outside had seen him—city folk must have been gaping upward—and a crowd was gathering, keeping distance but goggle-eyed as Kitten happily bowed and bounced and was again caught neatly in an enormous paw. Looking around Daine seemed mildly irritated but shrugged, adjusting Sarralyn to see the dragon with eyes gone very round.

"Can't be helped. Dragons are fair interesting. But if he's brought them, Numair, I want to get inside quick."

"Alright Magelet. We'd best get talking, then."

Following with the children Kel wondered what the problem was, but her own questions weren't ones she could ask in general hearing so privacy was fine by her. Light gleamed on Diamondflame's scales.

Greetings, Godborn, and Numair Salmalín. This is Sarralyn?

"Yes." Daine held the baby so she and the dragon could inspect one another.

Welcome to you, Sarralyn Godkin. You join an interesting time. Sarralyn gurgled, waving an arm, and the huge, angular head turned. And greetings to you also, Keladry, Tobeis, and Irnai. Basilisk and stormwing words of the Protector of the Small have reached the Dragonlands.

"Good ones, I hope, my Lord."

Very much so. The stormwing eyries rang with news of Amourta's hatching. But that must wait, not only on my excitable granddaughter. Godborn, I bear your new guests.

Daine's face lit up. "That's wonderful, Diamondflame, but can we make introductions in Kawit's stable, please? I know it's a mortal bore but secrecy matters."

Of course. It is in their nature.

Kawit was waiting outside her stable block, and Diamondflame entered with that same extraordinary magical dilation. Kel and the children, waiting to follow, saw doorway and walls ripple aside to let him pass, though once he was in the building looked as it had before, if stone and timber could suffer from severe indigestion. The expressions of those watching were comical, and when Kel's eyes met those of a gaping ostler she shrugged eloquently before letting the children tug her forward. Making their way round the coils of Diamondflame's tail they were in time to see Daine reach his head, handing Sarralyn to Numair.

"Alright, quickly, please. I don't want the King to know and he's bound to be along."

Kel had a sense of Diamondflame's neck rippling before she realised droplets of black fluid—black something—were flowing to the floor where they rolled to Daine, who happily put hands down. The ball unravelled to flow up her arm, vanishing into her pocket. She stood and Kel was close enough to catch her words. "Thank you all. I promise lots of fun but for now, hush. Not a squeak until I say." Her eyes met Kel's fiercely. "Not a word, please. And you be careful too, Kitten."

I will, Mama, I promise.

Even in her happiness at seeing her grandsire Kitten's mindvoice was earnest, and Kel and the children nodded. The black things were clearly important, and she had every sympathy with keeping them safe from the King's notice. She and the children found seats on haybales as Kitten launched into an account of her year with appeals to Kawit for confirmation or explanation, and though that included her visit to New Hope the perspective was concerned with young immortals and caves. She did mention the skullroad but only to say tauros skulls were smaller than expected, and by the time the royal family turned up she was on to improved control of the firespell as well as illusion spells Kawit taught her. Diamondflame looked up and the mortals came to their feet.

That is good, Skysong, and you will soon show me how hard you have been working. Thank you for your care, Kawit. I will not forget. Greetings, Jonathan and Thayet jian Wilima of Conté, and Roald and Shinkokami, with my thanks for the hospitality of your realm.

Kel's mental ear had recovered sufficiently from the astounding richness and depth of Diamondflame's mindvoice to think there was a dragon blandness in his tone, and a glance at Tobe and Irnai suggested they agreed. The royals had no such advantage, and Kel saw them rock as awareness of the being speaking battered them.

"You are always welcome, Lord Diamondflame." The King bowed and his family followed. "We came to pay our respects."

That was simply true, Kel realised, and had a moment of sympathy for a king about whose delicately balanced political chessboard an eighty-five-foot dragon could move at will. And however angry with him she might be she knew that by comparison with Maggur or Imajane Rittevon he made a good showing.

That is kind of you.

A smile ghosted onto the King's—no, Jonathan of Conté's mouth. "Actually it's only sensible, my Lord. And while I'm sorry to interrupt your reunion with Lady Skysong there are matters I would be glad to discuss in the light of your long wisdom."

Are there? And yet the affairs of the mortal realm are no business of mine, nor of any dragon not dwelling here. Ask if you will, but beware.

His face was a picture, and in the way all the royals were standing Kel could see the pressure his family had applied. But Jonathan was not a king for nothing, and squared his shoulders. "Nevertheless, my Lord. It is your understanding of the timeway I desire, of course. I recently made a decision my family doesn't like." He glanced at Kel with dark eyes. "Nor Lady Keladry. There is a risk I believe warranted. Can you tell me if I am wrong?"

Protector, what say you to your king?

Caught in dual scrutiny and all too aware of how shallowly ephemeral any mortal must seem to this dragon Kel felt anger with the King flare and die. Suddenly weary she flapped a hand. "Oh sit down, sire, everyone." Ignoring protocol, she sat herself as he gave her an odd look and found a haybale for himself and Thayet; Roald did the same, sitting next to Shinko. "Right, wrong—it's not as simple as that. Diamondflame, the roil in the timeway is close, yes?"

Closer than it was, Protector.

"The mortal realms will enter it this year?"

Very probably, yes. In immortal terms it is imminent, certainly.

"I bet. And would I be right to think that in the last few weeks the outcomes still possible have become more extreme? That some—most—of the middle ground has been lost?"

The dragon's gaze became intent. That is very good, Protector. Yes, I believe so. Usually extreme possibilities disappear, but in any roil more may survive longer and that is strongly true of this roil, greater than any for a long time.

"Thank you." She turned to the King and her gaze wasn't the coldness of the Council chamber but a weariness that looked through him. "You think you're gambling, sire. What you actually did was raise the stakes and lengthen the odds. If we win it'll be better and if we lose worse." She shrugged. "I could argue for or against. What makes me angry isn't that you did it or even that you did it without asking those who'll pay the price, win or lose. A king's a commander, and all commanders do that. It's that you've again put the least capable in the way of greatest harm and responsibility." She drew up one leg, wrapping arms round it as she brooded. "I doubt you even thought of it. The army doesn't see it either. I told Wyldon—one of his companies had mages to hold four killing devices, and five times as many refugees had two hedgewitches against six of them. Now Maggur has only to get his timing right and there'll be forty regular companies bottled up in Steadfast, Mastiff, and Northwatch while an army comes after two, with only civilians who've lost everything and convicts who've survived the mines to help. Some of them did something impossible, with the gods' help, and you said 'Wonderful, now do it again ten times bigger.'"

She saw listening mortals wince. Diamondflame cocked his head. You forget the immortals you have recruited, Protector.

"They've helped build walls and defences, but if Maggur keeps coming and the mortals can't hold him back, neither can they."

"Should I be conveniently ill, then?"

Her gaze returned to Jonathan's tight face and blue eyes. "I think it's too late, sire. The Council will still be going. And unless you're prepared to deny him outright and deal with the treason issue Runnerspring would insist Roald came in your place. Then if New Hope falls they'll all be dead or taken and you'll have a victorious army heading south as fast as they can move while most of your own struggle to catch up without much command left. You can call the whole thing off and go back to a waiting game or stand by the throw you've made. But I don't think you can fiddle with it any more."

You are again right, Protector. Extreme possibilities that survive become more likely as other events that must be cleave to them, while the timeway's force gathers as a river's when the banks narrow. It is more dangerous but sweeps away greater obstacles.

Jonathan's face was drawn in concentration. Kel couldn't tell what Thayet thought but Roald's worry was plain, and beneath her Yamani mask Cricket was equally concerned as well as astonished—probably at Kel's lack of protocol. The King looked up, face hawklike.

"Keladry, I made that decision for good reasons. You know what kind of poison Genlith and others have been, and it needs draining. Whatever you believe I've been trying to do that for years without the chance this might be. And this stagnant war has to end—the burden of the army is crippling us, and we've never been so diminished in mages, which leaves us vulnerable everywhere. All gods aside, you have been our best hope, my best hope, and the one great gift of the war—and I cannot forget the gods when they endorse you as they have, nor the timeway when you've pulled off that stroke with the stormwings. I am sorry for how it seems but I will abide my decision, and come." He took a breath. "Consulting you now, what can I do to shorten the odds again without diminishing the stakes?"

Aware of Thayet's and other gazes Kel thought carefully but there wasn't really anything new. "Bring as many men with you as you can, sire, especially archers, and make sure they've maximum field rations. Most of it's done already, so don't interfere with what comes to your notice. New Hope will have as many extra men as we can feed. We'll have Numair and Harailt, and we'll have to hope their magecraft with yours is enough for whatever Maggur's assembled." Tobe's hand found her shoulder and she straightened as she put arms around him and Irnai. "I suppose one thing's a disaster plan. If the worst happens griffins or stormwings might be able to get you out, and maybe a few others. But to where? And suppose treason has been confirmed— what orders will you need to get to whom? All the mages capable of firespeaking over long distances will be in New Hope. Numair, are there enough spellmirrors to make a relay?"

"There will be, Kel. I can firespeak Daine, but the point's well taken, Jon. Both of them. I might be able to fly out in hawk shape but I can't carry anyone. The Stone Tree Nation could, if they're willing."

"They may have other concerns, Numair. I wouldn't count on it." Kel looked back at the King and some of the coldness was back in her gaze. "Praying can't hurt but it won't change anything. And if we win through to peace, sire, you'd best use it wisely for more than yourself, or even your house and realm. I don't know what the gods might stand for, but those whose lives you gambled with won't stand for less than all they win and many are not Tortallan."

More wisdom, Protector. So you are answered, Jonathan of Conté, and whether you are wrong remains your own concern.

Whether the King though he was answered Kel took leave to doubt, but he had the sense not to argue and with painfully polite thanks withdrew. Thayet went with him and with looks that included anguish and embarrassment Roald and Shinko followed. Before he opened the door Kel

saw the King pause, shake himself, and don a mask not Yamani but an equivalent, a cheerful, ebullient projection of mood cloaking whatever might churn beneath. It was a control she could appreciate, however dubious she felt about choices he'd made or might yet make. She heard him greeting the crowd, warm-voiced and confident, but Diamondflame's tail shut the door and Kel found enormous eyes contemplating her.

You are a clearsighted mortal, Keladry, and that elemental knew what it was about. To you I will add two observations—that among the improbable outcomes he has made more likely are some I believe you would yourself risk much to win; and that the risk he has chosen is a more extreme version of those you have already embraced.

Kawit stirred, speaking for the first time. I have seen the skullroad at New Hope. The remnants of Chaos acting against tauros nature are yet potent and I have no doubt of the timeway's doing. You should see it yourself unless Rainbow has strong reason you should not.

He too believes I should see it and I will. Protector, am I right to understand you intend to return to New Hope as soon as you may?

"I must."

And Tobeis and Irnai go with you, despite the peril?

"Oh yes. They want to and believe they should."

I will bear you all there tomorrow, if you can be ready. Hush, Skysong—I will return.

Daine was grinning so Kel had heard right. "You will bear us?"

Yes. The mindvoice was threaded with mild amusement. You climb onto my back. I shall use the spiral spell. You will need warm clothes. I can bring you back to Corus afterwards, if you wish.

Her mind started working again as she suppressed the idea of being astride Diamondflame when he flew. She knew Daine had done as much during the Immortals' War and her memory of the mingled wonder and sick terror she'd felt at the thought was vivid. Before Balor's Needle she couldn't have hoped to endure it, and now she had no choice.

"Right. Thank you. I won't come back, if you can bear the children as well, but if we're going tomorrow there are things I must do." Dozens of them, starting with the consideration that while she and the children might be transported adragonback, Alder couldn't be. And there were thanks she owed she was loath to leave unspoken. "If you'll excuse us?"

"Hold on, Kel." Daine sat up. "Let's deal with the other thing. Numair, seal this place, please." Black fire skittered to spread out over doors and roof. "Thanks. Alright, you lot, come on out now."

As Kel watched with wide eyes the black drops—blobs—trickled out of Daine's pockets, dropping to the floor. Kitten didn't seem surprised but watched intently, and Kel tried to do the same. They weren't easy to count but there were at least forty and they were alive—quivering and changing shape, extruding little stalks that swelled into heads. The last to drop rolled to a place before Daine and produced a head more quickly than others, with a mouth that produced a faint squeak.

"Hello. I Trick."

Daine smiled. "Hello, Trick. You speak for all?"

"Today."

"Alright. Please all listen carefully." She pointed. "That's Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small, her son Tobeis, and Irnai of Rathhausak. Kel, children, meet darkings. They're very useful, and these ones would like some fun."

"Funfunfun." Trick squeaked agreement and was joined by others, They were no longer uniform but exhibiting little distinctions, a streak of colour, fragment of rock, feather, or material. "Dragons boring. All talk. We want doing."

They are impatient beings, Godborn, and perhaps foolish as well as very young, but we will not hold them against their will.

Trick whirled to bow to Diamondflame. "Fun. Doing. Helping."

"I hear you. Now listen again." Daine looked at Kel. "Where they come from doesn't matter. What does is that they were made as spies and it's what they do best. What one darking hears or sees, all know. And can communicate, in words and pictures. As you can hear there are limits, but they learn. When I heard this lot might want to leave the Dragonlands I was in two minds—the King knows darkings exist because they helped us during the Immortals War, and he was very disappointed they left afterwards, for the wrong reasons. A spy network that good is a nasty temptation for a king. But they decide for themselves what they do, and I thought they might help where I couldn't any more." An apologetic note came into her voice. "Too late for that now. By the time we could get one to Hamrkeng you're reckoning Maggur will be gone. And I'm afraid they'll be more critical for Aly than you, if we can get them to her. You don't need a farflung spy network any more, and she does, as far as Numair and I understand George's dark hints. But you can use fast communication no magecraft can stop. If you have a darking and so do lookout and corral, Quenuresh and Barzha, maybe, you'll know what they know as soon as they know it. One might be able to get into an enemy tent and eavesdrop on an attack plan. You have to look out for them—they take risks they needn't—but I trust you to do that."

Kel's mind spun and stopped. "Um, that all sounds wonderful, Daine, but if the King's there he'll notice."

"That's alright. Trick, when that happens, darkings must say that they heard about New Hope in the Divine Realms, volunteered to help, and went there directly. Don't tell him how or that there are any more of you in the mortal realm."

Trick seemed to swell and nodded. "Good trick." There were squeaks of agreement. "Others with Aly?"

"Yes. I need some of you to go with Kel to New Hope. We think there's going to be a big battle there, with mortals, basilisks, ogres, spidrens, and centaurs fighting against King Maggur, and you can help. The others will be in the Copper Isles, helping the raka to a revolution. There are"—Daine counted—"forty- … five of you, so let's say fifths. Nine of you go with Kel, and thirty-six stay here until we can get you to the Copper Isles. You choose, Trick—just be sure the nine going with Kel understand what they have to say if they meet the King."

"Only darkings here. Wanted to help. Went alone."

"Exactly. And thank you, Trick, all. I'm sorry we're rushed, but things seem to be happening fast."

"Darkings not sorry. Rush is fun. No rush in Dragonlands."

Trick's head collapsed as it rolled to the others, who clustered round, seeming to meld. Kel shook her head and Daine laughed; she was aware of draconic amusement but the children looked dazed.

"Darkings. Fun. Or rather, funfunfun. Tell me, Daine, do they know Lord Sakuyo?"

She got an urchin grin. "I'm not sure. Ask them. But you've grasped the principle. Funfunfun. " The grin faded. "But I've seen one kill by suffocating and two die for me. Ozorne made them from his blood and stormwing magic as his spies, and they rose against him. Diamondflame's right they're young—no darking's more than a dozen years old and these are younger—but they aren't simple, or children, and are volunteers."

"Full rights."

"Yes."

"What do they eat or need?"

"Anything edible you offer them, and things to do."

"Fun."

"Yes."

"Responsibility is fun?"

"Isn't it?" Daine's smile made Kel think of the Black God's. "They were made of selfishness. What's that word for Ozorne, Numair?"

"Egotistical?" Numair glanced up at Kel. "Be glad you never had the pleasure of meeting him. I only saw him briefly as a stormwing but as a mortal he was the vainest and cruellest man I've ever known."

"He didn't improve as a stormwing. And they overcame that, Kel, to live free. But what one knows, all know, and they reproduce by splitting. Their desire to help is in their blood from the ones who died for me. And they've nothing but their blood."

Kel met her eyes. "I understand, Daine. But I must get sorted. Can you tell the ones who are coming about New Hope? The situation, the war, King, Council, treaties, Haven and Blayce, me and gods—anything it might help them to know. The children can stay and chip in."

She nodded, as did Numair.

"We will, Kel." He looked thoughtful. "And you know, magelet, we should get George to do that for the others. If he knows they're going to Aly he'll keep quiet, and could help a lot with things she'll need."

"Yes, alright."

Go, Protector, do what you must. I will await you in the morning.

Kel stood. "Thank you, my Lord." A memory drifted into her mind like the echo of a laugh. "Let me leave you with a question. New Hope wouldn't exist without Skysong, and she is of it as much as any who dwell there. So are the Godborn's parents. And however it came about, the skullroad is there. Suppose we win through this roil—how then will we stand to the Dragonlands and Skysong's kin?"

I will think on it, Protector. It is a more interesting question than your king asked, and dragons are not unaware of Skysong's role.

That would be hard. Kawit's mindvoice was as dry as Kel had ever heard, and Kitten flicked her tail.

I only say what is true, Kawit. And I did not know it was important. Kel needed to stick loose rocks together and I had seen Tkaa do that.

I do not censure. It is the consequences no dragon can ignore.

Yet it is interesting so much comes from younglings, of all kinds—youngest dragon, stormwing, basilisk, and god are involved. And the eldest spidren as well as Rainbow, you, and I. Diamondflame seemed to settle though Kel didn't see him move. How do your eyes see that, Kawit?

Kel left the children to learn what they might while she slipped out, brain churning. She remembered the crowd and appreciated the King's abilities before slipping on her Yamani mask, adjusting it to an easy smile, and stepping into the sunshine.

There were so many things to do Kel was sure she'd forgotten half of them. Besides packing, she'd seen Alder and her escort, apologising for interrupting their feast. They would wait a day before heading north, to deliver notes. Alder was unimpressed, grumpily feeling outmatched as a steed, but relieved that he wouldn't be going to sea again. Brodhelm's men had been disconcerted but appreciative—she could see them thinking, It is Lady Kel—and comforted by crisp orders. Some notes were thank-yous or farewells, including one to go to the Dancing Dove, but there were letters to Lalasa, the goldsmith, and a lawyer, as well as a request to Master Randall about arrows he might have in stock or be able to make before the First left, and veterans he might know.

Roald and Shinko she'd been to see, before dinner when she might catch them alone. She wanted to thank Shinko for the shukusen and the prayer it represented, as well as reassuring both however she might. Roald's position struck her as impossible, and she didn't envy him telling his father she'd left on dragonback; he would put his weight behind her request for veterans and ensure volunteers had weapons and horses. All that was practical; but Shinko's oldest friends as well as her father-in-law were going into peril none understood and without them her Tortallan life would be a harder, more threatening proposition. Kel thought Shinko might be pregnant, and like Daine waiting to be sure. She gave her friend a speaking look, and her farewell promised to do all she could not only for Roald's father but for his children.

When hunger brought Tobe and Irnai reluctantly back, dazed with dragontalk, she took them to eat with her parents, both easier and tenser than seeing Roald and Shinko. Her father would be coming to New Hope; whether her mother would come or feel she mustn't Kel wasn't sure, but the possibility of parting was there as much as greater fears and hopes. Saving practicalities about escorts and how they should be equipped, they didn't speak of what loomed— there wasn't any point—but instead of small things and family gossip, until her mother briskly sent them to get what sleep they could.

There had been more of that for the children than Kel, who took advantage of light in

Baird's study to seek words with him. Returning to her room with the Palace falling quiet she applied herself to one last letter, to the King, that apologised for abrupt departure and anger with him but went on to what she honestly believed the state of the timeway implied about what might happen, and changing values of that might. Only the trickster gods were left out—she didn't think he'd take to Lord Sakuyo's sense of humour though he must as a commander appreciate irony— and she included her thought about Scanra and the Copper Isles as a pair, Tortall their pivot. She also gave warning she included dragons in the immortals with whom he had authorised her to treat, adding that one pressure she could think of to exert on the timeway was for him to find out if there were any official post, status, rank, anything Kawit would be minded to accept, and if so to offer it with ribbons on. A better lodging than a stable would be a start, considering she'd lived before the Thanic empire and would live long after any present realm passed into history. She folded the letter into a note for Roald, delivered it, and after a last check of what was laid out for the morning, and brief but heartfelt prayers, at last sought her bed.

They were at Kawit's stable at dawn, sweating in heavy clothing with crammed packs. A tousle-haired Daine introduced the darkings coming to New Hope: Ebony, Button, Biscuit, Petal, Iron, Seed, Scarlet, Ember, and Shale. Shaking hands wasn't practical, but Kel, Tobe, and Irnai extended fingers to feel the cool slickness of darking touch before the creatures divided into trios and flowed to coil in thick bands about their throats. The children seemed intrigued but Kel thought it uncomfortable; it did enable tiny heads to extend close to ears and, as Daine observed, would give the darkings a view while flying—an experience they declared fun. Ebony's squeak in Kel's ear was peculiar as it explained it would be her darking, Trick having selected it for that role; darkings would take getting used to, but for instantaneous communication Kel would have put up with a lot more than a cool, gripping collar and a squeak. She hugged Daine, murmuring thanks and best wishes for pregnancy, and Daine stooped to hug the children. Kitten too made farewells and, with less bouncing, Kawit, and they followed Diamondflame out, walls rippling aside.

"Fair useful, that. You should see him do it to the Hall of the Gods." Daine grinned. "See you on the other side, Kel, whenever we get there."

She didn't say what other side, and if things went ill that when might be a long time coming, but for now there was a dragon to board, somehow. Diamondflame crouched, extending one forepaw.

Seat yourselves at the base of my neck, Protector, forward of my wings. You may grasp my crest. I will not let you fall.

"Thank you, my Lord."

It felt all wrong to step onto a living limb, and Kel lifted the children cautiously onto the wide, curving scales above Diamondflame's claws before glancing up for permission to follow. He sounded amused.

You are courteous, Protector, but even in armour I would barely feel your weight. Come, let us be flying.

Gingerly she pushed herself up, walking as lightly as she could behind Irnai and Tobe. The great shoulder was an awkward scramble, and they had to turn sideways to grip scales surprisingly warm and smooth, closer to sunbaked slate than hide or horn. Diamondflame's neck was wider at his shoulders than Alder's barrel and sitting astride felt strange; for the children it was even more awkward, and the only practical arrangement turned out to be with Kel rearmost, and Tobe and Irnai where girth narrowed into neck. She could just hold Tobe's shoulders, despite his pack, he could hold Irnai the same way, and her ratcheting alarm lessened as Diamondflame eased upright and a force that could only be magic gripped her legs, holding them to the scales.

You will not fall, but brace yourselves while I take off. Ready?

She wasn't sure she ever would be but could see the children each had one hand gripping the golden crest, and forced herself to take one of her own from Tobe's shoulder to do the same. She felt scales shift as great muscles bunched and Diamondflame crouched, seeming to draw himself into compactness for a long second before springing explosively into the air. Kel would have been thrown backwards as surely as a knight popped from the saddle if she hadn't felt dragon magic hold her upright as Tobe's pack pressed against her. Vast wings snapped open faster than she could flick a fan, and a blur of downstrokes pushed the ground away. Kel's stomach lurched, echoes of her old fear flaring, but she could hear Tobe's jubilant whoop and a tiny voice in her ear.

"Fun!"

The wash of indignation and, behind it, resigned amusement got her over panic and Diamondflame's wingbeats shifted to a slower pattern. Wind grew as speed allowed the dragon to bank in a wide spiral. Kel had to swallow as land circled beneath her but there was fascination in the sprawl of the Palace. The original square stood out, with wings and annexes accumulated over successive reigns delineated by colours of roofing. Rushing air made speech impossible, but she experimentally muttered into her collar and saw tiny heads reach up to Tobe's and Irnai's ears. A moment later Ebony's squeak sounded.

"Tobe say better than stone model. Clearer. What stone model?"

The narrative of petrification and Kitten's love of lighting stone helping her keep breathing as Diamondflame's spiral carried them over the Temple District and over the Royal Forest. The horizon was expanding, the Olorun aflame in early light, hinterland stretching away. It was the beautiful heart of the realm she loved and whatever the follies of rulers she knew as purely as in her Ordeal she would fight to her last breath as often as the gods allowed that it might stand.

Wisps of cloud caught her unawares and the fogginess was disconcerting. Forward movement seemed to cease with vision, despite wind and wetness on her face, and resume as land reappeared, with a flaring light she realised must be the sea. After another loop she could see the ocean, and as they swung south a distant haze marking the desert. To the east the Olorun was a gleaming string over wrinkled patchwork. They were rising incredibly fast and the buffeting air was less satisfying to breathe, but as worry swelled the wind was cut off.

The spiral spell is at work, and we rise out of the mortal realm. My magic will hold air for you until we descend at New Hope.

Out of the mortal realm didn't sound so good to Kel but Daine and Numair had assured her that when the upward spiral topped out in a greyness Diamondflame would tip into a downward one and re-emerge into daylight wherever he wanted to be. It wasn't as if she had a choice and gripped Tobe's shoulders as land far below flickered and dissolved.


	26. Chapter 25

Governance

Part VII – Imbolc

1 – 14 February 463 HE

Chapter Twenty-Five — Governance

1 – 8 February

"What you should do, sire, is get south at a gallop. Something—probably you—has triggered Maggur's army into movement, and thanks to the Wildmage we've enough warning for you to get out. But as you've no intention of doing so there isn't much we can do but wait until Scanran forces cross the Vassa and we've a clearer idea where they're going."

Vanget's voice was a growl and Kel knew if there were space he'd be pacing. She should have felt the same way but found herself possessed by calm, not quite Lord Sakuyo's peace but touched with it. Irnai's prophecy had sunk in bone deep, and she'd been waiting ever since, convinced the war would come decisively to the Greenwoods and New Hope would be on the line; the addition of king and council to the stakes, however foolishly, had limited meaning because she could not be more committed to protecting all at risk.

It was almost dawn and they were crammed into her office. She could have taken them to the conference room, where the Council would assemble, but with a table it would have been Jonathan on one side facing his commanders on the other; cramped before her desk they necessarily formed a circle and however authority crackled it was less absolute than it might have been. The King was expending his in resistance; to assert himself would require a shift in mode he probably would have made in Corus, but not here, against a rightly exasperated haMinchi general and not in her domain. Kel had begun by relaying what Barzha and Hebakh had found—a force of at least two thousand well-equipped infantry heading slowly for a Vassa crossing mid-way between Steadfast and Mastiff. Trailsign indicated a further force had continued east when this group split off—a substantially larger army, Barzha guessed but couldn't affirm, that included cavalry and wagons. At Kel's request stormwings were following the trailsign, but low cloud extended far north so they had to fly under it to follow the road and it might be days before any further report.

Vanget, coming from the spellmirror despite the hour, had been able to add that an owl had rung the bell at Northwatch, and there had been probing attacks into haMinchi lands that had Lord Ferghal doubting how many men he could afford to detach. He had set to arguing probable intentions with no agreement save a common conviction the King should shift his royalness south, but waves of pressure had broken on Jonathan's stubborn refusal to go. Now Kel thought it was time to end it.

"Actually, Vanget, I think we do know what they're doing, though you're not going to like my reasoning."

He scowled at the King. "Don't like anything much today, Kel. Go on."

"You were all analysing Scanran forces functionally—why infantry in the west and so on. I've been thinking about other internal differences and Barzha said those infantry were regulars, so far as she could tell. And she wasn't going on equipment or the way they made camp—it was minds. I asked her what they were like by comparison with Stenmun's men, and she said there was none."

Wyldon blinked. "You asked her to read their minds?"

"Emotions. Stormwings don't mindspeak or do as the elemental does, but they feed on emotions—all emotions. They prefer fear and terror but sense them all, just as we see all food, not just food we like."

"Hang on, Kel." Raoul was frowning. "You asked her? How?"

"Stormwing magic, relaying to one still here." Kel didn't like lying, especially to Raoul, but didn't want to bring darkings into it yet. She could tell Alanna guessed the truth—she must have known about Trick meeting George—but didn't say anything. "The point is that where Stenmun's lot were dark, fierce, and empty—Barzha's words—most of these men were just soldiers. Most, not all—the command group was Stenmun -like, wanting to fight and kill. The rest were under orders. So I think we're talking about coerced forces—men like Stanar who've been ordered to fight by clanchiefs, and will, but have no heart for it—under loyalist command. And there are enough to tie down our forces at both forts, which is what I expected."

"It is?"

"It's what I'd do in Maggur's shoes if I really wanted New Hope. He knows we'll bleed him before we fall, so he's going to have to sacrifice a lot of men. He doesn't want to expend loyalists, because he'll need them afterwards, and he has a problem using coerced troops that way —they're not green, know exactly what being in the first waves will mean, and his hold over them is hostages, which buy him service, not willing suicide. So he'll have to use conscripts and whatever magepower he's got to draw our teeth, and then send his hard men to take our last shots and keep coming. Meantime the coerced forces prevent relief—it'll be more of them at Northwatch and the haMinchi lands, and their job is delay, not attack. The ones Barzha's tracking have the loyalists, whatever's in those wagons, and the conscripts, and they're heading here." She smiled faintly. "What will you bet that when Barzha finds that other force it's at least five thousand strong, with mages and immortals—giants, maybe others—and heading south on the Smiskir road? No takers? The western infantry are a detachment going slowly so they won't arrive ahead of time. They won't do much attacking. Being there's enough."

"Small comfort." Vanget was still growling. "It makes sense, I grant, Kel, but it's still speculation."

"So let's test it. Ask Lord Ferghal to scout hard and push back sharply. How many troops are harassing him? With two thousand confirmed in the west, any confirmation of five thousand or more on the Smiskir road will mean there can't be many as far east as haMinchi lands. So we'll know it's a diversion, and if I'm right that the bulk of them are coming here he'll be able to send a large enough force to relieve Northwatch and come on to us."

While Vanget was thinking about it Kel looked at the King. "Sire, I notice you haven't mentioned the forces coming from the eastern borders. How many and where are they?"

He grimaced. "Fewer and farther than I'd intended by now, Lady Keladry. There seem to have been severe delays."

"In no state to march at speed delays? Or mysteriously broken bridges delays?"

His gaze sharpened. "Both, I'm afraid. You expected that too? I made sure Runnerspring didn't know about those orders."

"Word might have leaked, but it wouldn't have had to once Maggur knew you were coming. He's doing or dying, and however vile he's not a fool. If he wins here he'll be heading south so he'll have planned to block or slow the eastern border forces. And they've dealt with little more than bandits for a decade so it's no wonder they can't pack up and march at the speed you hoped. Frankly, sire, it's the same mistake you once made with the Own's First." Her tone was thoughtful but there was a nasty silence. "We just have to make sure it doesn't have the same results, and we need to be about it. They'll all be waiting by now."

"Who'll be waiting, Kel?" Raoul fed her the line, voice ironic.

"Everyone. It's Imbolc morning, and I'm not going to begin slighting the gods now. The Councillors were woken a half-hour back and we're expected. After that there's a would-be fief to inspect, in the first place physically—Turomot looked up procedure for me and we shan't be skimping. But gods come first."

The King might have objected but Alanna steered him out, and the others let Kel herd them after; she could tell Wyldon was suppressing a smile and Raoul wasn't bothering to, though Vanget was still fretting. The scene outside sobered them all, for everyone was assembled save skeleton watches, with the best part of nine companies drawn up as well as more than a hundred other soldiers, escorts and veterans; civilians and immortals massed round them—but it wasn't just the sight that impressed, or even the Stone Tree Nation on the roofs despite Barzha's and Hebakh's absence. New Hopers had, understandably, come to take the gods' propitiation earnestly, and the combination of blunt belief and imminent action had pervaded visiting companies. The scale and nature of New Hope, the presence of immortals as well as stories of visiting dragons and griffins, had worked on them, and the arrival of the King-in-Council followed by assembly with massed immortals had tipped them into a different mode; there was a mix of expectation, excitement, dread, and resolution rising from the crowd that visibly hit the King and slapped Vanget from his preoccupation. Only Kel was unaffected and slipped through as they paused, not quite voluntarily, to take Alanna's place and steer Jonathan forward herself.

Imbolc was the ewes' milk festival, first sign of imminent spring lambs, and the sacrifice was eight tiny glasses the shepherds had coaxed from bleating mothers-to -be. Three stood with Adner and the senior cowherd, pigherd, poulterer, and seedman. Yamani custom dictated nursing women should add a sacrifice of milk, and Yuki had been determined to do so; nursing Tortallan women decided they liked the idea, and all were with Yuki on the terrace. Numbers were awkward, but as well as the glasses of individual milk each bore, Yuki and Ma Stockman carried second glasses and Kel would pour a seventh, larger glass for Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady that had been jointly filled. It had been a peculiar process but for Kel moving, confronting her with her desire to nurse a child in peace.

The Councillors were grouped to the left of the shrines, and Kel saw degrees of wonder on all faces, even Runnerspring's. He stood apart, flanked by guards, and scowled at her, but habitual disapproval didn't conceal his apprehension as he felt the force of the crowd and their reaction to her appearance. Others were openly staring, trying to take in what was happening, and Turomot had an expression that struck her instantly as fierce approval though she didn't know of what. Only those who'd stood at New Hope's shrines before—her father, Baird, and Terres—were unsurprised and composed in piety.

"Will you join your Councillors, sire? And you your fellows, my Lords, my Lady?"

"Of course, Lady Keladry." Jonathan of Conté looked at her through the shell of his kingship. "Have I any part to play?"

"Only to give thanks and pray, sire, unless you wish to speak." "Do you think I should?"

She gauged words. "I believe you would be better advised to learn New Hope's temper first, sire. The time for you to speak is not come."

"As you will, my Lady."

She doubted his complaisance would last but welcomed it and escorted him to the forefront of the guests, then strode to the centre before the shrines, calling Tobe and Irnai from where they'd been waiting with the immortals. What children represented mattered more than anything today and she meant to keep it that simple.

"New Hope, and all who have come here in our need, we stand at a turning-point. Samhain is the festival of the dead, when we look back, honouring what has been. Imbolc is the festival of the unborn, and we look forward, honouring what will be." She drew the children close. "We face a battle and have fears, but today we look beyond them with hope, to the world the lambs and our children will know, and even in our fear pray not for ourselves but for them. The Goddess, Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, all the gods, have given us great bounty, and we thank them for it, asking it may continue for all the young of New Hope."

She and the children went to stand with the shepherd who would give ewe's milk to the Goddess, smiling reassurance at his nervousness. As he poured out the little glassful they bowed, hands on hearts, sensing everyone move with them, king or convict; chimes rang. Once the sound faded they went silently to Adner, standing before Lord Mithros's shrine, and to the others as the ceremony was repeated. When the senior poulterer, a greying woman from Goatstrack whom hens actually seemed to obey in some measure, and the seedman had poured together for Weiryn and the Green Lady, Kel motioned the nursing mothers forward. She received the glass she needed for herself from Ma Stonecutter and knelt, setting it carefully down and spreading her arms.

"High Ones, none can tell what will come to pass on the timeway. We know not all can survive but have done all we can to prepare, and believe we serve you as you would be served. I do not ask today for my safety, nor that of any adult—we make the troubles of the mortal realm and must abide them—but I do ask you all, by mothers' milk and all we have endured, to guard our children whatever may befall."

She gathered the glass, rose, and went forward with all the women. At the ends of the line Yuki touched milk to Lord Sakuyo's lips before pouring for him, then the Black God, and Ma Stockman poured for Lords Shakith and Gainel, while Ma Farmer and Ma Stonecutter poured for Lord Mithros and the Goddess. Each did so in a silence that grew deeper by the second, but when Kel poured for Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, thinking of their joy in daughter and granddaughter, their shrines blazed with silver that did not blind her and all the great gods' voices sounded in a brief, deafening burst of sound within which each was yet distinct—battlecry and hounds, far hawks, soughing wind, and twining laughter. The release of tension was palpable and spread to the visiting troops and astonished veterans standing with Dom's company as the nursing mothers returned to husbands and babies. Kel watched Neal hand Yuki a beaming Ryokel, noticing no infant seemed disturbed by the sounds, and turned to King and Council; there was fear in Runnerspring's face and wonder in everyone's, though Alanna managed a wink.

"The ceremony is ended, sire, my Lords and Lady, so breakfast awaits, and then we must be about our business of inspection. His Grace of Wellam tells me tradition dictates we begin with

outlying structures and dwellings, circling in, so once we've eaten we will proceed to Spidren Wood where Quenuresh and Aldoven will meet us."

Kel had spent an interesting hour discussing with her father the niceties of the fact that as a Councillor she would be inspecting her own putative fief and existing military command. In other circumstances she would have recused herself, but had every intention of using her double position to maintain as much control as possible; as they were, it made urgent sense to undertake the part of the inspection outside the walls as rapidly as possible. Runnerspring might have objected had he been in any position to do so, and she'd planned to stick closely to the precedents Turomot's clerks had dug out to restrict his room for manoeuvre. Alanna had the King moving as Kel finished speaking, and she would have fallen in with her father, towards the rear of the party and well behind Runnerspring and his guards, if Turomot hadn't gravely offered his arm. He was ahead of Runnerspring and Kel hadn't wanted those eyes boring into her back but accepted his arm with a smile, feeling the weight he rested on her as he descended the steps.

"I wished to say, my Lady, that I thought that a fine ceremony even before the gods spoke. I was minded of words I once read to you about a knight's duty to all the realm." He fell silent, marshalling a thought. "I offered to be your second instructor because I care for sanctity of ritual and feared there were those who would disrupt it if they dared." His glance under lowered brows was keen. "And many were uncertain about you, as you must know, not trusting the Chamber as I did, nor my Lord of Cavall's assertion that you were the outstanding page of his tenure. Your qualities as a commander became evident long since, and I was content to have served the realm in instructing you. This morning I find myself proud to have done so."

Involuntarily her hand tightened on his arm. "It means a great deal to me that you say so, Your Grace." She swallowed. "I never desired to upset people, only to be a knight."

"And that may require setting people by the ears, as may rightful command." His voice dropped. "Do you truly believe Lord Carolan has sold himself to Maggur?"

"I do, Your Grace, though he will not have thought of it so. And Genlith and probably Torhelm."

"What can they hope to gain?"

"Power, but they'll have told themselves they're saving the Tortall they suppose themselves to believe in." She shrugged. "Lady Alanna thinks it goes back to support for Duke Roger and Princess Josiane."

He frowned, wrinkles on wrinkles. "That may be. But you sound as if you disagree."

"Not really, Your Grace, but my thoughts tend more to the erosion of relative privilege in a greater realm. King Jasson begot this problem when he conquered but did not truly settle the north, and it has grown ever since. It is also riding on events far older of which I am ignorant, save that they involve gods, dragons, and timeway. Whatever he believes, Runnerspring is a pawn in greater games than he has ever understood."

"After this morning I believe that, my Lady. And your thoughts run true, I fear—the southern and eastern lords have long used the Bloody Throne as a check on the north, preserving their wealth, and I can imagine Lord Carolan believing he yet does so."

Quiet as it was there was pain in his voice, as there had been in Wyldon's contemplating the treason of men he knew, but when they reached the messhall he spoke with conscious cheer. "We return to this splendid hall, my Lady." She let him hold the doors for her, returning the irony in his eyes with her own. "These pillars are truly godlit?"

"Lord Weiryn's gift. They tell the story of Haven and New Hope, Your Grace, where we must begin after we have eaten."

The excellence of the food had struck all first-time visitors at dinner, like the pillars and carvings, but in the shadow of Runnerspring's failure at the Honesty Gate and the hawk ringing the bell conversation had been subdued. By morning light, after the manifest blessing of the ceremony, even Runnerspring's guarded presence couldn't inhibit them and they chattered like children, offering pious or wary congratulations and questions by the volley. Her father, Alanna, and Terres intercepted many and she answered some, but what was needed was a briefing and as the flow of food slackened she sent up a prayer and stood.

Kel had considered the Eyrie with New Hope spread below, but there wasn't really room, and starting Turomot's or Nond's day with more than five hundred feet of steps wouldn't be wise. Dom had suggested using the pillars instead, and though Kel didn't like the way the panels exaggerated her role she'd been persuaded she couldn't modestly claim a fief. And the panels did tell the story she wanted in people's minds, for New Hope had risen from fallen Haven—which had not proven safe, as it should have. What was proposed as a fief had been profoundly shaped by her response to those facts, and as her fief those priorities would remain, so Councillors must understand what they were actually voting about. However murky his motives Runnerspring hadn't been wrong in principle, and she said so as Heliana distributed maps of the Greenwoods valley from Great North Road to Spidren Wood.

"Sire, my Lords and Lady, our morning's business is to visit Quenuresh but we will make a stop on the way, at what was once the home of many living here and is now our burial ground. And how that came to be matters, so if you'll follow me?"

Kel had imagined the inspection taking two days, but things intertwined to stretch it to a week. The King was in no hurry, and Maggur, who was, was slowed by heavy rain, wagons bogging on the ill-maintained Smiskir Road. Barzha and Hebakh found him there, as Kel predicted—a force estimated at eight thousand, with a score of giants, cavalry, regulars, conscripts, and a core of three thousand men who tasted to stormwings like Stenmun's soldiers; at Pakkai corner a thousand regulars carried on for Northwatch while the bulk turned east for the Vassa crossing nearest New Hope—where more would split off for Giantkiller. Having travelled that trail Kel knew how slow wagons would be as the sodden surface became poached. Giants would help, but it would be a while before they could cross the Vassa, and even Vanget had a grim satisfaction in the muddy picture Kel painted from Barzha's reports.

He'd become resigned, accepting the board was in motion and would have to play out. The western Scanran forces had scouts across the river, and without crossing into Tortall were effectively pinning the companies at Steadfast and Mastiff. In the east Lord Ferghal was sure that what he actually faced was a small number of good irregular cavalry striking hard at the most vulnerable targets they could find but not staying to fight. He had to leave his own best cavalry to respond, but knowing it as a gambit meant it could be refused and four thousand haMinchi troops were assembling to march hard for Northwatch once it was besieged. They and ten companies from its garrison would be the relieving forces for Giantkiller and New Hope, and if they could catch Maggur in the valley and close its southern end at the Great North Road … That thought had Vanget rubbing hands, but rain slowed Tortallans as well as Scanrans and there would be at least ten days, probably more, for New Hope to hold out.

Within the hiatus the inspection remorselessly expanded. Keeping Councillors together was like herding cats but they responded to Kel's adherence to tradition and became genuinely absorbed. Macayhill began it when, white and sweating, he bowed jerkily to Quenuresh and opened conversation about his fief's spidrens. Kel drew in Turomot on legalities, and her father on discussions with Vorgitarl, and others found themselves unwilling to miss anything, despite severe apprehensions. Kel had to admit the King had been magnificent, not showing a single tremor in greeting spidren leaders with royal courtesy, and implacable in introducing Councillors. Watching him, Kel found Alanna beside her.

"How's he doing that, d'you suppose? He's none too keen on spiders, and I thought he'd be sweating cobs."

"I don't know, Alanna. I'd expected the same. Unless … the elemental showed him Quenuresh when it showed New Hope. I bet he went back and asked it to stand him next to her for practice."

"Huh, that's a thought. I'll find out."

"Don't. Leave him the edges he has."

Alanna's look became a stare. "You are getting wise in your old age. Who've you been talking to about Jon?"

"Besides you? Thayet and Vanget."

"Heh. Good choices." Purple eyes rested on Kel. "In a way you've got him where you want him, haven't you?"

"He has himself where I will want him, assuming we both live through it. Tell me, would I be right to assume you and George met some new friends of Daine's?"

"You would. She told me you'd enlisted help."

"Yes. Myself, my captains, Fanche, Quenuresh, Barzha, and Var'istaan are in immediate contact. The others made it to Aly?"

"They will shortly. Tkaa's gone to Rajmuat."

"And you've no problem saying nothing to the King? Or to Jon?"

"None at all. Too big a temptation for both and a distraction besides. We'd better join the

fray."

By the time discussions wound down it was too late to do more that day and a very deliberate pace was set. A second day was spent going to meet Whitelist and looking at ogre-terraced slopes, where a formidable knack for dry-stone walling had the agriculturally minded asking serious questions. Scepticism led to swift demonstration of dry-stone arches and Kel gave up hope of moving on that day. At the same time she was kicking herself for having managed to categorise the ogres' role as brute labour, and offered Kuriaju an apology and an enquiry about ogre interest in architectural design.

The party was heavily guarded but Barzha confirmed no Scanrans had yet crossed the Vassa north of New Hope. Kel let Ettenor supply three squads—it was the First's formal responsibility to guard His Majesty's person—but deployed all of Mikal's men, leaving the alures light. Northwatch Fourteenth were honed to a fine edge and on their mettle, so snap and efficiency were overt but they sought to integrate the men of the First. Mikal still had them practicing archery

and slingwork in rotation, at marked ranges, and during those days she saw more than one Councillor look thoughtful at the accuracy demonstrated. The one alarm was also an impressive demonstration, when Cloestra reported a small group of mortals approaching under the trees. It turned out to be itinerant trappers, but the instant response of Mikal's men, needing no orders, spoke volumes. Interestingly, the trappers had learned of the King's presence from one of Aldoven's kin, whom they'd been meeting to discuss furs spidrens had no use for, and evidence of peaceful contact with treaty-bound spidrens was a powerful argument.

So were the trappers themselves, representing something southern lords had not seen for a long time, if ever. In the drier east, where fiefs clustered on tributaries of the Drell, and the Hurdik speakers of the badlands between were as driven to raiding as Scanrans, people of what Tortallans thought wilderness were known as trouble. In the wealthier, heavily settled belt south of Corus such marginal lifestyles barely existed, and the hostility of eastern lords to those they'd dispossessed was taken as true report, so Kel rammed home a lesson in loyal poverty. In Runnerspring her words roused only familiar contempt, but in the eyes of Disart, Nond, and Macayhill she saw bigotry found wanting against the evidence of carefully stitched clothing, neatly plaited hair, self-reliance, personal pride mingled with respect and curiosity. Riding back to New Hope the King came alongside.

"That was very impressive, Lady Keladry. I shouldn't be surprised any more at your forceful education of my Councillors, but I am."

"Good." He blinked and she gave him a smile she almost meant. "You didn't expect a smooth ride while Lord Sakuyo's dancing, did you, sire? The best jokes always catch the jokers."

"Explain, please. If you would."

"I'm not sure I can. It's not just Yamani thinking, it's … I don't know, a way of living with what I know without screaming."

"Useful." He was serious, but so was Kel. "In any case, thank you. You've opened eyes. Thayet and I will be able to build on that."

"Yes, you will. But you could do with a new architect, sire. Did Her Majesty talk to you about the lesson of the self-defence classes?"

"If you mean teaching women to defend themselves rather than trying to guard them." He frowned. "You connect that to the trappers?"

"They don't want charity or to be supervised, nor to dwell in a nice, safe city, but they do want to be able to better themselves. Which is impossible while the Guilds restrict membership to rich middlemen and make sure profit never comes to those it depends on. Talk to Idrius Valestone —he'll be bending the others' ears this evening."

"My power over the guilds is limited."

Kel swallowed exasperation. "So try influence, sire. You can throw royal weight behind the Craftsbeings' Guild, and endorse a co-operative, profit distributing model. Or must that wait on Roald and Shinko?"

"Ouch." His quizzical rue made Kel like him more than for a long while. "Why did anyone think you reticent, my Lady? Have you always taken that Yamani mask off like this in private?"

That was a good question, Kel thought. "Not really. Even with friends I was guarded—too

much so, looking back, but I had no command to offset being The Girl and no grasp of the politics that comes even with friendship when everyone's looking at you."

"I know about that one. But you have that grasp now, by Mithros."

"No—by the Black God, the Hag, and the Goddess. And Lord Sakuyo's laughter. And by you, who have thrice given me no choice but to grasp it, like the wrong end of a morningstar."

When he met her eyes he was flushed. "I deserve that, as Thayet told me. The first time was your probation?" She nodded. "And Torhelm and now? With Rathhausak in there too, though Haven wasn't my doing in the same way?"

"More or less, sire, but it doesn't matter. It may again, if you and I both survive what's coming. But we can cross that bridge when we must." She thought she heard a hawk cry but nothing was visible and New Hope was close. "And forgive me, but Her Majesty said I should if necessary order three soldiers to sit on you to prevent you exposing yourself foolishly to combat. Am I going to have to?"

He laughed. "No, I promise. Thayet gave me that lecture at great length. Shinko was worse, and I will be good."

He went on being so, and Kel was easier when the inspection moved within the walls. If anyone had told her a tour of New Hope could take two days she'd have thought them drunk, but when it took fully half-an -hour to reach the Eyrie, and the visit produced from an incredulous Vanget peering though a spyglass a demand to know how in Tortall she'd built an abatis on top of a cliff, things didn't speed along. She hadn't anticipated that many Councillors would regard the hoist to the clifftop as a toy and be eager to try it. The ogres had taken to the device, fixing wheels to the side of the platform nearest the rock and doing something clever with pulleys that had had carpenters taking careful notes. Even so, with two soldiers hoisting at most three Councillors it would take for ever; muttering 'funfunfun' and hearing a squeak of amused agreement, Kel asked Kuriaju if the ogres might provide muscle power, which meant four Councillors rising faster at shorter intervals. It also meant she had no excuse not to go up herself, a journey she'd sincerely hoped never to make again. When she joined the Council peering at the abatis—even here Runnerspring had guards—her tight stomach made her brusque in explaining, but the silence when she finished restored her good humour. When the King warily asked if she could expand on 'then he trimmed the crags' she led them to a vantage point, sliding her arm through Turomot's to lend him support on the awkward slope, and pointed out what Diamondflame had done.

"Just like Lady Skysong lighting rock, for those who've seen that, but a lot more oomph." She grinned at Numair. "Diamondflame said he was sorry she missed the show. Did he say anything back in Corus?"

The mage grinned back. "He did, Kel." His hands moved against his black robe. "Kitten was very jealous."

And had, Kel realised, seen a darking show of events. "So she should be. It was fun."

"Lots." Numair's eyes were mischievous. "I'm jealous myself. Was he supporting himself magically when he pulled trees out of the landslip?"

"Oh yes. He perched to do the crags, but just hovered for that." "I knew stormwings could but wasn't sure about dragons." "Live and learn, eh?"

"It's all very well you and Numair joking, Lady Knight, but why should that dragon do such a thing for you? It's a horribly powerful and dangerous beast and you speak of it as a friend."

"For me, Lord Carolan? Not so—or only in part, as one who cares for Lady Skysong's interests. Dragons are unfailingly conscientious about their obligations, I find." She doubted he felt the shot but others did. "As to your insinuation, I'd hesitate myself to presume on the friendship of a being so superior, but gladly acknowledge his kindness. I believe Lord Diamondflame's concern was for the griffins, whom he recognises as kin, for our agreement regarding defence of the cliffs was compromised by the landslip, and they appealed for assistance in keeping its letter. Griffins are particular that way. And while I doubt this will assuage your contempt for a being who has lived more centuries than you have years, Lord Diamondflame said dragons' interests here were aligned with gods', a rare event since the Godwars." She gestured to the formidable, cragged escarpment Diamondflame had left. "And what does it matter? If the dragons desired to harm us none but gods could stop them—but why should they? Lord Diamondflame fought alongside us before, and visits Corus in peace. Now he has gifted New Hope protection in its need, and you suspect his motives? I am reminded, Lord Carolan, of why you alone stand under guard—that you could not honestly say you meant none at New Hope harm. Should I think you want it to fall?" He hadn't seen it coming and she took the moment. "If I send the guards away, so you stand here with only your King and peers to hear, will you speak truly? What was your liegeman doing at Tirrsmont, and what harm do you wish whom here?" She was aware of pressure somewhere. "I do not think you will have another chance to step back from the brink you stand on."

He didn't hear the hawk crying over the fin. "I don't answer to you."

"You answer to us collectively, Runnerspring, as we all do." Nond's voice was sharp. "And Mindelan's questions are good ones."

"You also answer to the law, my Lord, however little you like it." Turomot sounded bleak. "And you answer to Us, Lord Carolan."

"I have nothing to answer, sire." His bitterness was evident. "I trust no silver-clawed monster, and I wish the Lady Knight and the whoredom she represents to the deeps of the sea."

Kel swiftly raised a hand at his guards' movements. "Easy, lads. Sticks and stones. He'll answer to the Black God when his time comes. And meantime you stick close."

"Lady Kel." They fell again to usual alertness, faces hard.

"Thank you. Hate me as you will, Lord Carolan, you'll keep a civil tongue in my command or be gagged. The offer was truly made, and truly spurned. Don't ever tell us you had no choice."

For once she blessed Junior as he swooped down to see what the mortals were about. He was wary of the noble crowd but when she stood apart landed to trot over with a squawk, and she knelt to scratch his head.

"They're admiring your parents' and Lord Diamondflame's work."

He seemed satisfied, preening, and kept pace with the platform twice as it carried Councillors down again before circling away to see what else might be happening. Kel distracted herself on the way down by travelling with the King and Vanget, explaining that once arrows were flying His Majesty's place would be in—she had the ogre pause—the lookout, there; the platform would be waiting by the overhang.

"You can see what's happening, and to use the Dominion Jewel if you must, but you're sheltered from just about anything. If the walls are breached we should be able to hold the caves, and if we can't the platform will get you to the clifftop. Unship it behind you or cut the ropes and nothing that doesn't fly can get you. Stormwings will take you wherever you decide."

"How?"

"Net. It needs multiple carriers. Ask Numair—he and Daine did it in the Divine Realms. Lady Maura's done it too, I believe."

"Very well." He scowled. "More promises to Thayet?" "And Shinko and Roald. And the realm."

"Quite right, Kel." Vanget's scowl was fiercer. "And you, sire, you've got me grateful for stormwing aid, so you heed what you're told. If it happens, get to Ferghal—he can get you south."

"Yes, yes."

Kel said no more, and with everyone down there was time only for the gatehouse, western alures, and north tower before the greyness of Nond's face made a stop at the infirmary sensible. While Yuki, carrying a burbling Ryokel, showed them around, Neal and Baird saw to the elderly lord, and Kel resigned herself with incredulity to a two-day tour.

Next day she dealt with the remainder of the buildings as briskly as she dared, pausing only over wood and craft shops serving as the Guild's main workplace. Even there she didn't linger, forestalling questions with a promise that the matter of the Guild would be tackled in due course. But the cave system consumed the morning, and heading for the corral after lunch Geraint's bridge occasioned a full hour's delay while sweating guards were obliged to demonstrate it no less than four times. Wyldon didn't help by bringing in his ravine-bridge, and when Raoul added the portcullis-and-drawbridge system it served only to shift them from watching one to watching the other with equal fascination. Funfunfun, apparently, especially the portcullis, and regarding them as children helped Kel's patience. At least Nond and Turomot could sit, and others were attracted by the design of barbican and killing field, then by realisation that a third of the men on duty were mage-marked convicts and the rest included their escorts and variously injured veterans.

Kel spoke to the Mindelan men on duty, and could hear other lords receiving positive reports from their own troops. Dom didn't need to expound his defences—his men did it for him, on the alures and in the stableblock, where massed horseflesh—with a proprietary Peachblossom adorned with sparrows and accompanied by Jump—had Wyldon looking as happy as Kel had seen him for a while. The assembled warhorses made a formidable squadron, and the sally force's three hundred represented a careful selection. With all the visitors there were another hundred horses stalled here, some high-bred for riding rather than war, and a bustling set of ostlers and duty soldiers tending them, but Peachblossom ruled this domain with a strong sense of duty. Kel did catch him eyeing Runnerspring, and stood scratching his poll until the gelding snorted and slobbered on her shoulder.

"The day's coming, boy. Soon now."

Her voice was soft but Dom, who knew that look of Peachblossom's, heard her. "Problem, Kel?"

"Nothing new, Dom. We'll see."

She hadn't seen him privately since the Councillors arrived, her evenings tied up with individual meetings they sought to canvass her views on various matters, practical or abstract. She understood that she was also being inspected, but pursuit of the refugees had made her priorities and character clear, and after a while she realised they already accepted her as a power in the realm but wanted detail on the map. With the physical inspection complete attention turned to people, but things didn't speed up. She'd arranged for those willing to become her liegers to present themselves to the Council on the terrace—but she'd been thinking of former Havenites and a few more among recent arrivals. It didn't work out like that, initially because she had to arrange rotating relief for almost all the convicts, each careful to make the caveat concerning further service they would owe the army in peacetime. Uinse and Dom made declarations and were joined by a surprising—to her—number of Brodhelm's and Mikal's men, with more from among the fifty-odd veteran volunteers. Their presence had been another issue that set thoughtful looks in Vanget's and Wyldon's faces, and the mixed forces in the corral had focused the question even for non-military Councillors. The first veterans' straightforward answers as to why they had come to New Hope brought direct enquiry from Nond, and Kel shrugged.

"It's my duty to guard His Majesty and all of you here, my Lord, and I did not have the men to do so against substantial attack. Our resources are stretched on this border, so in addition to the companies transferred for the occasion I recruited where I could."

"Hmph. These men are saying they expect to fight. And soon." "Of course they do, my Lord. So should you."

Nond subsided to chew on it, glancing poisonously at Runnerspring, and Raoul leant forward cheerfully.

"Out of interest, Kel, are they being paid?"

"Expenses and a small purse, my Lord."

"And who's covering that?"

"The Crown Prince and me."

The King raised a hand. "I shall be reimbursing Lady Keladry."

"I believe you've already made a contribution, sire, through your quartermasters. Veterans do have a way with them."

The King's smile was austere but she could see Jonathan's behind it, and commanders were grinning, as were veterans. "Even so, Lady Keladry. Your appeal to these men was well thought on, and what you say about capacities We have neglected is on the agenda of Our Army Council."

That she gave the thanks it deserved and the point was developed in testimony veterans gave as Councillors fired what they thought tough questions about disability. Dom was present, listening with captain's ears to men he commanded, but his professional mask dissolved as he found himself commended in unusual terms. Kel's lesson about ramps had sunk deep, and he'd been thorough in accommodating what he could and being ruthless about realities. The one-eyed archer had a position hard by the corral gatehouse, where his blind side was protected and rate of fire at a premium. The men with gammy legs no worse than Dom's had places on the alures, and in four cases he'd paired men so each guarded the other's weakened side; men whose lameness was more severe had been assigned stations in stables or tunnel to free haler men of the Second. A man with a hook instead of a hand could still pull the pin that would drop the portcullis in

emergency—no slippy, sweaty fingers to worry about, as he observed—and all the men with lesser disabilities, or who had retired as age caught up with them, added trained bows and swords.

The veterans were followed by immortals, connecting next morning to Idrius's presentation concerning the Guild. Most civilian lords were highly doubtful of its structure but Kel was blunt about the twofold purpose, protecting immortals and ensuring revenues were distributed, not hoarded. Turomot probed legalities, declaring them unorthodox but permissible, and her father added the foundation of a Mindelan branch, commenting on the role visible, consistent fairness played in making a treaty possible. Disart played into Kel's hands with a querulous complaint about the greed of New Hope in hogging revenues from immortal products and she felt her temper snap taut.

"In so far as it happens at all, the present mechanism for transferring wealth from rich south to poor north is warfare. How much has this one cost so far, sire?"

The King blinked. "About a million gold nobles."

"And you buy coffins and pensions. Instead of complaining, my Lord, try being grateful someone is trying to find an alternative that supplies you with insulation, stoneware, and icelights instead of dead bodies and increased taxes."

She saw him stiffen with outrage but the king and others had been equally struck by wider vista and new argument, and to her father's amusement Kel proceeded to explain exactly how systematic retention of profit from northern trade in Corus led to the periodic need to expend millions of nobles preventing Scanrans rectifying things their own way. Master Orman had supplied her with a range of facts to volley, and when observations about Scanran economy were questioned she whistled up Stanar and his fellows to expound the reality. The King was by then as amused as the military commanders and those who understood the north, but genuinely interested to hear from Scanran rank-and-file, while Stanar and his friends seemed to feel that after Lady Kel had arrived by dragon having the Tortallan king interrogate them was no more than prisoners in fairyland might expect.

Concerned for Adner, who had been waiting his turn for six days, Kel swept on to food. Genlith's shipments had to be mentioned but she did so neutrally, evidence of Scanran need, moved to the divine blessings New Hope had received, and let Adner roll out impressive production figures and yields he believed the valley could sustain if fully cultivated. Those came as a shock, and if ogre-style terracing could be extended in the parallel valleys as well as along the Greenwoods New Hope could become a net food exporter on a considerable scale.

"And that food will mostly go north, my Lords. Bluntly, hungry Scanrans won't stay in Scanra but better fed ones may. King Jasson pushed too many people too far north into land that's too marginal. New Hope can make a difference, and getting the Vassa flats properly cultivated on both sides has to be a priority."

More blinkered Councillors who'd managed to suppose until they arrived that they were undertaking a formality had realised as soon as they met Quenuresh that far more was at stake, but Kel wasn't sure that even the King had grasped what she would be seeking to do with New Hope, and men like Terres and Harailt, though supportive, had tended to think in terms of what she'd do and mean in Corus. But Vanget, holding his brother's proxy, Wyldon, Alanna, Raoul, Ennor, her father, and Numair had realised that giving her power in the north and expecting her to grow fat on it in Corus was foolish. Kel hadn't asked for power but if they insisted on giving it she would use it as she saw fit, and a fief in the middle of this border was an obligation to tackle the problem systematically. New Hope had reconfigured the defences, other realities had to flow into place, and if all the King-in-Council wanted was the status quo they could whistle for yesterday. She said so bluntly, leaving them no room to claim they hadn't known what they would be getting if

they made her Keladry of New Hope, and managed a good exit line when Brodhelm appeared, politely indicating he needed a word.

"Duty calls, sire, my Lords and Lady, so I must ask you to excuse me. But the question's simple—thinking of all the realm, not only our own parts of it, do we want a New Hope? Or will old and selfish cynicism do?" She looked at Runnerspring, who sneered back. "Lord Carolan can tell you about that."

The collective wince made him drop his eyes but not before she'd seen fear and some very different hope from her own. Kel was increasingly puzzled by what he expected to happen, even supposing he trusted Maggur's word, but Brodhelm's business was confirmation from Barzha that the Scanran force had begun to cross the Vassa, and revealed powerful magecraft— red-robe at least—in constructing a bridge of lashed boats. They would be across more quickly than Kel had thought, and with better roads on the Tortallan side would be at New Hope in two days; Barzha and Hebakh would check on the western force before returning, and Kel asked Cloestra to monitor the larger force's progress. Without the Eyrie they'd have needed to post human scouts too, but with wagons, giants, and that many men the Scanrans would be on the road, and there was more risk than gain in putting anyone outside the safety of the walls. All livestock was in, and there wasn't a great deal to do but Kel did start Brodhelm and other captains on final checks and battening-down. Then she went to tell the King-in-Council who was coming to call.

A grim Council spent the next day in closed session discussing boundaries. Kel recused herself, having refused Runnerspring's demand his guards be excluded. "You wish New Hope harm, Lord Carolan, carried an incapacitating poison, and a powerful enemy nears our gates. You go nowhere without guards."

Disart and Macayhill might have objected but Vanget's emphatic agreement and the King's clear disinclination to countermand her order made them think better of it. Neither in law nor by custom was she obliged to recuse herself, and imminent Scanrans concentrated minds wonderfully on demands of security. Kel was curious as to what they might think an appropriate size, and if they'd be willing to exceed the natural boundaries of the valley, but was finding it hard to think beyond the coming battle and knew her perspective afterwards would be very different. In any case, the King seemed to think it helpful if she gave them space to debate, and there was much else she should be doing.

She spent the morning virtuously clearing paperwork not even imminent battle seemed to avert and speaking to visiting troops. By lunchtime she'd had enough virtue and as soon as the Council returned to its deliberations made her way to the corral. By strange coincidence Dom was off duty, his sitting-room faced the cliff, it had been too long and danger was close. To be naked with him in daylight, knowing other people were close by, was startlingly different and they found an intensity that filmed them with sweat. Wanting more, she understood the desperate affirmation in the sweetness, and blindly moving above him didn't mind her tears; nor did he ask, holding and kissing her as they dried. It might be dereliction but it left her relaxed and honed again, rebalanced after days of political prudence and persuasion, and the fluid, precise speed of her pattern dance next morning won knowing looks from Yuki and Alanna as well as the latter's whistling admiration.

She could draw on that inner calm for the day's business, which was, ridiculously, the

actual Imbolc session. There were boundary disputes, extensions where new ground had been broken, and an oddity involving a man who had left the same fields to at least three people in as many contradictory and unwitnessed wills—and though all had clear recommendations from Duke Gareth based on investigation, and the only full set of papers to have come north was hers, it was right that each be addressed properly. Formal votes took time, the oddity was a hopeless tangle, and it wasn't until late morning they came to the heading New Fief. The atmosphere tightened as the king sat forward.

"My Lords, my Ladies, be clear we are deciding two matters in principle—whether New Hope should become a fief and if so whether Lady Keladry be considered liegelady designate. I remind you her application has yet to be formally lodged, and that after your varied advice yesterday I made no decision about boundaries. But given that we face imminent battle I make clear I am not today considering what guerdon may be due Lady Keladry in respect of her astonishing service during this war as a soldier and diplomat to immortals. All else aside, that service continues, and its proper guerdon increases daily."

Kel didn't care for the sound of that but wasn't going to argue until there was something to argue with, and nodded thanks with her Yamani mask. She was sure her father and Raoul suppressed smiles; what the King or anyone else but Runnerspring thought she couldn't guess.

"So. I am happy to tell you, Lady Keladry, that I took advantage of your absence yesterday to register votes, and with a single exception in each case my Councillors agreed New Hope should become a fief, and be yours. We add a formal statement of warm, not to say astonished congratulation on all you have created here." Kel's stomach tightened. "Frankly, my Lady, even knowing you and New Hope have the gods' blessings this week has been a revelation and, for all but one who had not been here before, a humbling experience." Runnerspring's face was immobile but the King was smiling ruefully. "The power you have forged here is palpable, and ennoblement will be a formality. The reality exists, with what is already a fief in all but name."

Kel wasn't touching that with a long stick, and he wasn't done.

"We will also issue a directive to all Our liegelords, under Crown powers of treaty, requiring them to seek agreements with all immortals in their domains, on the model of your treaties here, and until laws can be passed to that effect We mandate by royal fiat that trade in all and any goods produced by immortals, or with immortal power and aid, shall be the exclusive purview of the Craftsbeings' Guild. Reciprocally, We direct you, as acting Guildmaster, to assist Our liegelords in obeying Us swiftly as best you may."

That would drive thoroughgoing change and all except Runnerspring seemed to endorse it

… the enormity of what the week had achieved rushed in on Kel. Could Runnerspring's intentions have been reversed any more comprehensively? Yet his face didn't suggest awareness of utter defeat, and no decision meant much until implemented—but unless New Hope fell this one would be, and the image in her mind was of the timeway narrowing, another set of possible futures falling away and events that would be redistributing themselves while Lord Sakuyo laughed and laughed. Did her father hear him? Or the King?

"The timeway rejoices." She didn't know she'd spoken aloud until she saw Jonathan's puzzlement but her attention was arrested by a horn-call from the Eyrie and as it flicked upwards at the end she was on her feet. "Excuse me, that needs investigating. Vanget, no-one leaves until I return."

The door had swung shut behind her before anyone spoke and then it was Runnerspring, in a jeer. "So she gives you orders, Vanget? And thinks you can give them to all of us?"

Vanget kept his temper though his burr thickened. "She commands here, Runnerspring, if you haven't noticed—and everyone who outranks her is here as her guest, not in chain of command. Besides, in her shoes I'd give the same order—she's responsible for our safety and the last thing she needs if action's starting is us wandering about like geese. Which is why, sire, my Lords, we're staying put as instructed." He shot Runnerspring a look of contempt.

"Of course we are." The King's brooked no disagreement. "But that wasn't a reaction to an expected alarm, I think."

"No." Alanna's face was tight. "That inflection meant something to Kel, but I don't know what—she has a whole set of calls." Purple eyes went to Runnerspring's guards. "Do either of you know that one?"

"Large armed party in the upper valley, my Lady."

"The upper valley?"

"South of the fin, my Lady. Probably off the Great North Road."

"Which is the wrong place for Scanrans." Alanna shrugged, looking at Runnerspring's faint smile. "No way of knowing until Kel gets back, unless Lord Carolan would care to enlighten us."

"I, Pirate's Swoop? Why should I know anything?"

"Well now, my Lord, that's an interesting question." Kel came forward, swinging the door shut behind her. She had needed only a private space to be shown by Ebony what Seed could see through the sentry's spyglass from the Eyrie. "One reason you might know about the party of five or six hundred mixed cavalry approaching down valley is that among their leaders is a knight displaying your device. Those of Genlith, Torhelm, Groten, Heathercove, and Marti's Hill are also visible." She slipped through the corner gap between tables and leaned against her empty place, contemplating him. "Do tell, my Lord."

"I know nothing of it, and if I did I'd not tell you."

"Wrong on both counts." Something in her voice made him shift in his seat. "Among the cavalry are a company of Scanran regulars. A knight bearing your device is in arms against his King and colluding with the enemy. Are you telling us Sir Garvey has the wit to commit such treason without your orders? Please."

"It's no treason!"

Too late he realised her stinging contempt had been deliberate and flushed, but he'd opened the way. Kel leaned back. "Isn't it? Then perhaps you'd explain how collusion with the enemy in wartime, with the King's person at risk, is loyal to Tortall."

"It's exactly loyal to Tortall, you stupid woman." He gave her a look of infinite contempt before switching it to the King. "Not the mongrel version you've wished on us, sire, but one we can be proud of. One without women pretending to knighthood and corrupting the Chamber, free of monsters she wants to be friends with." He glared scorn. "I couldn't believe you fools yesterday, bleating agreement. Recruit spidrens and build walls with ogres? It's obscene and you don't even see it any more, any of you, even with a half-breed prince married out—are we to have a king who's barely a quarter Tortallan? And live with monsters? Swive 'em too, maybe? You've let one crazy bitch bring down Tirrsmont and Torhelm, and said nothing. And now you want to reward her? Tortall's being dragged to the sewer, some of us have had enough, and if you hadn't

noticed, Vanget, you're trapped here and you all deserve what you'll be getting. You especially, Cavall—prosing principles but letting the bitch through, and promoting her. Faugh." Wyldon's face was unmoving and Runnerspring's gaze went back to the King, gloating triumph replacing contempt in his voice. "Your time has run out, you spineless fool." He waggled a hand, as if being judicious. "There are advantages in continuity and you have Jasson's blood, little as you show it, so divorce that foreign bitch and get a proper Tortallan heir, and you can keep that debating stool you call a throne until he's of age. Or go into exile in Carthak with your other foreign son and I'll call it good riddance. Your father was a dithering fool and you're weaker—even he'd never have stood to be ordered about by a woman, nor for these monsters." His eyes came back to Kel. "And as for you, Lady Knight—what an obscene stupidity that is"—his voice was vicious—"even with your monsters and cripples you've nothing like enough men to keep a real army out, and you've no idea what's coming at you. New Hope will fall, and that will be that. I'll give you one piece of advice, though." Malice blazed in his eyes. "Maggur wants you burned, as you burned Rathhausak, and he'll not be kind first, so if you're sensible you'll make sure you're not alive when his men come through that gate."

Throughout his rant the other Councillors had sat in silence, shock and rage developing in their faces as they absorbed his words. The King's silence had held them immobile but as Runnerspring's abuse became personal the spell broke. Kel's voice cut across the shouts.

"What a lot of things you choose to ignore, my Lord." Runnerspring recoiled where he sat. The Councillors had heard that dead flat voice twice before, and fell silent but Kel barely noticed in the icy, roaring rage that clamoured to possess her. "Beginning with the fact that you're a confessed traitor under arrest. Keep your advice. All I require from you is whatever you know about the forces massing outside my gates."

"Piss on you, bitch. You'll find out soon enough."

"Yes, I will." She turned to Turomot, seeing his face blank with shock. "Your Grace, do you concur that Lord Carolan is a manifest and self-confessed traitor to his King and his realm?"

The old man blinked once. "He is undoubtedly so, my Lady."

"And so, though noble, liable to torture."

He blinked again. "Yes."

Kel's head swung. "Do you forbid it, sire?"

Jonathan shook his head, voice hard. "No. We must know what he has done."

"So." Somewhere within her rage Kel thought of Rogal as she took her shuriken from her belt, aware of eyes fixed on her every movement. "Lord Carolan, do you remember when we first met?"

His bravado was ebbing as her voice continued flat, and she wished desperately her father was not present, nor Raoul. Nor Wyldon.

"Vaguely." He managed a sneer. "You ran away, I recall."

"You recall wrong, but you were drunk and revealingly crude." Her voice sounded far away and the shukusen swung from her hand. "Since then, my Lord, wondering how a man as ill-minded as your son comes to be, I have made it my business to listen to people who know you, and they all say the same. Beneath your obsessions with pride, wealth, and race, your daily habit is to grope, ogle, and swive women, willing, bought, or forced. So that's where we shall begin."

She snapped open the shukusen, tilting it so light gleamed on Yamani steel. "Lord Carolan, hear me well. I ask what you know of the forces massing here, and the plot you have laid. At the first refusal I will cut off your left hand, at the second your left eye, at the third your pizzle and stones." In the horror she turned to Baird, voice never wavering. "Your Grace, I must ask you to be prepared to stem the bleeding, if necessary. Not pain, of course. The shukusen will leave a neat stump."

He looked ill but took a deep breath, nodded, and rose. "My Lady."

Runnerspring's eyes widened as Kel moved forward to stand before him and Baird came round the table to flank her, drawing up his sleeves.

"You can't do this!"

She pinned him with her eyes, no more than an enemy in the way of her glaive. "Wrong again. You are a confessed traitor, without standing in law, and you threaten my people. I will do anything it takes to defend them and I bear the Black God's grace from his own lips. I need knowledge of your treason, now, and I will have it." If Runnerspring doubted her he was the only person who did, and she looked at Uinse's men behind him, as stiff as boards, eyes intent. "Hold him down, please, hands on the table."

Heavy hands bore down on Runnerspring's shoulders and each guard leaned forward to pin his forearms. The projecting hands reminded Kel of starfish on the beach at Mindelan, and she turned the shukusen, seeing the trajectory needed and abstractly regretting the use she found for Shinko's beautiful gift. It came to her that neither fierce Cricket nor the Crown Princess would object, and she tightened stomach muscles as she sent up a prayer from the clear mind inside the rage and fear compelling her.

"Last chance. Who comes to my gates with what purpose?"

He wasn't a coward and attempted defiance, though his eyes were screaming. "You haven't the gu—"

If she'd slammed the shukusen down it would have gone through the table, but only its sharpened vanes pierced the wooden surface as the same liquid movement she'd found in her pattern dance brought the fan to a precise halt. Baird's green magic flared around it, and when the rising fan flicked hand from forearm no blood spilled. She saw agony and shock in Runnerspring's eyes and while her mind wailed behind blessed glass her rage bored into him as his world and self buckled. The razor-edged extending vane of the shukusen slid smoothly to a halt where he could just focus on it, and slowly forward. Her gaze locked with his and his eyes bulged terror as he tried to focus on her and on the blade an inch from his eye.

"Second time of asking. What do you know of this attack?"

Everything she had went into her voice and she saw it break him as she heard his babble begin and twitched the shukusen aside, indicating to the soldiers that they could ease their grips. Both were white-faced but she saw nothing in their looks to match the revulsion in her mind.

Runnerspring barely seemed to notice Baird as he continued to stream green fire into the raw, bloodless stump, frowning concentration. The severed hand was leaking, Kel saw, as the controlling part of her mind listened to the skeltering tale.

The knights riding for New Hope were Garvey, Guisant, Ansil and Arknor, Belar, and Quinden, and Genlith was with them, and Torhelm's faithful steward, and they had been waiting north of Bearsford with nearly five hundred men—liegers and hired—in case the King fled south before Maggur could invest New Hope, and met up with a Scanran company sent with the force

besieging Mastiff, and the valley was sealed, and they should surrender because Maggur had mages who could beat Numair and engines no walls could resist, so it didn't matter he wouldn't be able to drug the gateguards as he'd promised, and Maggur would win, he had to, but he only wanted the woman who'd killed Blayce and burned Rathhausak raped and dead, as anyone would, and some of the lands Jasson had conquered, only as far as Trebond, worthless places anyway, he was welcome, it was a small price and a smaller, southern Tortall with a new ally on its northern border would be better off and could again become what it should be, without the unnatural women of such places as Trebond and Mindelan, Sarain and Yaman.

The frantic speech trailed into silence and Kel had to lock her throat against rising bile. "You believed Maggur only wanted me dead and the northern third of the realm? Goddess, you really are stupid." Her throat still tight she looked at Numair, face as blank as rock. "Were you able to make those doses?"

"Baird has them."

His voice was cold. She looked at the guards behind Runnerspring, whose eyes were glazing as Baird eased pain he hadn't stopped with the bleeding, and made herself speak briskly. "Lord Carolan is to be confined to the cell, and drugged. His Grace will supply dreamrose pills. He gets one meal a day and a pill, by force if necessary, until I say otherwise. No guards—once he's unconscious report to Uinse. He'll know what's happening by then." Ebony would be telling Seed.

"Lady Kel."

They saluted, lifted him, and went. After resting a hand gently on her shoulder for a moment, pity she couldn't bear in his green eyes, Baird followed and she turned to the King.

"I must ask you to excuse me for a moment."

She didn't wait on a reply but fled, just making it to the nearest privy before her stomach emptied itself in appalling heaves that left her white and sweaty. She took a moment to wipe her face and swill out her mouth, but there was no time for more and she straightened, squaring shoulders and ignoring whatever was behind glass.

"Ill?"

"No, Ebony. Not ill. Just sick to my stomach."

"You get secrets good."

"Yes, I did."

"Necessary."

"Yes. Not fun. Tell me what's happening south and north."

She listened, wiped her face again, and headed back. No-one seemed to have moved and she had the idea none had spoken in the minutes she'd been away, but the severed hand had, mercifully, vanished. She stood behind her chair, grateful to lean on it.

"Sire, my Lords and Lady. Lord Carolan is correct that we are besieged. The Scanran vanguard is in sight from the Eyrie and what I'll call Genlith's forces have crossed the stonebridge and are milling about. Our gates are shut." Her eyes shifted to Wyldon and she straightened. "My Lord, do you wish to assume command?"

"Certainly not, my Lady. I consider myself under your command for the duration."

"General—"

"No, Kel. We're all under your command here."

Disart sat up. "No offence, my Lady, but you are inexperienced yet. Vanget, surely—"

"Kel knows New Hope and its defences as no-one else." Raoul wagged a finger. "And I doubt she showed us everything. The odds are more even than Runnerspring thinks, and Maggur's going to take a lot of casualties." He tried a grin. "Besides, you've seen her command all week—d'you really think it's a good idea to try to stop her now?"

"But we're facing Tortallan troops, not Scanran rabble."

"Oh gods." The pain in Kel's voice snapped Disart's eyes to her. "Those Tortallans will be first to die, my Lord. Their value to Maggur is only as corpses drawing our teeth, and there is nothing for which I hate Runnerspring more. The danger is what you call Scanran rabble. But if I'm really in charge of this slaughter we need to be doing." She took a deep breath, marshalling thoughts. "Sire, the lookout post. Tobe will escort you. Vanget, with him please. Wyldon, Raoul, Alanna, join your companies, please, but you're all on the sally force roster. You too, Imrah, and with your escort squads in the corral, please. Numair, what did Runnerspring mean about Maggur having mages who could best you?"

"I don't know. If there's more than one red robe I'd be a fool to face them in open combat, but while I'm in and they're out there's not much they can do I can't neutralise."

"Could he have a black robe?"

Numair shrugged. "Not one who graduated."

"An immortal?"

"Only if it's a dragon. Or a new kind, I suppose."

"Right. Gatehouse roof, please, and Harailt, north tower roof—Ettenor's there. Draw mail and bascinets and remember what you can see can see you—our casualties will mostly come from arrow fire. Don't be among them. Your Grace of Wellam, Papa, my Lord of Nond, please take no offence if I ask you to go to the caves, and put yourselves at the disposal of Fanche. Your presence will reassure, and your swords strengthen the defences, should they be needed." Baird would go to the infirmary, which left five whose strengths she didn't know. "My Lords of Haryse, Frasrlund, Disart, Blue Harbour, and Macayhill, your best weapon, in a word?"

"Sword."

"Sword."

"Bow."

"Sword."

"Lance."

"Thank you. Bow and lance to the corral—lance for the sally squad. Swords to the north tower reserve, Sergeant Connac. Questions?"

Raoul's grin was genuine. "Not for you, Kel. See why she's in charge, Disart?"

Whether he did would have to wait, and with commanders up and moving Kel could chivvy everyone while asking the King, Vanget, and Numair to wait. Alanna and Raoul clapped her shoulder as they passed, but Kel was more stricken by Wyldon's awkward hand on her forearm and her father's wet face and intense hug before he followed Nond out. Var'istaan was waiting and she asked him in, seeing eyebrows rise. She knew her voice was very flat and couldn't help it.

"Sire, General Vanget, you're going to want to know what's going on and I'd be a fool to cut myself off from your advice, so I'm going to introduce you to someone. But you have to understand this being is a volunteer, not subject to treaty and not your subject, sire, but a resident of the Dragonlands. You can request but can't order." She looked at Var'istaan. "Thank you for agreeing, Var'istaan. Shale, please make yourself known. And you, Ebony."

She'd never been sure where the basilisk's darking was concealed but a patch of beaded hide over its shoulder flowed to the table and gathered itself, extruding a head as it lost the grey tinge and reverted to black. She felt Ebony extrude its head too.

"Hello. Me Shale."

"Hello. Me Ebony."

"Darkings!" The King's face showed surprise, rue, frustration, and avarice blending into admiration. "Where did you … how did you—"

"No questions, sire. Now be polite."

"Polite!" He shook his head. "Of course. Hello Shale, was it? And Ebony. I am Jonathan.

Jon."

"You king."

"For my penance. But another darking once called me Jon, when it called me anything, so I think you should too. And this is Vanget."

"You general."

"Yes. Hello." Vanget rubbed his chin. "These are the creatures that helped us in the Immortals War?"

"That's right. The Badger brought one with news Daine and Numair were alive, and it turned all its fellows that had been spying on us. They left with Lord Diamondflame after the war."

"And now they're back."

"Dragonlands boring. New Hope famous. We volunteer. Helping."

"And having fun, I expect."

The King's smile looked genuine and Kel liked him the better for it but couldn't respond.

"Yes, fun."

"Not fun today. Work." Ebony corrected Shale.

"No, not fun today. But the point is, sire, sir, you'll both be able to see what I can, with no magical drain, and if there's something I need to know you can tell me directly."

Ebony raised its squeak. "First walking men reach Spidren Wood."

"Thank you. Tell Brodhelm I'll be there directly. Shale, hide yourself on the King somewhere. Tobe will take you to the lookout post, sire, and make sure you're fed."

Around Var'istaan's bulk she watched her son lead her King and her commander, praying for his safety. Numair was still slumped in his chair and she drew breath painfully. "Numair?"

"Eh? Oh, yes. Can you spare one more minute, Kel?" Her name stopped her denial. "Only one, truly."

He stood, and to her surprise hugged her. "That was necessary, brutal, and efficient. I doubt you've ever done anything harder and I'm sorry I froze on you. The only people I've ever seen do such a thing enjoyed it. It sent me back."

Emotion returned to her and she swallowed hard. "I didn't."

"No, I know. And you'll hate yourself for a while, but don't ever think you're like the people who do enjoy it, Kel. They don't vomit afterwards. Now, where do I get this mail?"


	27. Chapter 24

Security

Chapter Twenty-Four — Security

26 December –31 January

From a mile up New Hope stood out only because of its square. It was in shadow, the fin catching the sun, but amid folded ridges, sprawling woods, and the irregular rivercourse the straight lines of alures and steady curve of corral wall looked unnatural. On either side parallel valleys resembled the crooked furrows that were still the best Kel could manage, and she had a vision of Adner scolding whoever was responsible for such sloppy work. When Diamondflame's descending spiral allowed she could see Riversedge and the Brown River. After a few passes New Hope grew larger, buildings and the green standing out even in shadow; tiny figures were moving at what must be a run.

They have seen us, Protector—your sentries are watchful. He sounded approving. When we are lower I can open a speaking spell.

"Can you hear me?" She couldn't see how with the rushing wind.

The darkings you carry hear you and I hear them.

"Thank you, Ebony. That's useful."

"Helping interesting."

"Not fun?"

"Fun too."

The feeling might be a child's, the capacities weren't, and seeing figures multiply like ants from a disturbed nest she gave thanks. Diamondflame was liable to worry anyone. "Ebony, would you ask him to circle and connect to someone on the gatehouse roof."

"Just speak. I tell."

Of course, Protector.

She felt their descent ease into a lazy circle. As broken terrain between the cliffs and valley to the east swung below she saw the raw gash of a recent landslip. As it came round again she peered more closely and knew with a sinking heart something would have to be done. She could see the duty commander on the gatehouse and men on the alures. "The man in the middle of the gatehouse roof."

I see him, Protector. Speak into the ball of light.

A small sphere lighter than the deep blue of Diamondflame's scales, appeared, sparking with silver. Kel leaned forward, feeling a prickle of magic. "Brodhelm? Can you hear? If there's a ball of light speak into it."

His voice was shocked but properly pitched, without the whiny effect of mortal speaking spells. "Lady Kel? Is that you?"

"Yes, with the children. The dragon is Lord Diamondflame, and he's going to be landing on the main level."

The spell conveyed a huffed laugh. "Right you are, Lady Kel. One clear main level coming up."

"Thank you, Brodhelm." The ball of magic winked out. "Ebony, please ask if we could look at that landslip."

Of course.

A few wingsweeps dropped them to circle terrain beyond the cliffs, and Kel's dismay grew. She'd felt safe with griffins to guard the clifftops because getting to them was so hard. The fin grew higher for some way east and even where it dwindled had precipitous sides, while the cliffs on both sides were guarded by steep-sided gullies and crags a skilled climber might manage but no military force. But if the corral remained secure New Hope did not: the landslip had been large, a high, wooded slope shearing away to fill one gully and cover the crag next to it, leaving a long slope broken by tumbled trees uprooted whole and crag tops sticking out like rocks at sea. Climbing might be dangerous and muddy, but the griffins could no longer be relied on to guard it.

The thought was confirmed as they came round and she saw that three tawny forms had launched from their cave in the cliffs. Diamondflame slowed to let the griffins glide into position alongside. After one look they ignored Kel and the children, concerned only with Diamondflame. Junior was equally fixated on the dragon but squawked surprise when he saw them and veered in. Tobe and Irnai freed hands to wave.

"You know young griffin?"

"I do, Ebony. I looked after him before he could fly."

"Griffins difficult. Sudden."

"These ones are alright. Junior can be a menace, mind."

There was a pause. "Menace fun?"

"Menace bad." Darking grammar was contagious. "Junior usually thinks it's fun, though."

"Griffins."

Her opinion of the darking rose at the wisdom infusing its squeak. Tobe couldn't have done better in his best old-man voice and Junior's squawk as he strayed too close and had to flap vigorously brought a smile to her lips. "Ebony, could you and your fellows please slip into pockets? I'll be telling the mortals and immortals you'll be with, of course, but I'd rather be cautious at first."

"I tell. We hide."

"Thank you. You don't mind?"

"Secrets fun."

Of course they were. She shook her head as Diamondflame spoke.

Protector, the griffins are concerned about the landslip. They say they agreed to guard the cliffs so no enemies gain the heights, but now do not know if they can. As they came over the raw

earth again his head dipped alarmingly but magic held them fast. They have a point.

Her voice was grim. "Please tell them we'll do all we can to block the way, and I do not hold them to the letter of the treaty. Whatever they can do will be welcome but they mustn't endanger themselves or Junior defending what cannot be defended."

Junior? His mindvoice sounded amused. He is the one you raised for a year, they tell me. The Godborn spoke of this. I will tell them, but griffins prefer letter to spirit and will not be happy to fail in their promise. And I am minded to help.

Relief flooded her. "That would be wonderful. But it seems … I don't know, disrespectful for you to dig and carry."

His amusement spiked into a laugh like fire on the wind. Ah Protector, you are an unusual mortal. I do not mind labour. His tone became thoughtful. Rainbow was right. There is no threat to compel intervention, as there was in Uusoae's bond with Ozorne, yet our interest here is aligned with the gods'. That skullroad bears scrutiny.

They were too high for Kel to see the skulls but she had no doubt Diamondflame saw whatever he wanted, as he went where he would.

"As much as you will, my Lord. May I ask if the dragons' interest being aligned with the gods' helps to answer my question?"

His amusement returned. It is a good question, Protector, and you are right to think beyond uncertainty. If you survive you will be a beacon for many, mortal and immortal. What would you be to the Dragonlands?

"I'm not sure." She thought of Sakuyo, Kitten and Kawit, basilisks; her people between the wealthy south and hungry north. "An ally?" She thought of her father. "Could New Hope be a place of embassy? You've considered sending young to the mortal realms because Skysong has grown up so quickly. Perhaps they could come to meet mortals, basilisks, stormwings, and spidrens. Trade magic or lessons or labour."

Perhaps. A single footing in the mortal realm where younglings may study mortal affairs and meet cousins should not be beyond the wit of the Dragonmeet. I will think on it.

He tipped down and the adult griffins broke away towards the clifftop. She felt Ebony and other darkings slide over the breast of her tunic to its pocket; Tobe's and Irnai's passengers also vanished. Diamondflame's magic again supported her like a jousting saddle as he banked, losing height in a tight spiral before easing out to glide towards New Hope. The main level was clear, alures dense with soldiers and civilians, and she saw those on the inner wall duck as he whooshed overhead. She felt the shock of landing. Wings furled, magic dwindled, and they were down. Kel let out a breath, appreciating the still nearness of ground, and air slapped her back. She ducked, stifling a shout as Junior shot over her, barely missing Diamondflame's head but turning on a wingtip to land and trot forward with a satisfied squawk.

"Little monster."

Without wind Diamondflame could hear her exasperated mutter and she blushed at his renewed amusement.

He is unruly, Protector, but has never seen an adult dragon save Kawit and was very disappointed she does not fly. The young of all kinds cluster here. I will speak with him and the basilisks and stormwings while you arrange what must be done.

"Thank you. I'm sorry—Junior does like dangerous flying, though."

I have never known a griffin collide with anything it did not want to, but I will caution him.

Descend now.

Kel was peripherally aware of Peachblossom and Jump staring from the shelf, basilisks approaching, and the Stone Tree Nation beginning to land on merlons and rooves, but Diamondflame's leg was extending and she flexed muscles, trying to ease them. Standing was going to hurt. The children seemed to find it easier, and Tobe turned to her, face alight.

"Wasn't that wonderful, Ma?"

"Utterly. Give me a hand up? I think my legs have frozen."

"It was scary good, not scary bad." He held out a hand and she managed to stand, the need to brace him as he swung down forcing orders to her body through cold and cramp. Then she could stoop, gripping the golden crest, and gingerly make her way to the ground. People were coming from the alures, Brodhelm, Mikal, and Uinse trotting down from the gatehouse, and she saw Nari and other sparrows take off from Peachblossom's mane, but first things first.

"Children." She straightened painfully, feeling muscles reluctantly unkink, and turned to bow. "Thank you my Lord, for everything."

He didn't look round from a rapt Junior. You are welcome, Protector, Tobeis, Irnai.

Perhaps we will fly together again sometime.

They left him to Junior's eager mercies, turning to face the crowd beginning to ring them at a circumspect distance. Sparrows circled in a storm, and Nari landed on her shoulder, peeping uncertainly.

"Hello, little one." Painfully she lifted a hand to rub his head, producing a volley of peeps that was probably a warning about consorting with dragons; tension ebbed in the crowd, as if the sparrow's familiarity confirmed identity. Walking became easier as muscles warmed and she was able to rotate shoulders and neck; her heavy pack could come off, and she let it swing from one hand. Neal and Yuki were before her, with Ryokel, and she managed a smile at the staring baby.

"Hi, sweeting. All well?"

"Everything's fine, Kel." Neal's voice was both dry and incredulous. "That doesn't look like Alder. Did you trade him in?"

"Of course not, Meathead." The old name rose to her lips with a smile at his indignant look. "That's Lord Diamondflame. He wants to see the skullroad and we tagged along. Alder's following with the escort."

Brodhelm caught the end of this. wonder you look frozen."

"Tagged along, Lady Kel? From Corus? Gods, no

"We didn't fly straight. I'll explain later. You can stand down and tea would be welcome, but we've work to do." She saw Mikal turn to give an order but didn't pause. "When did that landslip happen?"

"Four days back, after ten of rain. We looked as best we could from the Eyrie, and I sent a patrol when the weather cleared. It's bad."

"It is, but we have dragon help today. We need an abatis building team—woodsmen,

basilisk, and ogres. Teams. Lord Diamondflame says he can get people up there."

He was too good an officer to protest. "An abatis, Lady Kel?"

"To block the slope above that landslip. A really spiky fence. It made sense from the air." She took a breath. "Consider it a surprise drill. Four abatis teams, soonest. Let me know when they're assembled. I'm going to change. And eat—we missed breakfast."

"Right. Stand down. Four abatis teams." He turned away, then back. "Um, you might want to say something to everyone."

She looked round at silent faces, some fixed on her but most on the vast bulk of Diamondflame. "Oh, right." Mikal passed her a cup of stewed tea, steaming in the chilly air and she drank gratefully, warmth loosening her throat as tea cleared her mind. Nari took off, daring to perch on Diamondflame's tail before joining the others overhead.

"People, there's no emergency, just things that need doing while opportunity offers. That's Lord Diamondflame, Skysong's grandsire, and the most senior dragon apart from Lord Rainbow. He's a good friend but be polite, eh?" She heard stormwing cackles. "And don't interrupt him while he's talking to immortals but if he asks anything, the answer's yes. All clear?"

She turned to Brodhelm. "Better? Stand down. Abatis teams. Go." He went, soldiers scattering at his crisp orders, the crowd rippling around them. Blessing him, she looked at Mikal. "Is there breakfast? If not, can the cooks whip up some."

"Is there …" He shook his head. "Lady Kel, I've no idea when you left but it's not an hour after dawn. There's plenty of breakfast."

"Oh. Right. Dragonflight is confusing." In the greyness time had seemed irrelevant, reminding her of the place she'd met the Black God but the whole day lay ahead. Which was wonderful, but not without food. "We'll meet you in the messhall. Come on Tobe, Irnai sweeting —let's get some of these layers off."

"Just out of interest, Kel, when did you leave Corus?"

Neal was trying to be casual and she let Tobe answer.

"Just after dawn, Sir Nealan. Is it still the day after Midwinter?"

Neal nodded, eyes wide. "Yes."

Tobe looked sage. "I thought so. Dragons are fast."

She could hear Neal's mutter as she walked on—"Less than an hour from Corus?"—and agreed it was ridiculous, but before she could explain she needed privacy to adjust her head and deal with darkings. And if she was lucky, to see Dom. Chill as it was and cold as she felt she was beginning to sweat, and her rooms were doubly welcome. With door shut, bags dropped, and layers shed, she sat by a table with the children.

"Ebony, you and the others can come out now."

Rolling darkings emerged from various pockets and slid to the table. Heads popped up and the objects or splashes of colour distinguishing them became visible. What did they need to know or be warned about? Unbuttoning her tunic her mind slipped into gear.

"Alright, I'm working this out as I go, but the main thing is, I'm sorry, I can't introduce

you today. I didn't know what was going to happen with Diamondflame and the skullroad and now there's a landslip to deal with. So, tomorrow. Meantime you need to stay out of sight in here. No-one but the children or me should come in to the sitting-room or bedroom, so you can explore, but my clerk Heliana uses the office. And be careful of weapons—there's a godmade bow and arrows that are … not alive, but aware, somehow."

Ebony bobbed. "We careful. I come? Then all learn as I do."

"Um, can you hide so no-one sees you and still learn?"

"Can disguise. What you wear?"

"My shirt and tunic—this one—and breeches."

"Take off tunic. I show."

She laid it on the arm of her chair and was startled as Ebony leaped towards the collar. It fastened with a button, not the elaborate ties some nobles preferred, but there was black piping and Ebony elongated further and further, moulding itself to the piping's curve and matching its texture. Its head reappeared.

"This good?"

"Yes, Ebony, that's excellent. Does it hurt?"

"No. We take any shape. Like this can talk to ear."

"I suppose, but not when anyone else can see or hear today."

"Talk when safe. Tell others what I see. All learn, help better."

"Sounds good. I'm sorry to be sneaky, but there are complications."

"Like king?"

"Yes, like king. The King." She shook her head. She couldn't deal with the effects of dragon and darkings all at once. In the whirling rush she hadn't thought about the impression she'd make at New Hope—and she had in effect invited a god to dinner again. People would like it once they'd absorbed it, but until they did a new, very disconcerting kind of immortal was best kept back. "People are coping with a dragon. They wouldn't pay proper attention today."

"Not worry. Mortal realm interesting. Much to learn. Fun."

The word seemed a universal clincher and Ebony's head disappeared. She looked at the other darkings. "Alright until tonight?"

Scarlet was nearest, the little, angular scrap of colour she thought might be a fragment of dragonscale on top of its head as it squeaked.

"Explore. Not be seen."

"And stay in these rooms, please."

"Not be seen. Not worry."

Darkings flowed from the table to scatter about the room. Kel had visions of Heliana being accosted by a squeak, but darkings were their own creatures, and not trusting them was peculiarly

self-defeating. Besides, it was a relief to strip down to one vest and shirt, and remove the leggings under her breeches. By the time she was done the children were ready, and she put on her tunic again, buttoning carefully. With a quiet farewell answered by a faint squeak somewhere they trotted down to the main level. Her sense of morning returned with the familiar scene despite the crowd round Diamondflame and the immortals clustered by his head. Almost at the messhall she heard her name and there was Dom, limping from the green, eyes intent.

"Lady Kel."

"Dom." She wanted to embrace him ridiculously badly but contented herself gripping his hands and letting her eyes speak as he gripped hers in return. "You're well?"

"Yes, but confused. Jacut says you came on the dragon?"

His voice was plaintive and her heart twisted. "It's a long story. The dragon is Diamondflame, Kitten's grandsire. He wants to see the skullroad, he's going to help with that landslip, and I have to have breakfast. Eat with us?"

"Gladly. I've not eaten myself—there was a dragon alarm." He shook his head, letting her go. "You've done it again, haven't you?"

There was mirth and astonishment in his tone now, with something warm that made her conscious of her body, and she felt anxiety lessen. "Probably. It's hard to argue with a dragon that size."

"I imagine."

He was laughing as he followed her and the children into the messhall. It was unusually empty because so many were gaping outside, but save for Brodhelm the mortal members of New Hope's Council were at one table, with Yuki and Ryokel, and between cereal, rolls, and a heaped plate she managed to fill them in half-way sensibly, at least so far as the spiral spell was concerned. The many guests expected for Imbolc could wait a day, but she summoned a meeting of the Council for the morrow, asking Uinse to send to Quenuresh and tell Barzha if she was perched somewhere. Meantime the priority was the landslip and as she described what she'd seen faces tightened—but she didn't understand the logistics Diamondflame proposed, and regretfully abandoning thirds said she'd go and find out. Outside the crowds seemed barely to have stirred and she raised her voice again.

"People, we need dragonlengths of space and breakfast is getting cold. Lord Diamondflame is here for the day, I think, so go eat. Then routine, as much as you can. Chop chop."

As she made her way through them, captains and knights trailing, she shooed people along. It was as if they were entranced, and once interrupted shook heads and started moving again. Brodhelm saw her coming from a space his soldiers were holding clear by the ranges, where teams including woodworkers and field labourers stood with adult ogres, all bearing a variety of tools—mattocks, axes, adzes, and saws.

"Lady Kel, I don't know where we're getting wood for this abatis, but we can cut, shape, and plant stakes when we do. The basilisks have been with the dragon, so I haven't spoken to them yet."

"Good work. Let's find out what's happening." She approached the circle of immortals, seeing Amourta among them, and bowed. "My Lord, I'm sorry to interrupt, but teams are ready. We'll need the basilisks' help, and I'm not sure how you wanted to proceed."

Protector. Var'istaan, Laar'aan, Spiir'aan, and Histu'aan will help, and the griffins will have made preparations. I will lift you now. It might be best if you went also, to reassure the griffins.

"Of course. But we need to get wood for the abatis, and, um, lift how? Can the basilisks ride your neck as we did?"

The griffins will be gathering wood and I will get the rest. I will lift you by magic, Protector—my cousins do not ride well. You will see.

"Magic, right."

The adult males basilisks went to stand with the assembled teams and Diamondflame rose, people edging hastily back.

"It is all right." Var'istaan's whisper was carrying. "Diamondflame will lift us to the top of the cliffs. When you can see what we must do it will be easy to understand."

Brodhelm had assigned a guard squad, and Kel approved the caution but modified orders. "While I'm there I'm in charge, but if a basilisk or Lord Diamondflame tells you anything, heed it." She swallowed, wondering if so much breakfast had been a good idea after all. "My Lord, if you could lift me and the guards first everyone can see it is safe."

Very well, Protector. Prepare yourselves.

From the startled expressions that had been audible to all, but before she could say anything magic billowed and Kel felt herself squeezed and lifted, as she might grasp Jump. Her stomach lurched as she felt her feet leave the ground and she locked muscles, fighting nausea; by the time she was again aware of her surroundings beyond the sparkling magic she was half-way up the cliff, rising steadily. Hastily she turned her head to contemplate the stone blurring past rather than the void on the other side, and in a moment saw it vanish as she reached the top and arced over to land on the clifftop. She felt herself pressed gently down, as if Diamondflame were making sure of her footing, and the magic vanished. She swallowed again, feeling nausea retreat and blew out a breath.

"Well, that wasn't so bad. Everyone alright?"

They were, however startled, and she looked about, orienting herself. The flat lip of the cliff was bare stone, scoured by wind eddying over the fin; beyond, straggling grass clumped on a gentle slope. Vegetation thickened in hollows but the treeline was fifty feet lower, a quarter-mile away, along the line of crags and interrupted to her right by the landslip. On the slope above it the griffins seemed to be digging, and the dark, crescent line they were tracing was the path the abatis would take. She was about to point it out when the first team, Var'istaan among them, soared over the clifftop. In minutes fifty breathless mortals and quietly amused basilisks and ogres gathered round her.

"Alright, people, see the line the griffins are marking? That's the line the abatis has to take, as solid and nasty as we can make." She frowned. "Lord Diamondflame said they'd have gathered wood"

"They will fetch trees dislodged in the landslip, Protector. There is no need to cut more when many have fallen already."

"Oh. Right. Thank you, Var'istaan. Let's be doing then."

She led the way to the nearer end of the line the griffins had created, a trench scraped in the shallow soil to the rock beneath, higher on the slope than she'd expected. Seeing them approach both griffins had taken off with ringing cries, and were circling above the raw earth of the landslip. They stooped to grasp a treetrunk, one at each end. It took a flurry of wingbeats to free it and when it did leave the earth the strange assemblage rose swiftly before the griffins could direct their flight. The battered, muddy trunk thumped to the ground just above the trench, and the griffins wheeled away for another. Half the bare crown was intact, the rest sheared off, and adzemen and sawyers set to work.

Mortals pruned trunks—roughcut would do—and chopped ends sharp; ogres set them in place, with a basilisk to soften and reset stone. Petrification could come later. It took a while to get going, and half-a-dozen trees were piled up before the first stripped trunk, twenty feet long, was anchored. Thereafter work found its rhythm, adzemen delivering trunks to ogres as soon as they were ready for another.

Kel tried to help but her incompetence in carpentry extended to adzework and strong as she was she couldn't match ogres, so she was left with the guards. Enquiries showed three to be adequate woodmen so they joined the loppers and hewers; she set the rest to exploring the triangle of land defined by fin, clifftop, and crags. It was too bare and windswept to be of practical use, but access was desirable, and thoughts stirred. Looking the other way, from the crag that secured one end of the abatis, she could see down the blind valley to the ridge that carried the trail branching from the Greenwoods road for Giantkiller. Aldoven and his kin laired in the woods between but there was no sign of them; even with most trees bare she could see nothing through dense branches, and with the winter sun making such low arches the fin's shadow fell over the valley even as noon approached.

By the time twenty-five trunks were in place she could see the griffins were tiring and would not be able to keep pace. Things clicked in her mind and she headed for the clifftop. She approached the edge cautiously, mindful of the void beyond, but her residual fear of heights was sufficiently exhausted that she could edge forward until she could see Diamondflame stretched across the green. She spoke in a murmur.

"Ebony, can you still contact Lord Diamondflame?"

A tiny head brushed her ear, making her shiver. "What say?"

"Two things. We're going to need his help getting timber soon—the griffins can't keep up. And could he ask Brodhelm to get together four carpenters and some heavy timber for a hoist, and lift them up? So we can rig a way of getting up without dragonpower."

"Asking."

Diamondflame swung his head up. It will be done, Protector. I will join you shortly.

"Please thank him, Ebony."

"Thanking. He hears. Dragons not so polite. Just do, go."

As well they might. "That's no reason for me to be rude when he's being so helpful." Ebony seemed to digest this and she heard Diamondflame's enquiring Brodhelm?, obviously audible to all as people rippled. Within minutes a group was assembling and baulks of timber being brought. Then she saw them disappear in a cloud of magic that curved to the cliff and went on rolling upwards in a way she hadn't appreciated from inside, as if a roadway just happened to be vertical.

She was waiting to greet them and explain what she had in mind. Brodhelm had clearly grasped the point, for as well as timbers and a stout pulley they'd brought the rope she'd ordered in Mindelan, more because she admired ropemaking and had wanted to reward the chandler than with any use in mind. At least four lengths would need splicing, but it was clear the carpenters knew what they were about. The sensible place would be in line with the overhang below the lookout: besides its primary purpose the hoist could serve as a means of escape. She marked the spot she wanted, and had just shown it to the senior carpenter when she saw Diamondflame move. She'd thought he would take off as he had in Corus, but he flowed over the eastern walls, straddling the killing field, forepaws on outer and hindpaws on inner alure, and launched into a lazy glide over the valley and round to the updrafts by the fin.

Hastily she headed downslope to give him room to land but he didn't bother, extending the trajectory that brought him over the cliff into a turn that left him hovering over the landslip. The griffins took themselves out of the way, landing on crags. Diamondflame's wings were still, and Kel realised it must be magic holding him up, not whatever allowed winged creatures to fly; more streamed from his forepaws to set earth churning. The griffins had been picking timber from the surface; now trees from deep within groaned back into daylight, to be briskly banged together. Earth and branches tumbled, and a great bundle of trunks moved to the line of the abatis and unrolled, each trunk more or less where it needed to be. A second bundle followed, and a third and fourth until the arc needed was complete.

Even the basilisks had stopped to watch the display and all cheered; a lick of flame around the great dragon's paws suggested he wasn't unsatisfied himself. Kel knew all dragons were mages and only a Black Robe might hope to hold against the least of them; it was something else to see such power at work. She didn't think anything done today would be beyond Numair, but he would have been exhausted—which Diamondflame wasn't. As the sound of adzes and basilisk spells resumed he slipped sideways to a crag beside the griffins, perched, and cocked his head as if listening. His mindvoice took Kel by surprise.

It is a shame Skysong is not here, Protector. She would enjoy this.

The first sound was a low growl, felt as much as heard, a vibration in her gut that made churned earth shiver; another, higher but still visceral note joined the first and trickles began; with a third, peremptory sound a full slide began. Kel could feel rock quiver as earth roared down to the valley floor, exposing the buried crag. The slope left was far steeper, and with the crag back on duty and the abatis the way was securer than ever, but Diamondflame wasn't finished and turned attention to the crags. Kitten's trills and warbles made rocks glow; her grandsire's version made them crack and explode as magic played, steepening any conceivably way up and closing the top of the re-emptied gully with a sheer face. Stone smashed downslope to squelch into raw earth, sending up circles of mud like water struck by raindrops, and Diamondflame began to range, trimming less extensively but just as spectacularly, until the arc from fin to limestone was an obstacle only mountain goats could surmount. The abatis would be no more than a lock on a high window, but as Kel watched she realised it did serve a purpose, for even goats—and Scanrans who knew the Grimholds and Icewalls knew as much about mountains as anyone—could not pass. If Maggur wanted in this way he'd have to have troops who flew.

Work had stopped again at this further display, and when it didn't resume Kel realised her thought had been half-followed. She made her way over to explain there was still a point in getting the job done, her brisk observation that hurroks and their ilk were a great deal harder to come by than men who could imitate goats garnering a laugh and renewed effort. Trees Diamondflame had scavenged were barer poles already, from burial and banging, and work sped up, until a basilisk-and-ogre team having set one in place could simply leapfrog the other three teams and start again immediately. The griffins rejoined the effort, finishing their trench and returning along it, clearing the bedrock more thoroughly. In an hour it was clear that,

astonishingly, work would be finished before sunset. Magic was the essential thing but there was a smoothness to the rhythm that was helping—no -one needed telling to stand back as a basilisk roared rock fluid, nor to come forward to guide the base of each trunk home into the rock soup as ogres lifted it. It was enthralling.

"Beautiful. Like dance."

No-one was in hearing distance but Kel tried not to move her lips. "Isn't it? You know about dancing?"

"Dragons dance on wind. Say gods dance. Fun."

"Yes, it is. And gods do dance, some of them anyway." Something Daine had said she'd only half-absorbed came into her mind. "Could you show me dragons dancing?"

"Yes, but private. Spread to show."

That made sense. "I'll look forward to it. It must be amazing."

"Beautiful."

Looking round she could see the hoist taking shape, and went to offer encouragement. Carpenters were sawing and nailing, one splicing lengths of rope; she admired his deft movements before starting back down the slope. Diamondflame had other ideas, gliding from his crag to land twenty feet in front of her.

There is nothing more for me to do here, Protector, until I lift everyone down. And I must see the skullroad. Will you come with me?

She blinked. "If you wish, my Lord."

It will be easiest to ride, if you can overcome your fear again.

"You know about that?" She wasn't surprised—any horse knew if its rider was afraid.

I sense it in you, Protector, because you do not fear me, only the experience of height. It is an unusual combination. Your control is very good. That note of amusement returned to his mindvoice. You have been dealing with Quenuresh and Barzha Razorwing, so I assumed it was, but it is impressive all the same.

"Don't all beings do the same when they must, my Lord? Not the stormwings, maybe, as they feed on fear, but I doubt I was more nervous than Quenuresh's kin when we first met."

Not many mortals would think so, Protector. Come. He crouched to extend a forepaw as he had at Corus.

Her eyes sought the senior corporal, and she shouted that she was going with Lord Diamondflame. Whether he caught her words she wasn't sure but he certainly saw her seat herself again at his neck, one ridge forward, where Tobe had been, for the easier grip. The dragon surged upslope and dropped from cliff, magic gripping her, and despite her stomach there was wild excitement in the swoop that took them over New Hope, so close to the alure she could have reached down to knock off a sentry's helmet and wasn't sure Diamondflame's tail hadn't. He dipped into a lazy circle that brought him to the upper roadway, landing by the lowest skull. His magic disappeared, but his foreleg did not extend to offer her a way down.

The names bestowed were Chargy, Bargy, Horny, Toothy, Dimwit, Flatnose, and Pizzle,

yes?

"That's right. From the top, so Pizzle's nearest."

His head snaked forward to smell the skulls, and Kel was reminded of Quenuresh; there was something wary in the movement, as one might sniff a pot with unknown contents. Perhaps a lingering taint of Chaos could have the same effect as pepper. His head moved to Flatnose and Dimwit. She felt something like a sigh and he settled, contemplating the skulls; then his foreleg at last extended.

I am sorry if it pains you, Keladry, but tell me again the story of these tauroses and all that happened with the gods. If you sit on my paw and speak softly none will hear.

It wasn't a welcome request but there would be neither pity nor prurience in those eyes. She thought he'd meant to sit on the upper side of his paw, legs dangling like a child's, but he gently tipped her to her feet and rotated the paw, spreading pads and claws. Too full of marvels to wonder at another she hoisted herself up, finding she could lean back against uptilted silver, and began the narrative, untold for a year save to Dom. He listened intently, but wanted precise description of the mage and his mud-brown magic, and made her repeat the Black God's and Hag's words. He was interested in what Quenuresh had done and said, and she added that the spidren could speak better for herself.

Yes, I will speak with her. But continue with how the stormwings brought you the skulls.

When she was done she felt purged, as after finally speaking to Alanna and receiving the Goddess's absolution. It didn't make sense, but the inhuman intelligence in Diamondflame's unwavering gaze was compassionate without judging, aware without limit, and yet in some animal way more akin to her than any god, unbelied by human seeming. She was more relaxed than she'd have believed possible, and knew speaking of it from beyond knowledge of Dom— knowledge of herself he had taught—had ended its horror, like grass grown over a grave.

Thank you—your tale does not grow less interesting. There is certainly Chaos taint in these skulls, and the shadow of magic that controlled them. The gods should have dealt with all such when Uusoae was banished. His voice was disapproving and she didn't disagree. The timeway rebukes them, in its fashion. So I will heed Rainbow and add a layer to your defences. Stand well back.

He tipped her to her feet and she climbed to the turn of the roadway where Brodhelm, Mikal, Uinse, and Dom stood. The walls were lined, the gatehouse crowded with spectators, but Kel could hardly object when she had every intention of watching herself.

"Alright, Lady Kel?"

"Fine, Brodhelm. He wanted the story of the tauroses."

"Ah." Brodhelm hesitated. "Rough on you."

"Not any more." Her hand brushed Dom's as she turned to stand between him and Uinse. "Dragons have a concern with skullroads—it's complicated but he says he's going to add to our defences."

"How?"

"I've no idea."

There wasn't much to see at first save Diamondflame himself, but then he drew himself up

like a cat stretching and cupped forepaws round Pizzle. Silver claws extended, touching the skull, air began to shimmer and glow, and Kel realised what she was seeing.

"He's feeding it dragonfire."

Streamers of flame entered the skull's eyesockets and mouth, and the dome of the skull began to glow, shading through red, white, and blue to a glittering black. The streamers were replaced by a ball of white mist shot with silver that shrank and vanished, and Pizzle looked unchanged. Shifting slightly Diamondflame reached to Flatnose, and the process began again. With Bargy and Chargy they were close enough to feel the fierce heat of the fire-streamers, and Kel's eyes flicked along the parapet to see Stanar and other prisoners in prime position, faces wondering. Eald uhtsceatha, nihtes fleogeth fyre befangen—their sagas made better sense today.

Finishing with the skulls Diamondflame locked extended claws into a giant cage that filled with magic and bent his head to blow into it. When he retracted his claws the magic formed a ball that shrank and began to float toward Kel. Hold out your hand, Protector.

She did and something solid slapped her palm—a length of warm, blue-black dragonscale with a line across its middle.

You will find it bends slightly, so there are two positions—you might call them on and off. Retreat to the gatehouse while I stand clear, and try the other position for as short a time as you can manage. Snap, snap—no slower.

Kel wasn't sure everyone had heard but her captains had and climbed to the gatehouse, Dom's limp evident on the slope. Diamondflame took their place, and she saw he was arching his body to keep it away from the roadway and allowing his tail to hang down the glacis.

"Now, my Lord?"

Yes. I am safe enough.

"Here goes."

Grasping the dragonscale she pressed, felt the snap, and pressed back as the world exploded in heat and light. Flame gouted from every skull to form a boiling ribbon of fire above the roadway, writhing sparks before dying. Stones glowed and the air shimmered. She'd involuntarily taken a step back, as had others, and motioning them to stay cautiously went down, heat on her face. The skulls looked innocuous, but there was a slight whitening of eyesockets and mouths. Diamondflame's voice was for her alone, though she wasn't sure how she knew.

Had any thing or person been there it would burn and melt.

Wonder and practicality crowded her mind. "As with that other skullroad, my Lord."

Just so. It serves the echo the timeway has produced.

"How much dragonfire do they contain?"

Several minutes. Tauros bone cannot hold more although I have reinforced it. Irony twined in his voice. No mortal has ever controlled dragonfire, Protector, but Rainbow counselled the time had come and one who has seen the Black God's face might be trusted. I find it fitting it should be the mortal to whom Weiryn gave sunbird arrows, for fire calls to fire and they as much as basilisks are our kin.

"I didn't know that."

Why should you? Those arrows are a remarkable gift, Keladry, for sunbirds are never hunted and moult once in an eon. Weiryn must have sought feathers long. But while such an arrow might guard against even a god, three are of limited use against a mortal army and my fire may serve you in that. I would wish you luck but you have made your own. I hope we meet again. Now I must speak to Quenuresh and Barzha. I will return to lower those who labour on the clifftop. Farewell, Protector, with those you guard.

He dropped from the glacis, air buffeting her as lazy strokes took him towards Spidren Wood. Stormwings streamed into the air, trailing him, and she trudged to the gatehouse, meeting her captains' eyes—wide and shocked, with other things in Dom's.

"Dragonfire, Kel?"

"Dragonfire. So this goes with the mageblast keys." She hefted the scale. "We wouldn't want to set that off accidentally."

"Gods, no." He smiled crookedly. "Any more wonders today?"

"I don't think so, though he'll be back to get everyone down. The rest of the wonders must wait for tomorrow."

The Council meeting could have become ragged with worry but Kel kept things focused. Despite lingering pungency she asked Barzha to hop to a wooden roost, closed the window, and asked Quenuresh to seal the room. The precautions sobered everyone, ebullient from astonishments, and news of the Imbolc meeting sat mortals bolt upright. Kel observed that she expected a great many more people to arrive shortly thereafter, not as guests, and when a white-faced Brodhelm began to say they would be desperately short of men she agreed and began to detail the forces that would be coming. Early morning calls to Vanget and Wyldon had, besides surprising them, confirmed that Alanna had firespoken them and Raoul. Neither shared her gut certainty Maggur would come, but Vanget was cuttingly rude about the King's decision and needed no persuading that Lord Ferghal should stay away, poised with haMinchi forces, nor that a relieving force was no substitute for men on the alures, so company-sized escorts it would be. With the First that would make five hundred men, more than doubling her trained strength, plus whatever King or Councillors brought as well as any veterans who turned up—the question was how to integrate them.

That was a military matter though Fanche and Saefas would be needed. Kel wanted Adner to get in as much winter crop as he could, even if earlier meant smaller and less; roots still in the ground wouldn't be available to New Hope but would be to besiegers. There would be additional food from army sources, but before details could consume them Kel broached her third surprise, letting the darkings roll from her pocket onto the table. Silence was complete as they shyly waved.

"Meet darkings, people. They're immortals, they're volunteers, and they want fun."

Neal was fascinated. "I've heard stories about them. They helped in the Immortals War but returned to … the Dragonlands, my father said."

"They're back."

"I wonder how." He grinned. "And what one knows, all know?"

"That's right."

"They're spies, aren't they?"

Ebony expanded its head to squeak more loudly. "Can be spies. Can communicate. Like magespell but better. Quicker. Safer."

"And there you have it. What they will do is link us, and that's going to change things. Quenuresh, will you accept Iron? And Queen Barzha, Scarlet?" She'd discussed assignments with the darkings, sorting out which thought what would be most fun. "If Maggur doesn't come we rethink. But if he does, then besides whatever you do on your own behalves co-ordination would be useful."

Quenuresh nodded, voice edged with surprise. "It will be my pleasure. You continue to make life very interesting, Protector, when I thought even you could not surpass your arrival yesterday."

"Doesn't she?" Barzha extended a wing so Scarlet could leap and roll across steel, unperturbed by the sharp feathers. "Dragonfire in one hand, darkings in the other, and a king on either side as the timeway gathers to its roil. Fun will be the least of it, little one."

Biscuit went to Brodhelm, Petal to Mikal, Seed to Uinse for use in the Eyrie until action might dictate otherwise, Button to Dom, Shale to Var'istaan, and Ember to Fanche.

"I want this kept quiet. We can't be secret, but we can be discreet. To begin with His Majesty, who does know darkings exist, does not know about these darkings and I'd as soon not tempt him with them. Nor anyone—and it is possible to be invisible in plain sight. Ebony?"

They stared as the darking turned itself into a length of piping before cheerfully popping out its head. "Easy. Any shape. Collar. Ribbon. Necklace."

"Those with darkings, work out your favoured disguise and stick to it. Captains, tell your seconds—if anything happens to you in action the darkings will shift. Uinse, you're going to have to tell those on duty in the Eyrie but make it as few as possible, and they are not to talk about darkings to anyone without permission. Immortals, what you say to your own is your business, but make sure it stays among your own. I know it'll get out, but it's an advantage to keep close held as long as possible."

Brodhelm frowned. "I'm not arguing, Lady Kel, but are you worried about the enemy knowing?"

"A bit. Not even darkings know if Maggur knows they exist, but he may have a mage who used to serve Ozorne, so he might. And more than one plan for attacking New Hope might assume we wouldn't be able to react fast to multiple attacks." She blew out a breath. "It's also for the darkings' sake, Brodhelm. There's more than one person who'd do almost anything for a darking network. Come to that, how would you like army inspectors to have darkings to send ahead? Ask Jacut what he thinks of the Lord Provost having them, or Tirrsmonters how Sir Arnolf would have used such a resource." There was silence as everyone registered their distaste for that line of thinking. "Exactly. Complications best avoided. And with the Council coming there'll be some temptable people, I'm afraid. Which brings me to the last thing, because we've all been so concerned with defence we've forgotten the reason it's coming. We're being inspected as a potential fief, and while it should be a formality there's at least one person who'll be trying to make sure it isn't. So on top of everything we have to be decked in our best. A lot falls to Fanche,

Saefas, and Zerhalm, I'm afraid—we need to paint, sweep, clean, mend, whatever else anyone can think of. Adner needs to make sure of his records—they'll be asking about being self-supporting—and the same for Idrius with Guild records, such as they are."

"Another slow January, then, Lady Kel?" Saefas grinned as Zerhalm and others laughed. "Ah well, after six whole days of festivities I was getting restless."

Kel blinked, realising it was still Midwinter, and they laughed again. "I'd really forgotten. Being carried off adragonback is very distracting."

They split into groups to continue, while Kel spoke quietly to Barzha and Quenuresh. Neither would say more of the timeway but Diamondflame's speculation that the skullroad might be its rebuke to gods intrigued both; Kel didn't ask them what he'd spoken of to them, but before gliding from the window Barzha remarked he'd been in a better mood than last time she'd seen him. After telling Quenuresh about Vorgitarl and seeing her out it was back to intensive planning.

When she'd finally waved farewell to Diamondflame, amid exhausted people and immortals, she'd been so tired she'd barely managed to stay awake to eat. In the back of her mind there'd also been the matter of darkings, but in the quiet morning she'd been able to talk to Ebony and discover with relief it was uninterested in what it called mating, and thought the darking way of dividing more efficient. Given that she was glad to secure privacy she didn't point out the two-being way was probably more fun. Ebony found the fact that her relationship with Dom was secret interesting, but only as behaviour to understand.

"Not allowed?"

"It's not that, Ebony. We're … entitled. But the people who want to hurt me would want to hurt Dom too."

"Who want hurt?"

That led to explanations she knew would go on for a while. Ebony readily grasped enmity, plotting, and treason, explaining that while it hadn't been created until after Ozorne's death it had the full knowledge of its progenitor, who had been of the first darkings. But the personalities, hatred from abstract causes, and sheer complexity of events since Kel had applied for page training made for a lengthy tale and many questions. Ebony hadn't hesitated, though, in finding hurting by proxy repellent, and was happy to agree mating was her business, so she was able over the course of lunch to murmur 'Tonight?' to Dom and receive a glance that made her shiver with its heat.

The afternoon was taken up with planning but when Fanche and Saefas left to begin organising an early springclean Kel went to tell Adner to start harvesting and identify things in need of doing. There wasn't much beyond scrubbing and re-painting—New Hope was kept clean in soldierly fashion, and with icelights, stone rooves, shrines, plumbing, and bustling discipline boasted more than many fiefs. Accommodation for the soldiers she was pulling in was another matter: soldiers were used to limited privacy and a siege was a siege, but everyone welcomed space to call their own and Kel wanted to do all she could. Dom's leg had made her sharply aware that wounded veterans might need a degree of privacy, and with bed-spaces cut directly from rock it was not beyond New Hope's capacities to sleep several hundred more people in a month's time than it could today. Petrin was puzzled by her insistence on what could be done in such a short interval, and perhaps the basilisks too; she didn't know what they might have learned from Diamondflame. When she ignored the question Petrin looked thoughtful and didn't ask again.

Dinner was enlivened by a private game of spotting darkings. Midwinter was marvellous cover for gifts and she gave a prize for ingenuity to Fanche, who sported a handsome necklace of

glossy black beads, supposedly from Saefas. With Dom she half-expected Button to live up to its name, and scrutinised the buttons of his tunic, distracted by thoughts of undoing them, before spotting thickened ties holding his captain's badge. As the meal ended she felt the anticipation in the hall rising, and resignedly hauled herself to her feet.

"Alright, people, you can guess something's up. I come back very unexpectedly—for me too, I assure you—and call an immediate Council meeting. Unless the winter suddenly decides it's going to happen we'll have important visitors before long, and there might be other things. And you all know what I believe will happen here sooner or later? Well, I'm beginning to think you can make that sooner, so Midwinter festivities or no I'm afraid preparations need to step up. Archers and fletchers, you're going to be especially busy. Fieldworkers too, as Adner will be starting winter harvest early." There were groans. "Look on it as a precaution. If it's not needed we'll all be ahead of ourselves, so you'll be happy. And if it is needed, you'll be very happy. Gods know there's nothing secret about Lord Diamondflame's visit, but I don't think we need talk to anyone about anything he did to Chargy and his friends. We know, but the less everyone else knows the better. Think about it—and don't talk about it." They were already thinking and shivering with the thought, as Kel would be if she let herself—dragonfire was as frightening as anything she'd ever seen—but she wanted to leave them with a cheerier note. "I've also good news. Mindelan's followed us in making a treaty with spidrens, and they'll be applying to us for leave to found a second branch of the Guild." Everyone liked the idea of being national leaders and Idrius understood what the precedent meant, toasting her with a wide smile. "I have an order for icelights from Corus Wardsmen worth a thousand gold nobles over five years." There was an explosive cheer. She raised her voice. "And for those of you who know an inn in Nipcopper Close, its owner says you'll be welcome to one drink on him when you next visit."

She sat down to a very straight look from Jacut but was collared by Idrius wanting to know the exact terms of the commission. Jacut drifted up as she left the messhall for her rooms, though.

"You was in Nipcopper Close, Lady Kel?"

"The Protector was, Jacut. She had business with His Majesty—icelights for Mutt Piddle Lane and her Maids' shops, mostly, though your name came up. Then we went to Miss Isran's wedding, and he was on high table, between a Jane Street Dog who teaches one of the self-defence classes and Prince Roald. What d'you think of that?"

Laughing, she left him looking after her with a dazed expression. If her own world was going to be regularly turned upside down she didn't mind if others were too, and the conjunction of seating at Lalasa's wedding would have been all over the lower city as fast as rumour could spread. Then there were Peachblossom, Hoshi, Jump, and the sparrows to see with Tobe, and his day to hear about. He had questions about darkings and what had happened building the abatis; she was trying to describe it when Ebony stretched itself into a thin sheet on which an image appeared, of Diamondflame magicking fallen trees from the earth and trimming crags. The display was so novel she found it as interesting as actually seeing him do it and Tobe was enthralled, filled with curiosity about dragonmagic and the Dragonlands. Those Ebony wouldn't show, but returning to amorphous form and extruding his head answered in darking fashion, and with a strange feeling Kel left him telling a story about how darkings had met Daine and learned choosing. It wasn't until the night shift came on duty and quiet descended that she heard the uneven tread she was waiting for, and by then was as impatient for Dom as a child for a promised treat. Her eagerness was returned, but after the first kiss he eased back to look at her.

"Ebony?"

"Telling Tobe a story. He and Irnai met them when I did."

"Ah, right. Will it, um—"

"No, it won't." Her eyes laughed at him. "We had a very strange conversation but it turned out Ebony has no interest in mating, which it thinks a very inefficient way of having children."

"It does? What does it know?"

"Everything. Nothing. I see you don't have your badge cords either."

His face fell. "You spotted them?"

"Only because I knew to look. I thought it'd be a button Button, but that was too distracting. Let me show you why."

Afterwards, lying with her head on his chest and feeling splendid ease, she told him about Mindelan, the Dancing Dove, and Lalasa's wedding. The limits of what she could properly say about the Council were unclear to her, and however others might abuse confidentiality she had no intention of doing so, but found she could admit having been brisk with the King and didn't mind telling Dom about asking if the Protector might visit the Rogue, with the interesting colours and silences that ensued. He was, she thought, amused and—horrified would be wrong, but perturbed by the world she was learning to live in, yet at the same time excited by it, or the thought of her in it, acting as she did. She suspected it had to do with her as a woman wielding authority and the lack of anything similar in the kind of women to whom he'd once turned; but as he demonstrated the excitement she stopped thinking about it. They were drifting towards sleep when she heard an interrogatory squeak, and pushed herself up on one elbow.

"Ebony?"

She saw the darking roll across the floor, a deeper darkness in the shadow, and slide up on to the bed. "Mating over?"

Dom looked so indignant she had to stifle a laugh. "For now. Problem?" "No problem. Tobe asleep. Show dragons dancing now?"

Her face lit up. "Oh, can you? I thought of that when you wouldn't show Tobe the Dragonlands. Is it allowed?"

"Dragonlands private. See dancing miles away. I show."

"Do." She snuggled next to Dom. "When we were watching the abatis teams yesterday, really humming with the rhythm of work, Ebony said it was beautiful and that dragons dance as beautifully on the wind."

Further explanation was unnecessary for the darking expanded itself into a sheet and the picture that formed stole their breaths. The sky might have been anywhere with clear air and a glorious sunset, but the great winged forms that dipped and wheeled, spiralling around one another with consummate grace and loosing streamers of fire that danced with them as light faded, were wholly beyond the mortal realm and followed her into dreams of grace and wonder.

January passed in a blur of work. The winter was as wet as it was mild and fieldworkers slogged from dawn to dusk in frequent rain to turn claggy soil, half-resenting the divine bounty that ensured a bumper crop in numbers even if size was reduced by early harvesting. That required guards, but when rain allowed Mikal had them practicing archery at specified ranges as well, ten minutes in the hour. Patrolling was restricted and Brodhelm's men used the ranges assiduously: they had the best swordwork but tended to neglect marksmanship, while for Uinse's and Dom's men it was the other way round.

Still worried about arrows Kel energetically pushed slingwork, thinking sadly of Merric. Stones were combed from fields, and some slabs cast down in excavating the Eyrie steps had shattered; an hour's roaring work by basilisks produced mounds of fist-sized fragments children lugged up the roadway. As for archery specific ranges were set out, at the distance of alure-to-roadway for precise aim, and at longer ranges for tight grouping of shots. Kel had lengths of rope made up, of fifty, seventy-five, and a hundred yards, and with Uinse holding one end on the outer alure marked those ranges on the ground beyond the moat. Such volleys might not kill but sufficiently tightly grouped could break bones, inflict gashes or bruises serious enough to slow attackers, and break up formations such as men with ladders.

Several ogre children were interested in slingwork, and one, Ventriaju, had a good eye and —being an ogre—a very serious arm. His longer-range accuracy was only a little better than anyone mortal's but at shorter range the speed and force of his shots was devastating, timber targets cracked clean across or sent cartwheeling. He was Kuriaju's nephew, and Kel spent an hour in careful discussion with the ogre leader and his parents before coming to agreement: other ogres would, as previously negotiated, help with labour rather than combat, but smiths would make Ventriaju a helmet and breastplate and he would have a roving assignment, seeking shots worthy of his strength. She had man-shaped targets set up for him beyond the glacis, and after a week he could take off a wooden head at a hundred yards four times out of five, with the fifth usually low rather than missing completely.

Unasked, Junior found her marking out ranges and dropped a bag of moulted feathers. Some were dusty and soiled, suggesting he'd scoured the nest, but it was still a priceless bonus and Kel offered a smiling bow and salute as he circled. He inscribed a tight loop before flying off to the north; Kel wasn't sure if it was general goodwill or a griffin apology for having skimmed so close to her head but wasn't complaining. Nor were the fletchers: she put in as much time as she could find, completing two arrows each night whatever else was on her desk, but it was the army bowyers, Urthor in particular, who worked through the bag, adding dozens of special arrows to the reserves.

The biggest headache was logistical. Each visiting company would fight best under its own officers and the simplest way was to assign each a stretch of alure. If all three resident and five visiting companies were retained in New Hope, ignoring the corral, a hundred men would have to watch five hundred feet of alure for twelve hours in twenty-four, and during an assault eight hundred men would have to hold two thousand feet. Before they took casualties that might be enough, but escalades wouldn't be evenly spaced and the attackers needed only one to succeed, so there had to be reserves. Sergeant Connac had that responsibility but Kel reinforced his squads with the best civilian sword- and axemen and—despite raised eyebrows—three squads of women with glaives. How they'd cope with combat was moot, and they had their own doubts, but climbing attackers wouldn't have polearms and if some did gain the alure a glaive squad might hold them for reinforcements to reach the gap in time. All reserves would be stationed in the north tower and there were simple things to practise—negotiating stairs at maximum speed with glaive in hand, and running the alure with arm and armour.

Which left the corral, where Dom had the fifty least experienced men and four hundred feet of alure protected only by abatis and moat. Unless Maggur knew about the tunnel it was

unlikely he'd try an assault there, but with those numbers any determined two-pronged escalade might succeed. Kel hoped enough squads might come as escorts—her father had had Anders despatch twenty men, ostensibly to escort him to Mindelan after the Council meeting, and she thought Imrah, Terres, Ennor, and Baird would each bring some, while Macayhill, Disart, and Blue Harbour might. Any veterans would be assigned there: Dom's command should be congenial, sensitive to whatever disabilities they might have, and their experience would be of great value to his green company.

And distantly there was the possibility of a sally force. After head-scratching discussions bogging in contingency Kel and Brodhelm sliced through to the core: if there was a large besieging force any sally would be late in the day, after the enemy had taken heavy casualties, and New Hope would inevitably take casualties too so who would be available was moot. The force would be made with whoever was available; what could be done was selection of the three hundred best horses and ranking men in order of preference, to be supplemented by enquiry among visiting companies. Sir Voelden, a superior rider who would be among the three hundred unless he was a casualty, took responsibility for drawing up lists and co-ordinating with ostlers and civilians responsible for saddling, and in discussing men's capacities he and Kel found a new phase of their working relationship. After hard thought about what the parameters might be if a sally did happen Kel also went to see Whitelist. Initially she made her business polite warning she'd reason to believe there would be action soon, and though she gave no details the centaur was aware at some level of immaterial forces gathering to a head. He still had little interest in ties beyond trade, but when she postulated a besieging force agreed that beyond harassment from cover the centaurs would bear in mind the possibility of sallying themselves. Kel went on to speculate about a sally aimed at an encampment north of the fin, observing that centaur archers coming over the stonebridge would be well placed to join the flank of a charge or cover those charging, and he nodded, fingering his bow. The centaurs were rubbing along, not crossing into partnership—and she hadn't considered entrusting Whitelist with a darking, but the careful discussion laid a basis of possibility.

Another afternoon was spent with Quenuresh and Aldoven. The presence of darkings lessened the likelihood of needing the spidren mage to enter an enemy camp using concealment spells but predation was another matter. Quenuresh wasn't keen but Aldoven thought his younger kin would be interested. Even one or two successful night forays might do much to deny the enemy ease and sleep, and besides the perennial attraction of careless sentries targets needn't be random. It could only be speculative but Kel described the probable makeup of Scanran forces, stressing that if Maggur's hardcore loyalists were dealt with his coerced and conscripted forces would be unlikely to fight on. In general she wanted the woods on every side to be forbidding places to anyone encamped round New Hope, and webbing daubed on a tree-limb or tent-pole might do much. Gathering deadwood should also be a hazardous activity—let Maggur's men for once need to guard every step—but there was an issue Kel hoped would arise as a siege progressed. Any mortal entering spidren territory in arms was fair game and few would make it out alive, but deserters willing to surrender, as Stanar and his fellows had, should be able to do it to spidrens. To her surprise Quenuresh and Aldoven found the idea of legitimately taking mortal prisoners amusing, and promised they'd offer terms if it came to it.

Through it all Ebony was a strange companion, intimate yet alien, and in their nature other darkings became known to her. Kel understood from the first there would be a commander's temptation to spy on subordinates, and any number of specious, plausible reasons for doing so, but she'd learned to delegate and thrived by trusting people so resisting wasn't a problem. Yet in gathering reports of how everyone was faring at day's end she did find Ebony offering supplementary information about this or that problem, usually because there was something darkings hadn't understood but as it came to know her and her men better also by way of commentary. It seemed equally to like Brodhelm's bluntness, Mikal's dryness, and Uinse's vivid colloquialisms, but subtleties of command that might determine why one erring man received

shorter shrift than another eluded them until Kel taught them what to look for. She regarded it as a form of exchange for their help and in an abstract way felt adding to darkings' formidable collective knowledge was itself worthwhile, sometimes telling Ebony that Trick's group might find this or that useful. Iron and Scarlet didn't report anything they weren't asked to by Quenuresh and Barzha save for one occasion when Ebony relayed, in an impressed squeak, an extraordinary tirade of stormwing cursing when one managed—as far as Kel could make out—to stub a claw. The language was so inventively filthy she went from surprise to a serene, floating soldier's appreciation, storing away choicer phrases.

That relay came late at night, lying in Dom's arms, and he shared her responses. Ebony was scrupulous about respecting mating habits, and Dom took to bringing Button as company, but the two did tend to appear when motion eased into talk. Sometimes they wanted to ask practical things and Kel was always happy to hear Dom tell some story of his military experience underlying a decision he'd made, as he was to hear her do the same. It became a way to share stories about parts of their lives of which the other was ignorant, Kel's Yamani childhood and his years in the Own before she'd become Raoul's squire; the presence of small interlocutors squeaking oddly articulated questions came to seem normal. To her surprise and Dom's initial consternation she found herself unconcerned about modesty before darkings, not bothering to drape herself before sitting up, and sometimes, if the night were wet and raw and sleep didn't seem close, going to sit with Dom before the fire, a blanket draped round them while they watched some scene. Combined, Ebony and Button could make a sharper image than either alone, and besides dragons dancing there was an astounding education available. Neither had ever seen sunbirds, which did not come to the Dragonlands, but a darking that had travelled in the Divine Realms with Daine and Numair had seen the fiery display. It was as Daine described, the glory of light that poured from the dull-looking birds at the apex of their climbs making Kel gasp; she could lose herself in that image as easily as in dragons on the wind.

The darkings declined to show gods but had one experience they were willing to relay, of Daine's parents' house. Mostly the images were of views from the windows, a glimpse of the Divine Realms that made Kel think of fabulous lands in fairy tales, but sometimes Weiryn or the Green Lady was briefly visible. There was also a vivid image of a darking caught by an amazingly long-haired marmalade cat, fabled Queenclaw; almost as interesting was that after peering at the quivering being held beneath a silver-clawed paw and twitching her whiskers she let it go with a powerful suggestion that it consider carefully who it spied for.

That Kel filed away to tell Daine, but there were other images she didn't want to remember even if she was glad to have seen them—Ozorne as a stormwing, possessed of greater malevolence than she'd ever sensed; a swaying rope bridge above an appalling chasm where the darking seeing it appeared to have been on an approaching hurrok and was filled with their rage and hatred; and three appalling creatures, an enormous hyena, a red-eyed rat, and the mangiest cur imaginable, that Ebony said were Slaughter, Malady, and Starvation. The rat and cur Kel could shake from her mind—she'd done everything she could to ensure New Hope had food, no-one since Duke Roger had attempted a magical plague, and she didn't expect any siege to last long enough for conditions to deteriorate so badly hunger and disease became issues. But the hyena was either the one she'd seen with the Hag or its twin, and she was left wondering about Scything Wheat as well as what defences she'd devised would do to Maggur's men, willing and unwilling alike, if they attacked.

Dom shared her visceral reaction but not her understanding, though she tried to explain how it seemed to connect. Amazingly to her he didn't mind not understanding, and in turn, surprising himself, tried to explain how he felt about the Lady Knight Commander whom potency, circumstance, and gods had partly removed from the circle of the world, and Keladry the woman he delighted to hold. Fumbling with its importance she spoke of her self-understanding as nested spheres, each with its duties and necessities, and found since his injury he'd thought something

similar of himself, but with the wounded man at the centre perpetually an ill-fit for everything greater.

A week after the ides the wagon train of food showed up, not from Steadfast in the usual manner but up the Great North Road from the depot at Queensgrace. With it came the first volunteers—two former corporals, friends who lived in the same village near Corus and had set out almost as soon as they'd had word through the quartermasters' network. One had lost an eye in the Immortals War but could still shoot fast and straight over shorter distances, the other had taken a shoulder wound that limited mobility in that arm but impaired neither his way with horses nor dexterity with a sword in the other; both were warmly welcomed and shown round with wide eyes. Like everyone, so far as Kel could tell, they'd heard stories about New Hope that ranged from gross exaggeration to outright lunacy, but their reactions to its reality were shaped by hard experience and their gruff praise meant a great deal. They'd left too soon to know of Roald's willingness to equip volunteers but besides horses and weapons had a surprising amount of new equipment that must have come from army depots and about which Kel was careful not to enquire while congratulating them on preparedness.

Thereafter men arrived in ones and twos every few days, and on a memorable afternoon a group of twelve ancient veterans of the Tusaine war. All had been contacted by Master Randall; all were bachelors or widowers who had—they said—collectively decided a call to arms was more important than pottering about on the thin pickings the Crown called a pension. A delighted Dom informed Kel that curiosity about the Protector of the Small and a place where immortals and women trained alongside regulars and convict volunteers had been just as important.

Kel made a point of introducing all arriving veterans at dinnertimes and honouring their service. All had retraining to undertake but when offduty hours coincided with the schoolday St'aara enticed them to tell stories of wars in which they'd fought. In the determination possessing New Hope as the scope of Kel's preparations sank in they found themselves popular and respected; and when Kel, through Dom, made it clear their service, however impromptu and whether Scanrans showed up, entitled them to residence in the fief if they wanted, there was a current of interest that promised well: if there was a well to promise.

The moon was a waning crescent when commanders began to arrive. Vanget brought not only a regular company that prided itself on archery but an assortment of mages and healers—for the experience, he blandly explained. There was nothing bland about his concerns with what Kel planned, and rather than briefing only officers, as he'd expected, she had the company assemble before dinner, by icelight, and after taking them briskly through standing orders and the chain of command they were entering, she laid out her worst case scenario. Their section of the alures was pointed out, as were practice ranges with marked alure-to-roadway distances. Clerks had information sheets for every man and detailed notes for officers; they were also on hand to record answers to her questions about the best two horseback fighters in each squad, and ranking of those men by standards she and Sir Voelden had devised. Then dinner was waiting, delicious as always, in the messhall with gleaming parti-coloured pillars. Sitting with her officers Vanget was warm in his congratulations to all who'd made that briefing and the reality it summarised possible.

"I'll tell you frankly I've had bad moments thinking about the mess this siege could be, if it happens, and it's been hard to hold off nagging Lady Kel by spellmirror, one or two nights. But I'll sleep better tonight. It's still half-way ridiculous—a minimum concentration of forces with no real plan—but you've all done a first-rate job. You got handed the short end of a heavy stick, and you've set yourselves as well as anyone could to whack Maggur with it if he shows. It's noted, and won't be forgotten."

In private, he was equally blunt but less cheery. The Eyrie was too windy and they wound up by the fire in Kel's sitting room.

"It's not half-way ridiculous, Kel, it's all the way. I grant offering Maggur bait makes sense, and I'd been wondering along those lines, but for the King to use himself and the Council is idiotic. I argued myself blue but he says it'll expose any treason as a bonus. Expose him, more like." He shook his head. "I don't know what's got into him."

"Mmm." Kel rose to fetch her tea set, going through the ritual of making as he watched, eyebrows raised. "It's a Yamani thing but I find it helps me think. This is just me, things I think not things I know." She poured, passed him a cup, and sipped carefully, feeling the calm the ceremony demanded and imposed. "Lately everything seems to have been circles, events lining up. It's an effect of the timeway, I think, but you could say the King has circles, and they've also lined up."

"Oh? Circles how?"

"Who and what he is, has to be, inside one another. There's His Majesty outermost, King of the Realm, whose duty is to his people. Then there's the Jonathan of Conté who's king and has to hold his throne for his heirs, and inside that the Jonathan who's husband and father, as any man might be. And innermost the man who looks in the mirror when he's alone, if that makes sense."

"It makes excellent sense."

"Well, they all want different things, but that's what I think has lined up. His Majesty wants peace, and I think that outermost shell wields the Dominion Jewel, which must be hard not to use when you've got it. He also thinks he can … there isn't a word, press the timeway by throwing himself in the scale. Then King Jonathan viscerally hates treason and wants it burned out like a bandits' nest, and so does Jonathan the husband and father because it threatens his family. And the inmost man is in play somehow because he seems to think I'll be Roald's Champion as Alanna is his."

Vanget's look was shrewd. "Lady Knights and necromancers?"

"I've never known what to think of Wyldon's idea. And I don't know I will be Roald's Champion. Shinko's, maybe, but even that doesn't fit. Because it's not about me, it's Jonathan's relationship with Alanna."

"Huh. That was a tangle. Still is."

"So I gather. What fits for me is that when we burned Rathhausak I became a specific target for Maggur, and His Majesty, King Jonathan, and Jonathan of Conté all saw in Runnerspring's demand an opportunity to stop waiting and act to get what each wanted. They're not seeing the risk, just rewards, but neither will be what they expect."

Kel hadn't expected that last sentence and wasn't sure what she meant but Vanget obviously agreed sufficiently not to think it odd.

"Good analysis, however speculative. You're young to understand the King that way."

"Am I? There's Keladry of Mindelan, the Lady Knight and Commander, the Protector … and Kel inside it all, wondering how to catch up with the rest of herself."

He laughed. "I suppose there must be. Still, does it help us to know His Majesty and the man inside the Crown have both dropped us in it?"

"Not much." Her grin was crooked. "But I've been assuming Maggur will be coming for New Hope with everything he can spare."

"From?"

"Holding hostages, Hamrkeng, and the forces at Steadfast, Mastiff, Giantkiller, and Northwatch for long enough to bleed us down and punch through. So I'd be interested to know how many men you think you'd need to delay any relieving forces for … a week, say. And those being left in charge at the forts might think about how they'd set about beating what you might call an encirclement rather than a siege."

She had a similar conversation when Raoul and Wyldon arrived, together, with escort companies—in Raoul's case the Own's Third, Wolset grinning among them—as well as the company Alanna had summoned from Frasrlund and two squads of Ennor's men; her father's twenty men from Mindelan had fallen in with them on the road and brought a letter from Anders and Inness with prayers for her safety. With another three-hundred -and-forty men New Hope was crowded, those coming off duty taking the beds of those going on and bedrolls spread in every barn, but Petrin's miners and the basilisks were still creating new spaces in the limestone, and novelty as well as the evident effort being made mollified grumbling. Kel's crisp introduction and plans were equally approved by her lords of Goldenlake and Cavall, the King's decision equally deplored, and her speculations about Maggur's strategy mulled with scepticism.

Seeing Wolset it crossed her mind to assign that squad to the corral but after an evening spent catching up with his old comrades Dom declined her offer. Besides not wanting to be the cause of a single exception in assignments of visiting companies to the alure, he felt their presence might be more disruptive than useful. Kel's problem was the opposite, old commanders looking over her shoulder, but Vanget was scrupulous in maintaining the line that he and the others were there as Councillors rather than her superiors, and mutual respect made it easier than it might have been.

Two days before the end of the month startled word came from Steadfast and Mastiff that owls had rung the bells on the gatehouses. Maggur's men were moving in numbers, but they had no way of knowing how many or where—or so they unhappily thought until Kel, after some private murmuring to her collar, told them the Stone Tree Nation would investigate. "It'll take a while—stormwings aren't fast, they can't use the spiral spell, and if this cloud extends that far they'll have to fly lower and longer to cover the ground."

Vanget opened his mouth like a fish and Wyldon gave him a sympathetic look. "I know. Keladry, you've stormwings scouting for you?"

"They'd only agreed to short-range stuff but I think Barzha's impatient."

Raoul laughed. "Only you, Kel. The spiral spell's what Diamondflame used to get you here? Corus in an hour?"

"Yes. He could tell us by tonight what was where, but it'll take the stormwings several days, I'm afraid."

Barzha's report would arrive by darking as and when she found anything, but that was another matter. The alert had the commanders worriedly speculating but Vanget couldn't strip more men from any fort until he knew how many Scanrans were where—losing an undermanned Steadfast or Mastiff with whatever rump garrison had been left would help no-one except Maggur. Kel left them to it, made sure via Ebony that Quenuresh was informed, and got on with drills, though she did order sally horses transferred to the corral; and the startlement of her visitors at the way Peachblossom and Alder marshalled them without fuss through the tunnel was a gratification.

It was surprisingly early next afternoon, the eve of Imbolc, that the horn blew from the Eyrie and Ebony informed her a large party had turned into the valley from the Great North Road.

Hastening up the steps Kel didn't give a thought to the horrid drop beyond the railings, and a brief survey through her spyglass confirmed the presence of the First, unmistakable in gleaming armour, and besides the group of nobles at least another hundred armed men whose motley equipment spoke of personal escorts and veteran volunteers. Some quick words to Ebony as she started down again confirmed to all with darkings this was the King and Council, who must have left Bearsford very early or camped on the road, and others could now know the final guests' identity—news that even before she reached the gatehouse was spreading like wildfire.

Kel had thought about ceremony but compromise was necessary. Welcomes aside, there were the First and other troops to brief, and for all her insistence on a thorough spring cleaning she was more interested in presenting an efficient strongpoint than a sophisticated fief-to -be; but a king was a king, and by the time the First reached the bridge and swung directly towards New Hope Uinse's men—a pointed choice—were formed up as an honour guard. One of her hasty notes in Corus had been to Ettenor, mentioning the Honesty Gate and asking him to discuss it with the King, and her precaution bore fruit when the First halted at the moatbridge and stepped aside to let the noble party through, Jonathan and Alanna at their head. They mounted the roadway side by side, Councillors behind; those coming for the first time were peering up the glacis with interesting expressions, not least Runnerspring's, and some quite different startlement as they saw Pizzle and his fellows staring blankly across the valley. Kel and her captains waited at the turn of the roadway, and their presence with the narrow rise beyond made it a natural point to dismount. Kel's allies promptly followed suit, leaving others little choice but to do likewise, and after formal greeting she gave her practiced speech about the Gate. Jonathan gravely accepted her welcome, offering congratulations on the inverted Scanran standards on the wall, which he hadn't seen in the elemental's vision, and she fell in beside him up the last stretch, Alanna behind. Her captains stayed at the turn, in courtesy and in case anyone needed a steadying hand; she'd named no names but Turomot was past eighty and Nond no younger. Squarely under the lintel Jonathan of Conté declared his name and desire that no harm befall any at New Hope, and the first of Kel's tests was set in motion. Having visited before, Alanna, Numair, Harailt, her father, and Terres might have been waved through but unhesitatingly made declarations, and moved only slowly through the barbican, waiting on others behind. All was smooth until Kel heard what she'd been half-waiting for—a challenge from Jacut, duty commander of the gatehouse while Uinse was outside.

"You haven't completed your declaration, my Lord."

It was of course Runnerspring, and Kel looked at him coolly, the King at her shoulder and the others turning back with frowns.

"It's simple, my Lord. As well as declaring your name you say that you intend no harm to any at New Hope."

"I did."

His voice was trying for angry but to Kel sounded fearful and she glanced at Jacut with a raised eyebrow.

"He spoke his name, Lady Kel, as Lord Carolan of Runnerspring, then mumbled something I couldn't hear."

"Perhaps you'd repeat yourself more clearly, my Lord. As you have heard all others do, including His Majesty."

"Come on, Runnerspring." Nond behind him was impatient. "Don't want to be hanging

about."

Trapped, Lord Carolan glared at her. "I intend n—, n—"

His voice ground but no words came. As the failure registered Kel's voice hardened. "I mean no harm to any at New Hope. It's not difficult, my Lord. Providing it's true."

"Well, of course it's t—, t—"

"It doesn't sound it. Speak the words, my Lord, or I must infer you do mean harm to someone here." There was ugly silence around Carolan's guttural attempts to speak. "What an interesting situation." Kel's voice was cool. "Legally, I cannot deny a King's Councillor entry. Practically, I must assume your hostile intent, and I have an overriding duty of care to all under my command. So let's try this, my Lord—do you intend harm to anyone now at New Hope, or about to enter it, except me?"

He tried hard but the griffin magic forbade his 'no', and Kel turned to the King. "Your Majesty, under the circumstances I must ask you to forgive three insults to your Councillor. He will be disarmed, guarded at all times within New Hope, and his bags searched."

"You bitch!"

Runnerspring's voice was cracked and part of Kel's mind wondered how the Honesty Gate judged the truth of his shout as she watched faces darken. She heard arrows nock and beat the King by a second.

"Hold."

"And hold your tongue, my Lord. All else aside, we are the visitors, and Lady Keladry commands. I take no insult from her wise precautions and neither will you."

"Your sword, my Lord, and any weapon you bear—carefully, if I were you. The last person who drew on me in this barbican is buried at Haven." He hated it but surrendered his sword, and Jacut patted him down, removing a belt knife and boot dagger. Memory tugged at Kel. "Jacut, assign two men to watch Lord Carolan until we can organise proper shifts, and have his baggage stacked in the squadroom until it can be searched. Meantime"—her eyes found the black robe behind Nond—"Numair, will your bracelet detect a sleeping drug as well as a poison?"

He frowned. "I think so, Kel. They're poisons too, just not fatal." "What are you doing?" Runnerspring was sweating.

"Being cautious, my Lord." She extended her left hand towards him, without result; then moved to his horse, holding her wrist close to each pannier. The first seemed harmless but by the second green flared, and her voice became cold. "What drug do you have in here, my Lord?"

"I don—"

"What you don't, my Lord, is learn. Under this lintel you cannot lie. What drug is here?"

He said nothing, glaring as sweat trickled down his face.

"Hold him, Jacut."

"You dare!"

"I dare much to keep my people safe, my Lord." She lifted the pannier, set it down, and squatted. Beside a sheaf of papers, bag of coin, and rolled cloak was a fat vial of brown liquid, wrapped in cloth, and she carefully lifted it out. "Numair, can you identify this?"

He came forward, took the flask, and cautiously worked out the stopper. His nose wrinkled. "Dreamrose—a tincture." He restoppered it and held it to the light, shaking gently. "Very strong, and quite fresh."

Kel looked at Runnerspring, voice carefully neutral but still cold. Underneath it rage pulsed. "Why do you need dreamrose, my Lord, in such a form?"

"I don't sleep well." He wouldn't meet her eyes.

Even without the Honesty Gate Kel would have bet that was true. "Numair?"

"It's far too strong for personal use. Properly diluted, one drop of this would make pills for a week. Undiluted, three would kill."

"Why do you have it, Runnerspring?" Nond had come forward, his wrinkled face genuinely puzzled. "I've used that stuff to sleep too, and Numair's right—no-one carries it in that form."

"Unless you purpose is to render many people unconscious, my Lord. Or dead." She'd done as much herself once, on the Smiskir Road. "In any case, Lord Carolan plainly cannot honestly say he intends no harm, and had to hand a means of causing it for which innocent explanation is hard to imagine." She spoke with flat authority. "Lord Carolan, you bring grave suspicion on yourself and New Hope is on the front line. We take no needless risk. You may enter here, as is right while you remain a Councillor of His Majesty, but you are not at liberty. Jacut, His Lordship will be confined to his room, door guarded, save for designated sessions of the Council. There will also be a formal inspection, I imagine, and that will be authorised, but otherwise he goes nowhere. Serve him meals in his room, which we will make the first set of rooms in the cave."

It wasn't the cell but it had only one door and no windows, and Jacut's eyes flashed appreciation. "Lady Kel."

"You cannot imprison me!"

"Yes she can, my Lord, and with Our consent" The King's voice was mild but his eyes weren't. "You have a great deal of explaining to do."

"Carry on please, Jacut."

They marched him away, bitterly silent and, Kel thought, badly frightened. Everyone was disturbed, uneasily murmuring as she eased the queue into movement again, welcoming Nond and hearing his declaration before rejoining the King, who gave a tight smile but said nothing. With the last Councillors in she could lead the shaken procession to where her own council waited, with Vanget, Wyldon, and Raoul. Despite what had happened she enjoyed introducing her King and the other great nobles to Fanche, Saefas, Var'istaan, and Kuriaju. She also enjoyed apologising for the absence of Quenuresh and Her Majesty Queen Barzha Razorwing of the Stone Tree Nation, her face a great deal blander than most guests', though Imrah gave her a wink. The bustling vista of shelf, main level, and terrace beyond was a satisfactory diversion, and she was naming buildings when a guard cried out.

"Lady Kel—on the gatehouse."

Turning, she saw the hawk land on a merlon. For a second a fierce golden eye stared at her, then the bird hopped forward, carefully grasped the chain dangling from the clapper of the warning bell, and with a flick of its head rang it sharply twice.


	28. Chapter 26

Resistance

Chapter Twenty-Six — Resistance

8 – 9 February

To an untrained eye the view from the gatehouse roof was spectacularly grim. The traitor knights and their motley companies had been swept into a loose mass near the fin by a stream of Scanran troops making camp at a respectful distance from the walls. These were veteran regulars, setting about their business with practiced efficiency, and by the time more ragged conscript companies began joining them a pattern had been established even greenhorns could follow. The wagon train was still several miles away, with a group of giants ambling beside labouring mules; a larger group with the tallest giants—twenty-five footers—were standing by the river, bellowing defiance. Several hundred feet above, skimming the underside of grey cloud, stormwings circled lazily and no-one could doubt they had plenty to feed on.

To the trained eye things weren't much less grim but Kel knew the flaws to look for. The stormwings had done their best to map the column, and she could match visual cues to their guide. The conscripts were obvious, with the poorest armour and weapons and the least clue, but coerced troops who made up the bulk of the van could be told from loyalist companies forming the core. It was subtle—slight differences in uniform, close similarity of weapons, a prevalent style of officer's cloak, and a certain swagger in loyalists—but once seen distinctive, and as Kel worked it out she observed aloud, knowing Ebony would relay to her captains. Battle was battle and niceties disappeared fast, but loyalists would be targeted by preference.

The baggage train was trickier, and at the rear with giants was a section of lumber wagons that tempted Kel. It was probably siege engines and getting rid of them might save much grief— but she had plans for anything made of wood or even metal, and the other possible target was too important. The forty wagons at the front of the train, loyalist companies fore and aft, were unmistakably a commissariat—eight cookwagons, two with cauldrons and tripods, and thirty piled with supplies—and the whole assemblage of loyalists and food would be nicely bracketed by the four rockfalls on that side of the valley. Food didn't burn as well as wood and couldn't be replaced in a wet northern February. The company in front of the first wagon was nearing the weed concealing the most southerly fall and Kel straightened, murmuring.

"Ebony, please ask Shale to tell the King and General Vanget they should look at the wagon train, just south of Haven."

She crouched to open the box of mageblast keys, and carefully took the right set, checking the lettering on each, Rockfall West and a number, 1–4. The keys were too thick to snap all at once, and she paired 1 and 4, 2 and 3, setting them carefully on the crenel. A check through the spyglass showed she had a couple of minutes, and she watched for one before setting the glass down and picking up the 1-and-4 pair. The morale of her own people was going to matter, so she put her free hand to her lips in a sharp whistle; as heads turned she raised her arm and swung it down, regretting with all her heart the mules and sending up an apologetic prayer to their god as she tensed her fingers.

"So it starts."

The cracks of keys snapping were barely audible beyond the gatehouse roof but to Kel echoed loudly. The mageblasts were too far away to be heard, but she could see greenery start to

shiver. Then the slope above men and wagons slid into lines of motion, still in silence, throwing up a haze of dust and fragments as its tide flowed to engulf them, and sound began, a great rumble felt as well as heard that continued for long seconds after visible motion ceased. The dust made it hard to see but frantic men left standing between falls and companies breaking formation to run back was evidence enough, and Kel became aware of cheering and Brodhelm's grim smile beside her. Her nausea was balanced by a satisfaction more than professional, for men who had enabled Maggur's necromancy and wanted to kill her people were dead, but she knew the mules would haunt her dreams.

Besides casualties and what Kel hoped would be a critical loss of food the road was blocked, and if troops north of the fall could detour through fields laden wagons could not. But the Scanran response was impressive, desperate individual efforts swiftly superseded by lines of soldiers passing rocks to dump beyond the road, and others pulling out injured and more often dead, laid in a growing line in the field. As the rescuers reached smashed and jutting timbers, giants were called in to help; dead mules began to be pulled out. Dented cauldrons and bent tripods might be serviceable, but grainsacks had been torn open and work slowed as the Scanrans recovered what they could.

Cloestra had agreed to observe and was circling a hundred feet up when she abruptly rose, climbing sharply away to circle briefly at much greater altitude before heading back. All the stormwings aloft had risen too, evidently wary. Kel stood back and Cloestra glided in to land on a merlon, claws scritching on stone.

"What did you see?"

"Mages, Protector—one who is strong, and another. The strong one has the Carthaki spells to control immortals and let us know it. We will not be able to fly as low as we had hoped. But just now that mage's more important task is to gather spilt grain and roots. Your blow was shrewd."

"And casualties?"

"Sixty-one dead I counted, and more yet beneath stone. As many more with broken bones and twice as many who bleed and limp."

Some of those dead would be cooks but most must be from loyalist companies, and even in a force of seven thousand, two-hundred-and-fifty casualties would be felt. There was also the delay.

"How long before they can clear the road?"

"Two hours at least, Protector. Magic may sift grain from dust but sacks are yet required." Steel teeth glinted. "And those mages may find their concentration interrupted."

She dropped from the merlon, flapping into a climb and disappeared round the fin as Kel glared after her, question stillborn. There weren't a lot of options, but who knew what stormwings might think up? There had been venom in Cloestra's voice when she mentioned those spells, and Kel turned to Numair. "Does that tell us anything we didn't know?"

"Maybe." Numair shrugged. "Only a red or black robe can cast those spells, though others can then use them, and not every red robe knew how—just Ozorne's special pets. But Gissa of Rachne and Tolon Gardiner were on my list already—Gardiner's only a yellow, but he was at Dunlath where those spells were used. There are at least two more reds and five or six yellows unaccounted for, but one red probably died in Sarain, and the other is thought to be with pirates in the southern Emerald Ocean."

"So you think it's Gissa and Tolon?"

"I'm beginning to, Kel. That remark of Runnerspring's sounded like he'd heard someone boast, and they're more likely to talk that way than anyone I don't know."

Kel knew enough of Dunlath to understand—the Arram Draper Carthakis had known as a hopelessly impractical student was not Numair Salmalín after twenty years' service to Tortall, but first impressions died hard. "Even after you turned that other one into a tree?"

"Perhaps—I think both were fleeing Dunlath by then."

Brodhelm blinked. "You really turned someone into a tree, Master Numair? I'd heard the story but thought it a tall tale."

"I did, I'm afraid, Brodhelm—a mage called Tristan Staghorn. He was threatening Daine and I had no time for anything fancy."

Brodhelm blinked again. "Treeifying isn't fancy?"

Numair smiled, though Kel could tell the memory was painful. "Not really—a word of power does it. And turns some poor tree into a person. It took me a year to find him, in western Jindazhen."

"Huh. What kind of trees?"

"Apple, both times."

Kel left them to the improbable conversation, returning to her spyglass, and found patience rewarded by the return of Cloestra with other stormwings, circling above labouring mages and soldiers to release ordure with surprising accuracy, and by one and then another soldier falling to plunging arrows. The fire from the treeline above the rockfalls was deadly accurate, and could only be from centaurs who'd come along the ridgeline, presumably prompted by Cloestra. Spells that worked on stormwings must threaten centaurs too, and if their fire was no more than sniping it slowed things further, forcing the Scanrans to post shieldmen. Two squads were despatched to take direct action, struggling up the steep slopes and disappearing into the trees. They would be lucky if all returned, Kel thought bleakly, and a while later a hoarse scream that rose and faded told her she'd been right. Nor had men blundering through the trees stopped the fire, and watching carefully she decided there were four centaurs at work, all of whom knew exactly how to take advantage of the angles they were creating moving back and forth along irregular eaves and crags, and of their height advantage.

The delays became great enough that Kel began to think it would be tomorrow at least before the Scanrans were in any position to mount any attack. Even when those lumber carts could continue siege engines would need assembling, and that might take a day or two. For all his cunning and superior forces brought to bear Maggur's window of opportunity was limited, and tactics to slow him ran in her mind alongside need to bleed his forces, especially loyalists; there were also questions about accumulating delays and the morale of his men. Eyeing the expanding Scanran camp she had Ebony ask Seed to tell the sentries in the Eyrie to find out how far their bows would range from that height, and though she didn't see anyone hit the arrows that began to plunge among bedrolls and half-erected tents caused satisfactory panic, with rippling effects. The orderliness of the growing camp disappeared as incoming companies milled about, and the regular layout became warped as its lines had to bend away from the fin. Disputes broke out that eventually called someone senior from attempts to recover food.

Kel studied the officer's bearded face, committing it to memory and having her captains do

so as he brought harshly renewed discipline to the mêlée. He didn't resemble Stenmun, though blond hair and beards made many Scanrans superficially similar, but his hard competence and ready resort to controlled, effective violence were familiar. It wouldn't be fair to ask Stanar but she'd bet he could put a name to this man, and that he stood high in Maggur's regime.

Once he was done bringing order and had marked out a camp-line fifty yards further back than the longest arrowshot the sentries had managed, he strode over to the knot of Tortallan flags in a notably messier bivouac Genlith's traitors had established at the edge of the Scanran camp.

Kel's professional admiration rose with her fear and regret. In thinking there would be no assault before dawn she'd been reckoning on experienced Scanran commanders, not Tortallan knights fuelled by resentments, blinkered by misplaced confidence, and fired up by having openly crossed into treason. Watching the bustle the Scanran started she realised they were stupid enough to do what he must be asking, and wouldn't even realise he'd expect—want—them to be killed.

But there was to be an interlude. As mixed troops began forming up, the colours of Genlith and Runnerspring prominent, two knights started towards the moatbridge, the one behind carrying a truce-flag on a lance. As they came nearer she identified Guisant and Garvey; even at this distance they looked cocky, but as the glacis and palisades began to loom above them their faces became set. Kel raised her voice.

"Hold your fire. We'll hear what they have to say." She leaned through a crenel to watch them. "Any instructions, sire?"

There was a pause before she felt Ebony's head brush her ear.

"King say carry on. Say traitors better dead. Trials messy."

"Oh he needn't worry about that, if they attack up the roadway."

"General say to King you right. Scanrans use traitors first, make you use traps."

It hadn't occurred to Kel she could eavesdrop on Vanget and the King as easily as they on her. "I'm not sure you should be reporting what Vanget tells the King, Ebony, unless he means me to know."

"Only if interesting. What traps?"

"The roadway's a killing field. But hush now. They're nearly here."

Guisant and Garvey reined in at the turn of the roadway. She considered going down, and had the Scanran accompanied them would have done so, but there was no parlaying with traitors and nothing much she could learn from either knight she didn't already know, so she waited, looking down until their heads tilted back enough to see her.

"Sir Guisant, Sir Garvey. Have you thought better of your treason?"

The polite enquiry carried along the alure, as she'd meant it to, and she saw Garvey's flush and the anger on Guisant's face.

"You won't be joking soon, bitch. You're finished, you and our weak, stupid king. But we don't want to kill men only doing their duty. Surrender now, you and the King, and we'll leave everyone else alone. Otherwise we'll be through your gate before nightfall and everyone goes to the sword, so you'd best go get someone competent to decide."

Kel felt a kind of pity for a warped, bone-stupid man who had no idea he'd almost certainly be dead very soon. She kept her voice grave, and let it carry. "There are problems with

that plan, Sir Guisant, besides the facts that as a manifest traitor you cannot be treated with and that I command here. Only a fool would trust you or Maggur, and only an honourless man would turn over comrades to an enemy. It's also surpassingly stupid to think we'd hand you a victory Maggur desperately needs when we can hand you bloody defeat, and will if you attack. Have you asked yourselves why that Scanran wants you to make the first assault? Or why he's brought six thousand men to try to do what you think you'll manage with five hundred?"

"They'll be heading south, fool, while this place smoulders in ruin."

"Really? To Corus, perhaps? Or do you still believe Maggur wants only the lands King Jasson conquered? What would you be doing in his shoes, Sir Guisant?"

To her surprise Garvey spoke, trying to sound sincere but only managing an oily unpleasantness. "Keladry, I know we've never got on, but you must see reason. You can't want everyone slaughtered and we know how few soldiers you have. Think of the children. Spare them at least."

Rage glimmered in Kel's vision. "By handing them to a king who planned to have them all raped and killed by a necromancer, Sir Garvey?"

"That's just a wild story. They'll be looked after, we promise."

"A wild story? Do you remember who killed Blayce the Gallan, Sir Garvey? And who else was there? Perhaps you think all six hundred of us made it up and burned Haven and Rathhausak to pass the time." She was weary of them and this delay accomplished nothing. "Unless you will surrender and plead for mercy, get you gone."

Guisant's face darkened but Garvey spoke again. "Then I would speak with my father."

"I imagine you would, but I'm afraid he's confessed his treason and is imprisoned so that's not going to happen."

Garvey's veneer peeled away. "I'll have him free by nightfall and then we'll see what's going to happen."

She ignored him, pulling away from the crenel and hearing their horses' hooves as they turned back down the roadway. "Brodhelm, the men on inner west and both off-duty west companies to outer west, please. Master archers should target knights and officers first, but if they really come straight up we'll be aiming for a clean sweep. No special arrows, and no-one fires before I do. I'll use blazebalm bombs and keep the pit-traps in reserve."

"Ay, Lady Kel. They should be enough for this lot."

He walked away, giving quiet orders Biscuit would relay, and she saw men beginning to move towards the north tower. Her orders would put four hundred men along the outer alure—not one man per crenel but four, and the fire would be continuous at short, well-practiced range. They could kill all the attackers that way but the expenditure of arrows would be dangerously high, and despite visceral reluctance she knew she had no choice but to use some of New Hope's concealed teeth even though that was exactly what the Scanran wanted.

The keys for the bombs had posed a problem. Each was small, a long splinter of wood, but with bombs every fifteen feet along more than nine hundred feet of roadway there were over sixty of them. Five or ten could be broken in one go, but holding them was fiddly, so most had been loaded into three dowels, each drilled to hold twenty keys securely with one end projecting like teeth in a comb. Each dowel had keys to every third bomb, numbers carefully inked at the base of

each—1, 4, 7, 10 …; 2, 5, 8, 11 …; 3, 6, 9, 12 …—so any individual bomb could be used on its own or all twenty detonated at once. Kel hoped one full dowel would be enough, and the regular pattern of exploded bombs, every forty-five feet, should not suggest that for every one used two remained. Carefully she lifted the first dowel from its slot, and taking godbow and quiver went down to the gallery in the fin. Only one squad was assigned there, and she stopped as she turned into it, seeing Alanna, Raoul, and Wyldon leaning against the wall. Alanna glanced up.

"Hi, Kel. We were getting in the way on the alures—supernumerary to your excellent system, and none of us good enough archers to warrant displacing anyone. Mikal suggested we come here. Are we in your way?"

"Not at all. Do you have bows?"

"Oh yes—borrowed but good."

Alanna picked hers up from the shadows and as her eyes adjusted Kel saw Wyldon and Raoul had theirs beside them. She heard grunts of effort as they were strung, and smiled apology at a soldier as she asked him to move to another crenel and set the dowel down. The godbow was warm in her hand as she braced it to slip the string over the nock.

"With fourteen bows here I can let more of them past Chargy before the bang. If the knights are leading—or Genlith, if he's stupid enough—it's better we four take them down. More fitting, I suppose. The King wants them dead, not captured for trial."

"What bang, Kel?" Raoul grinned, teeth gleaming. "Are we going to have some nice explosions?"

She held up the dowel. "Twenty blazebalm bombs packed in rock fragments and gravel. All the way along."

"How much blazebalm?"

She set the dowel on the rock before her. "A pound apiece."

"Gods, Kel, it'll be brutal."

"Yes. And the King thinks treason trials will be messier."

"You've spoken to him?" Wyldon was frowning. "I haven't seen you leave the gatehouse

roof."

"Yes, we spoke. He said to carry on."

Alanna cocked her head. "Um, do I take it you told him about …?"

"Yes, he knows and is probably listening."

"Ah. Cavall and Raoul do know they exist, by the way."

"That what exists, Pirate's Swoop?"

"Darkings. Some decided to volunteer. Kel and her captains have one, as do Barzha and Quenuresh, so we're in touch."

A thought bloomed in Kel's mind and she flushed as she turned to Raoul. "That's how Barzha reported. I'm sorry I lied—I'd promised to conceal their existence for as long as possible."

"Oh. Well, needs must. Don't worry about it, Kel. Darkings, eh? I remember Goldstreak alright."

She looked gratitude and he winked as Ebony squeaked in her ear.

"Say hello now?"

"Why not?" The dismounted knights were still organising men to rush the roadway, so she had a few minutes and part of her had always hated the secrecy, especially from friends and her own people. She took off her bascinet, shaking sweat dampened hair. "This is Ebony." She felt her collar twitch as his head extruded. "Meet Alanna of Pirate's Swoop, Wyldon of Cavall, and Raoul of Goldenlake. My teachers."

She heard squeaks of greeting and their replies, and was aware of soldiers gawking. She might have ordered them to get eyes back where they belonged but curiosity was better satisfied, and her gaze was locked on the men assembling beyond the moatbridge, seeing a formation take shape. Hired men, understandably, were reluctant to take the van, and from the look of it several knights would be there, with others among liege-troops and mercenaries. Did they suppose they could push the gate open, as they seemed to suppose the fire they'd face would be paltry? Even they couldn't be that stupid, and a careful look through her spyglass showed two pairs of thickset men just behind the van, carrying little barrels that looked heavy. The traitors had blazebalm of their own and she interrupted Ebony's squeaking to point out the carriers, passing her spyglass so everyone could look.

"I'll try to get them with bombs but if they get past Chargy they're priority targets. And if you do hit one watch where those barrels go. We don't want anyone picking them up to carry on."

"Right you are, Kel." Raoul passed her spyglass back. "If that's blazebalm, though, it'll probably go up with the bombs."

"Let's hope." Her voice slipped into command mode and she put her bascinet back on. "Eyes front. They're coming."

She was deeply grateful that even the knights were on foot and she wouldn't have to kill horses, but the scale of slaughter she knew she would inflict was a lead weight. Images of Runnerspring's leaking hand and dead mules floated in her mind. Sixty-one and however many had seemed a lot to add to her personal bodycount, but when she snapped these keys those numbers would be dwarfed. The dowel should be burning her hands but the wood was cool in her fingers and she wasn't even sweating, coldly determined to do whatever was necessary, whatever the cost. As she watched knights labouring up the roadway in half-armour, kegmen and straggling column behind, she spoke her prayer of apology for the Black God's mercy aloud, asking it for herself who held the keys, and her people with all who fought alongside them, and traitorous or misled or hired fools running to doom. She knew her friends were surprised but her soldiers weren't, and a choric 'So mote it be' affirmed trust in her, who in turn trusted the god whose face she'd seen despite the weight squeezing her heart.

The knights had almost reached Chargy, and she identified Guisant, Garvey, and Belar of Heathercove, Quinden a little behind. The kegmen had dropped back, labouring under their burdens, and men with Genlith's badge and Torhelm's passed them, a gap opening up before the Grotens with liegemen and hired men trailing. She watched the knights stagger round the turn and push for the gate, ragged, whooping breathing clearly audible, but her eyes were on the kegmen, half-a-dozen strides short of bomb number 4, sixty feet below Pizzle, and the dowel was in her hand, keys against cool stone. Two, one, she bore down, feeling the sudden, rippling snap, and the roadway disappeared into fire and sound.

Light blinded her and she felt rock tremble as roaring thunder battered her ears and echoed across the valley. A vast ball of glowing black smoke obscured the roadway and the stink of blazebalm burned her nose. She felt stunned, as she had when she'd first jousted and felt the hammerblow of Raoul's lance on her shield; the hand that held the dowel ached fiercely but then the godbow was in it, warm and singing, and wrenching her eyes from the burning cloud she could see the knights who'd been in the van and the score of liegemen who'd made it with them not fifty feet away, gaping horror. Her first arrow took Guisant in the throat, her second punched though Garvey's breastplate. She was aware in some part of her mind that he was the second fellow-page she'd killed and of his father's blood as a shrieking stain on her conscience, but there were enemies at her gates and the godbow was eager. She fired three times more before the roadway in front of the gatehouse was clear of the living, and her gaze tracked down, seeing Belar and Quinden riddled with arrows and came to the long straight, heart hammering.

The smoke had spread and lifted and the whole killing field she'd designed was becoming visible again. Fires—people—burned along its length, and she could smell the rank sweetness of charring flesh amid blazebalm stink. Every bomb had worked and every one had devastated, chopping great gaps in the running soldiers. Bodies lay tumbled; some had been blown over the outer edge to fall to the abatis or into the moat. Of the kegmen and their burden there was no sign, and from the glowing carnage where they had been she assumed their blazebalm had exploded too. Isolated groups left standing, singed and splattered, were being ruthlessly cut down from the alure and the gallery beside her; few had plate armour and at this range needlepoints went through chainmail and leather as if they weren't there. Those at the very base and the lucky few who hadn't made it over the moatbridge were pelting away, weapons abandoned in frantic haste, and she swallowed bile, working her mouth to wet it, and shouted the ceasefire.

Where there had been more than five hundred men breathing and running a moment before perhaps thirty were still alive, scattered in ones and twos from two or three hundred feet below Pizzle to the base of the roadway. As they realised the murderous fire had stopped they began stumbling down, staggering round bodies and through bombzones, slipping on blood and viscera. The scraping of metal on stone when they fell seemed to echo in terrible silence, the faces of her people on the alure still as they absorbed what they had done and smelt the charnel-house she had created. Her eyes followed the rearmost man until she could bear it no longer and leaned through the embrasure to look across the valley. The Scanran soldiers who'd assembled in front of their camp to watch the charge were silent, rows of white faces in the long shadow of the fin. Before them was a knot of officers, the man she'd watched earlier among them. His face was turned towards her, and though she knew it was absurd at this distance she felt they were looking into one another's eyes. His hand rose in a salute and he turned away, saying something; men began coming forward to meet the lurching survivors and gather the spooked horses the dead had left behind.

Jonathan had only seen the lookout post crowded with Councillors and found it more spacious than he remembered, with a warmth in the air he traced to blocks of heated stone. There were others to sit on and Tobe had brought cushions. There were also two soldiers with magemarks, but after offering an awkward bow one left; Tobe introduced the other as Sorin Carter, explaining that with them here the duty watch was reduced to one, and went to make tea.

"Wiv the lads in the Eyrie we're not so important, sir—Yer Majesty, I means—an' we knows where the enemy is anyway."

"So we do, Carter. And don't worry with the Majesties, please. We're all Lady Kel's men

today."

Carter smiled, pleased with the sentiment if dubious of the claim, but his eyes were on the approaching army and Jonathan busied himself settling on a cushion. Vanget had done the same and caught his eye.

"Like you and Her Majesty in court, sire, perched on either side."

"I was thinking the same." He blew out a breath. "How bad is it?"

"Not good, not hopeless. So much treason's a bitter blow, and gods know what'll happen when that news gets out, but militarily Kel's right it doesn't make much odds. And she's been right all down the line about what Maggur intended. Mmm. Is that darking available?"

"Yes, it's in my—"

Shale popped out of Jonathan's pocket and onto his legs. "I here."

"So I see. Can you tell me how long you've been at New Hope?"

Shale seemed to consider. "We come Midwinter."

"With Lord Diamondflame?" It was the only explanation that made sense to Jonathan.

"We volunteer. Dragonlands all talk, think, sleep. No doing. No fun."

"So you've been here a month. Are you spying on Maggur for Kel?"

"We not spies. We communicators."

"She wouldn't conceal that, Vanget. But opportunistic recruiting once I dropped her in it? From somewhere completely impossible and without a word to anyone? That's Lady Keladry all over."

"True. But I don't understand why she concealed them so long."

"That's my fault, I think. After the Immortals' War I had visions of a darking network feeding me perfect information from everywhere, and Daine took it badly—told me to my face I was being no better than Ozorne and more or less ordered them all to the Dragonlands to learn about choosing. Now they've chosen someone Daine trusts to look after them. That speech of Lady Keladry's was a relay, I'll bet, and the message the same as before—hands off."

Jonathan was aware of Carter listening avidly and snatching glances at Shale but didn't care, and Vanget was nodding.

"Alright, sire, that makes sense, in a Kel kind of way. I suppose I should be used to it by now, but every time I think I've got a handle on what she's doing she pulls something else out of her helmet. Commanding her's like being on a runaway horse, you know."

Jonathan grinned. "I suppose it must be. Daine was the same, but her power was more … personal. About being Godborn and a Wildmage. Lady Keladry's is different—she's clearly blessed by more than one god but her power's got no magic in it, for all magic's involved, and she's operating more politically." He hesitated but they were going to come to it sooner or later. "I'd not expected what she did today, though."

"Mmph. You didn't see her execute Rogal—she chucked after that too, and just like today stood back up, wiped her mouth, and carried on. Black God's grace or no she hated it, as she hated today, but if New Hope's at stake and she can take the cost on herself she'll do it in a heartbeat." Vanget leaned back against the wall. "I'm not sure I've ever seen anything braver, or done in colder blood. Carolan's no coward, and always a confident man, but she broke him in what? three minutes?"

"Not much longer. But I think you're wrong about cold blood. I've heard her voice go flat like that … four times—after Joren's trial; when she told Tirrsmont if he insulted her again she'd cut out his tongue; when she called three gods to strike Torhelm; and when she told me this last Midwinter I was playing a fool's game with her people's lives. It's utterly controlled rage, and she can use it like her glaive."

"Huh. That's what Wyldon thinks, so I expect you're both right. I haven't learned to see through that Yamani mask the same way, only enough to have some sense of what it costs her."

Tobe brought tea, with cups for Carter and himself, and sat on the steps. "Is there anything else I can get you, sire? General?"

Vanget shook his head. "I'm good, thank you Tobe. This is your duty station too while we're here?"

"Yes. Everyone under twelve is confined to the caves during action unless ordered otherwise, so Ma said to make myself useful fetching and carrying. If there's a sally call I've to saddle Alder."

"Fair enough. Your Ma likes things well organised, doesn't she?"

"You don't get nowhere in a muddle, and then people die."

"I wasn't complaining. Tell me, did you know about the darkings?"

"Yes. Ebony tells me stories about the Dragonlands, when I'm going to bed, and shows pictures."

"They can do that?"

"Oh yes." Jonathan leant forward. "They can show what any darking has seen. Odd perspective, often, but useful. Can you show us, Shale?"

"What see?"

"Where Lady Keladry is, and what's happening."

Shale rolled up the wall under the opening, flattening into an uneven rectangle. Colours swirled and a picture formed of the valley with a long tube sticking out—Keladry's spyglass as Ebony saw it.

"What's she looking at?"

Vanget heaved himself up, looking towards the gatehouse then across the valley. "Scanran wagon train. Just past Haven."

He sat, reclaiming his tea and scowling. "There's a lot of Scanrans, sire—Maggur must be using everything he's got."

"Too many?"

"Maybe. Depends what their mages are like and how cleverly they fight. It's not going to be pretty. I need to get to the spellmirrors, young Tobe, to find out how far Ferghal's men have come."

"You must tell Ma if you leave here."

"I will. But it can wait—they'll not be dawdling and I'm only fretting. It'd be good to— hello, what's up?"

Shale reblobbed. "Kel say, look at wagon train south of Haven." Both men were up in an instant, Tobe between them. "Kel break sticks."

"Kel do wh—?"

Tobe cut in. "Mageblast keys. It'll be the rockfalls—look!"

They saw the distant hillside move and heard the deadly rumble echo across the valley. Vanget was hopping up and down and Carter offered him the duty spyglass, which he snatched. Jonathan waited his turn to make out the chaos that had engulfed the Scanrans, and men beginning to try to rescue comrades. Vanget and Carter were sharing soldiers' pleasure at a successful blow but Jonathan wondered about the men who'd died and what Keladry must feel about their slaughter. Her face had been terrifying as she broke Runnerspring but once he'd started talking it had been stricken, and when she'd returned after retching she'd looked as miserable as anyone he'd ever seen; not that it had stopped her breathtaking efficiency.

"Beautiful, beautiful. That was his commissariat—a blow in the tripes and most of two companies as well. It's going to keep them busy a while, so I'll go talk to Northwatch, sire. They need to warn Riversedge to beware foragers. Shale, tell Kel I'm going to the spellmirrors."

"Telling."

He stalked off and Jonathan saw troubled eyes. "What is it, Tobe?"

"The General shouldn't give Shale an order like that. He didn't say please or thank you, but Shale's not under his command."

Jonathan suppressed a smile. "True. He's used to giving orders."

"So are you but you say them."

"Not problem."

"It's not right, Shale."

"No, it isn't, and I'll tell him when he gets back. He's just worried."

"So's everyone. That's no excuse."

"True. Can you tell me about those rockfalls?"

If it weren't for Scanrans and traitors massing it would have been a pleasant afternoon for Jonathan, eliciting stories of what Tobe had seen at New Hope. The boy was innocent but not artless: royal failure to check Tirrsmont had been keenly felt but Tobe skirted it, and if what he said was rich in implication he was reticent about his Ma. There were glimpses of a wounded

woman in his fierce protectiveness but his portrait was of a fabulous commander, not someone who tucked him into bed, and in the spaces he left you could have hidden an army. It was admirable but frustrating, for Jonathan badly wanted to understand the woman on whom he'd felt compelled to risk so much, and whose refusal to accept what to everyone else seemed inevitable was regularly standing Tortall on its head. He knew he had consistently, hopelessly underestimated her and was still doing so, hard as he tried, as if she were a test he was failing; part of his problem was her sheer potency, for if she could make Tortall a vastly safer place for Roald and Shinko to inherit she could equally cripple it. It had taken a long time and much persuasion by Thayet, Alanna, Raoul, and Wyldon for him to accept that the Keladry who'd emerged from Rathhausak wasn't a plotter or planner but one of those far rarer people who did things in a way that made others follow, around whom the gods were strewing blessings to ease her path. And once he did accept it, it did him little good, for he loathed prophecy with all its impossible compulsions and uncertainties but she had never doubted what Shakith had meant; even now, when he'd joined her in trying to ride the timeway, whatever it was, and forced things to this gamble in hope of exposing the sapping treason into which his southern and eastern mercantile lords had fallen, he found himself blundering along behind her sure stride.

Vanget returned, reporting that as Kel had predicted the besiegers of Northwatch, Mastiff, Giantkiller, and Steadfast showed little inclination to attack, and that Ferghal's men were moving. "Not as fast as I'd like, mind, but in the right direction."

The additional delay occasioned by arrows from the Eyrie cheered him, and Shale showed them Seed's view from beside the archers, but the subsequent stir among Tortallan traitors had both men sitting straighter. Even though Jonathan had known in his gut Runnerspring and Genlith were conspiring and others must be involved, confirmation hit him hard, and the sight of so many knights riding against loyal troops was a twisting pain. The banal bigotry involved was expected, and he understood the economic changes that were the real cause of an attempt to preserve personal wealth and privilege by arms, but coldly agreed with Lady Keladry that their trust in Maggur was grossly self-deluding and knew he harboured royal and personal rage at the price these men thought it worth others paying for their gain. He saw the two knights with a truce-flag just as the walls blocked them from view, and studied the force assembling.

"Are they really going to attack like that, on foot?"

"I'm beginning to think so. That officer's stirring them up."

"Isn't it suicidal?"

"It should be."

"Kel ask, instructions?"

"Just to carry on, Shale." He looked at Vanget. "At least some of the traitors will die. Frankly, I hope they're all killed. It'd be cleaner and better than gods know how many messy treason trials."

"If they try a rush you might get that wish, sire. I'm beginning to think Kel was right, again—that Scanran's using them as an expendable probe to make her use her defences."

"And leave fewer Tortallans for Maggur to reward if he wins." "Huh. Yes, he'd like that."

Shale couldn't relay speech as it could the image of Sir Guisant and Sir Garvey, but Jonathan could read their lips—a useful skill Sir Myles taught—and there was sneering contempt

in both faces. When Keladry withdrew Shale reblobbed to repeat her orders and they watched with Carter as men began moving to the outer alure. The darking reflattened to show the roadway from straight on and above.

"Where is … oh, that gallery in the fin." Vanget rubbed his hands, face grim. "A grandstand view we'll regret, I think. You might as well watch, Carter, instead of sneaking glances. No-one with line of sight is going to be looking anywhere else."

Sheepishly Carter came to stand beside them and Jonathan looked at him curiously, sensing his confidence. It wasn't blind or bloodthirsty, nor did he think it had much to do with traitors; the man was scared of the larger situation and what might happen, but possessed of absolute conviction New Hope would not fall to this attack. When Shale showed the dowel it was Carter who explained. Vanget swore.

"Every fifteen feet? Gods. How big are the bombs?"

"Dunno, sir. Wasn't in the squad what made 'em. They was in jars."

He measured with his hands and Vanget swore again.

"One pound, I bet. And packed round with rock chippings, you say?"

"What I 'eard, sir. Didn't see one before it was sealed up, though. Is that a lot, then? I never used no blazebalm."

"One pound's a goodly size. Twenty pounds together with rocks is … more than I've ever seen go off."

"Ah." Carter nodded sagely. "Lady Kel likes to be thorough. No point makin' yourself future work, she says." A grin lit his face. "Wish I'da thought like that when I was plannin' 'ow to rob ol' man Raxley of 'is savin's, but then I wouldn't be 'ere, would I?"

"And that's good? With all these Scanrans about?"

"Oh yus. It's bin the best year of me life 'ere, sir, an' not just the grub. 'Smade me grow up, my da would say if 'e weren't too drunk. That's why I'll be stayin', if I can. An' for all their numbers I'd rather be in 'ere keepin' them out than out there tryin' to get in."

He fell silent as the attack began. Hearing Thayet in his head Jonathan rested a hand on Tobe's shoulder, squeezing when they saw Keladry brace the dowel against stone, hand whitening. As seconds passed and Sir Guisant reached the gate, then Sir Garvey and a dozen men, his nerves were screaming and only Vanget's narrowed eyes kept him from stupidly asking, shouting, why she was delaying. Then he saw keys snap in a split-second ripple as the dowel cracked down.

The blaze of light from Shale had them all stepping back, eyes smarting. Sound crashed across the valley as the darking showed flaring swirls and spheres of orange and red, and beyond them void air littered with debris, burning men and parts of men turning as they fell. But that sight slid to one side as knights and men at the gate came into view and the image trembled when the top of a great bow filled the foreground and arrows shot away to strike Guisant and Garvey, and others. Then the oranges and reds burned away, or fell to the roadway in clumps, and he saw his bitter wish had been granted a dozen times over, and still arrows flew. He went to the opening, seeing the swift rotation of archers at each crenel, stepping forward to fire and back to nock in a fluid, interweaving motion so pure it was a shock when it halted, men crowding around crenels to look down. Shale showed what they were seeing and he made himself look. Port Legann had

been a bloody horror but he'd never seen such swift carnage, by weaponry or magecraft. This war had begun with the gods-cursed killing devices, and Keladry had met them even before she was a knight, beheading their maker less than a year later; now she returned their essence upon what had lain behind them a hundred fold—death by machinery, cold planning, and ruthless execution. The thought pierced him with a blinding understanding of what gods angry enough to intervene might rejoice in as justice; a dozen things, a score, fell into the new perspective and the terrible laughter echoing through it in the gods' voices scalded him.

"Gods."

"Oh yes, they're about." Tobe's voice was an old man's. "Irnai said Shakith was hovering, and others won't be far off, I reckon."

Jonathan sat, feeling his age and intensely wanting Thayet to hold and be held by. Thoughts turned and he gestured the boy across so he could murmur. "Listen a minute. I don't want to pry but if … your Ma has someone here, a friend—the kind she can cry with—go tell them she needs them, now. Tonight. She's … had to do hard things today, even before … killing all those soldiers with the bombs. A bad, necessary thing, like executing Rogal. I'll try to get her to stand down in a while—there'll be a lull." There would have to be after that carnage. "Make sure she looks after herself as well as everyone else?"

The old man looking through Tobe's eyes nodded, and a small hand rested on his arm. "Yes, sire. I'll bring you food first."

"Not yet, please. I don't think I'll be eating for a while."

A smile warmed the boy's face. "Ma would tell you to eat your vegetables. I'll be a bit anyway—folks'll want to know what's happening."

Carter had resumed his post and Vanget, turning from silent contemplation of Shale's images, heard this.

"Point, young Tobe. You should talk to people, sire, during this lull. Kel's circulating for exactly that reason but I doubt she'll get to the civilians here, so you should. I imagine Wellam and Nond would be glad of news as well." He grinned. "St'aara had 'em telling the children stories last I saw, with a dozen fellow greybeards looking on. Quite a sight!"

It still was when Jonathan saw it an hour later, and he was careful to apologise to the children for taking their storytellers away for a moment. Telling Turomot no treason trials would be needed and that Heathercove, Groten, and Runnerspring were all now vacant fiefs while Torhelm and Marti's Hill lacked heirs, he saw terrible satisfaction in the old man's face. Nond was shocked speechless, but Turomot's grave bow and murmured thanks to Mithros were a different kind of laughter, reminding him in another crackling extension of perspective that the Lord Magistrate had been Keladry's second instructor in her Ordeal, driven by his indignation with Joren's behaviour. She'd pulled him to her cause, as she'd pulled Raoul and Wyldon, and every knight of her year bar the one who'd just died, and immortals—basilisks, ogres, spidrens and stormwings, even dragons and darkings. And her rage, created over and over by insult, assault, and prejudice, too often with his complicity, was the tool gods were using to scour away those who paid no heed to their laws. How much of her would be left when they were done? He didn't know where Piers might be, and was selfishly glad to be spared whatever Keladry's father must be feeling at his daughter's day's work.

The civilians in the caves were no less pleased by the news, though first-hand accounts from soldiers coming off-duty in search of food sobered them. So did Lady Kel's decision no attempt should be made to clear the roadway—the Scanrans had made no request and obstacles

were obstacles, but the contrast with her treatment of Freja's and Rogal's bodies was on all lips, with pity for the distress it must cause her and wonder at the stormwings' restraint that turned to crude, relieving jokes about preferring raw meat. Morale was excellent, and Jonathan's presence superfluous in that respect, but he found himself cornered by Fanche Miller and Saefas Ploughman and asked about the outcome of the inspection, if any. It took him a moment to realise the traitors' arrival had aborted the Council session only that morning, and no announcement had been made; he told them what they wanted to know and seeing the news spread like dawnlight among mortals and immortals alike forced himself to a cheerful round of greetings. New Hope's approval was the warmth of a fire and another part of the social as well as military structure Keladry had created here unfolded in his mind.

When he returned to the lookout post Tobe brought food with a wink and Vanget told him he'd ordered Kel to get some sleep while she could, saving him the trouble. Carter had been replaced by a dourer man, also magemarked, who kept sharp watch despite the darkness and said nothing until Jonathan went to stand beside him, wondering what he thought to see scanning so carefully. The sight made him draw breath—gleaming icelight etched alures and reflected on sentries' backplates. For the first time he could imagine what the lower city would look like with these things installed and the revolution they represented sank home—a change as radical as treaties with spidrens and as much a fruit Keladry was trying to glean in the shadow of the gods' harvesting. Beyond New Hope the stonebridge and its road gleamed, but the fields were dotted with fewer campfires than he'd expected and he glanced at the soldier beside him, eyes still flicking in a regular pattern.

"Do you search for something particular?"

He received the briefest glance. "I checks the alures, Yer Majesty, an' wevver there's anythin' on 'em there oughtn'ta be. Lady Kel thinks they might try gettin' a small group in. The men 'ave bin warned but it's belt an' braces wiv Lady Kel, an' I'm the braces."

Jonathan laughed softly. "Good for Lady Kel. I don't like it when my breeches fall down."

"'Oo does, Yer Majesty? No one likes a draft there." There was a ruminative pause. "'Im in the cell, wiv 'is 'and gone and talkin' to Lord Gainel, would 'e 'ave found 'is breeches fell down?"

"You could say that. He felt Lady Kel's draft, certainly." "Ah."

There was no reason to tell this man the story of Runnerspring's treason—he didn't even know his name but found himself talking about what he knew and thought had happened. There was much he couldn't say but the great fracture of Duke Roger's deaths was common currency, and the soldier, eyes never still, showed a shrewd grasp of the pressures that had eroded the political power his father and grandfather had by default granted lords who paid for one's neverending wars of conquest and the other's dearly purchased reputation as a peacemaker. The man also understood a surprising amount about what Keladry had come to represent for those lords, and Jonathan's questions revealed the Corus knowledge of one who heard what Palace servants said and, more recently, something that had to be called research, driven by exposure to the woman herself. Clearly a collective endeavour with pooled results, it produced a sharp picture of a deadly fighter who stood by her word no matter to whom she'd given it, a new noble who knew what so many old nobles had forgotten, a woman infinitely kind and polite unless you crossed the line but implacable if you did, and whose blazing success had enraged any number of rich people a poor one had excellent reasons to dislike. It was a testimonial unlike any Jonathan had ever heard but another aspect of why people followed Keladry as they did unfolded in his mind with a renewed sense of the gods' ironies and what might happen when they became

manifest as justice and retribution—a convict teaching a king being the least of it.

Vanget had laid bedrolls against the wall, and was snoring. Tobe had bedded down in the guardroom, his back to the embers of the fire, and Jonathan quietly built it up and pulled the boy's blanket up before settling in his own bedroll. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept so rough —even on that interminable Progress he'd had soft linens and Thayet beside him, and his thoughts wandered back to days while his father lived and he'd ridden with Alanna among the Bazhir. The memories chased him into dreams where he followed Keladry across a sea of sand and the gods looked on, laughing at his inability to catch up.

He woke before dawn, cold and stiff. Vanget and Tobe were gone, to wash and see to horses the sentry said, eyes still tracing alures; Shale was a blob beside him. Jonathan rekindled the fire and made tea, bringing the sentry a cup and receiving gruff, surprised thanks. The man was tense and didn't turn his head at Jonathan's query.

"It's bin quiet, Yer Majesty, but there was a lotta people movin' among the Scanran fires a while back, an' the darkin' said the mage says there's cloakin' spells bin cast so Cap'n Uinse put us on extra alert."

"Numair?"

"Yus, the black robe."

"Can't he lift the spells?"

"I dunno. If 'e can 'e 'asn't."

"Have the alures been reinforced?"

"Yus. Reserve's on duty an' Lady Kel called." The man gave a sidelong glance. "Cap'n said yer might fight from 'ere, Yer Majesty, wiv magic."

"If there's a target." The Dominion Jewel was heavy beneath his shirt. "I could just about reach the alure."

"Huh."

"You're surprised?"

"I knows yer a mage, Yer Majesty, but … I dunno, I don't think of yer as one, some'ow."

"No robe, no silly hat. And I've done little more than truthspells and firespeaking since the Immortals War. But I can blast if I have to."

"Ah."

They watched in silence. The first hint of false dawn was dimming stars and Jonathan realised the sky had cleared. Would better weather be good or bad news? Bad, he thought, for Scanran archers wouldn't have to be careful with bowstrings while New Hope was better placed to endure rain, with rock to walk on and extensive shelter, and boggy ground, damp bedding, and chafing clothes made fieldlife miserable. Were the gods bothering to influence things or was it just luck of the strange season? He didn't know enough to guess, and Keladry's sense of what the divine would choose to do remained a mystery, though Alanna might have some idea. He wondered where she and Raoul were, and about the sweep of events that had brought them from page days, when Raoul insisted they'd been puppies in a basket, all paws and tails, to this extraordinary fort with half-a-dozen knights and five hundred men rotting at its gates. How far

back did a possible future begin on the timeway?

His musing was interrupted by the sentry's movement and a second later he heard shouts from the gatehouse, a blast of Numair's magic and hoarse, furious bellowing. It was too dark to see anything icelight didn't cover but men on the western alure were nocking arrows and producing slings that whirled and blurred as they fired at something in the hidden dark beyond. He was turning to ask Shale if it knew what was happening when a shout beside him brought his head back round to see a monstrous hand and arm reach over the alure by the gatehouse, crushing a man and scattering others as it gripped and heaved, and the bellowing head of a giant rose above the wall.

Vanget's order to rest had been unwelcome but Kel knew he was right, and felt exhaustion pulling at calves and thighs as she walked the alure with Alanna, grimly congratulating archers and sending off-duty companies to eat, reminding visiting men the main kitchens had moved into the caves. She needed food but her stomach churned at the thought and she dreaded the dreams sleep would bring. Still, an order was an order, and already she could feel the combat rhythm she'd learned with the Own—sleep and meals snatched when you could get them, long periods of waiting when you might fatally let concentration lapse and feared to relax but had to if you were to survive the explosive bursts of action that could approach steadily or leap at you unawares. There was a reduced shift of cooks in the messhall, providing for duty men, and she went there, unable to face crowds and questions in the caves. The cooks made her up a plate, respecting the solitude she sought, and she forced food down, making herself think of poor Einur, hanged by Stenmun, and another army cook she'd known who made the best morning porridge, and anything except Runnerspring's hand and the feel of the dowel in her own. Her behaviour terrified her, and the certain knowledge she'd do it all again, as often as she had to, that she could do anything at all to save her people, however vile, and vomit herself free of conscience afterwards, was a constant nausea. The Cow, The Lump, The Girl had missed it completely; only Mother had come close to her ferocity, and The Torturer, Slaughterwoman, Monster would have been truer. The Merciless. Tea washed claggy bread down.

Her dark reverie was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and Yuki slid onto the bench beside her. "Keladry-chan. How are you?"

"I'm surviving, Yuki. Are Neal and Ryokel alright?"

"They're fine. Baird and the company healers are with us but there's been no-one to treat, thanks to you."

She thought of green fire sealing a stump. "Only Runnerspring."

Yuki's breath was sharp. "Him, yes. Baird says he is sleeping. He will live to stand trial. I was looking for you. So is Dom."

"Dom? What's wrong at the corral?"

She tensed and Yuki laid a hand on her arm again. "Nothing, Keladry-chan. He wants to see you, not the Commander. Tobe sent him."

"Tobe?"

"Yes. He thought you needed company, and he was right. Come now."

She let Yuki lead her out while she tried to process this and protested as chill air roused her. "Yuki, if there's nothing wrong it must wait. I can't—" Yuki interrupted and she blinked. Yuki never interrupted.

"Hush. You need rest, Keladry-chan, and should not be alone. Come." She towed Kel on, releasing her at the headquarters building. "Go. You have the darking. You will be called if anything happens."

Kel could hear someone moving in a guest room, Wyldon or Raoul perhaps, but her side was deserted and her footsteps loud on the stairs. It was odd to see Tobe's room empty and she was wondering again about what Yuki had said when her door opened and Dom was there.

"Yuki found you then. Gods, Kel, you look all in. Have you eaten?" "Yes, in the messhall." She swallowed. "Dom, I … you don't want—"

A pace brought him to her and she tried to step back but he grasped her in a fierce hug to which she couldn't respond and steered her inside. He'd lit the fire but only one lamp and she let him unbuckle her breastplate, welcoming lightness while feeling renewed vulnerability. The gloom made it easier not to look at him, even when he sat beside her and rested hands on her taut shoulders, kneading tight muscles; not looking made it easier to speak, if not to say what she knew she should.

"Is everything alright at the corral?"

"All well, Kel. Some cavalry came to have a look but kept their distance and they've posted a picket force just round the fin. We might have to do something about that if we decide to sally."

"Right." Another mental note joined the long, long list. "And Button's kept you informed about what's happened on this side?"

"Beautifully. Good job with the rockfalls and getting the archers to try from the Eyrie. It showed me the attack, as well."

"Showed you?"

"Yes. I saw their picket disappear round the fin and Button said an attack was about to happen so I went to my office."

"You saw that carnage?"

"I did, Kel, and I've never seen the like. But better them than us, and you said we'd have to bleed them. It was necessary."

"Yes, I know." Her voice nearly broke. "The King should be pleased. He thought treason trials would be messier."

"Gods. There speaks a king. But I can't say I disagree. I never thought to see knights ride against the army, and I'm very glad they're dead and gone."

Enough of her shared that relief that she couldn't argue, even with an image in her mind of raw, disbelieving horror on Guisant's face. "No problems with Disart or Macayhill?"

"None. They were all grim—asked what they should do and did it. Lord Imrah's an excellent officer and the others seem disciplined enough. And the lads quite like having lords with them, oddly. All in it together, I think."

It couldn't be avoided; he should know what he was touching. "I imagine they were grim, Dom. Watching torture will do that."

His hands didn't pause. "Runnerspring, you mean? Uncle Baird told me." Her gorge rose and she swallowed, forcing it down. "He said he didn't think he'd even seen anyone more dangerous than you, or braver."

She twisted, emotions heaving. "Braver? To chop up a helpless man? I told the elemental knights should be more than butchers in mail—torturers with fans or … and I—"

She couldn't bear what she'd done to Cricket's imperial gift and she knew there was something wrong with that thought. But his hands were pulling her to him and his human warmth, his strength, and she clutched him back as tears broke and the awful, impossible guilt and self-loathing spilled out with them. When she quieted his shirt was wet under her cheek and she felt as if she were floating an inch from everything, but his arms held her, his voice a quiet rumble.

"Brave Kel, as brave as anyone can be. And cleanly purposeful, efficient, merciful, whatever you think. Hating yourself is probably necessary, like combat nightmares, but wrong too. And don't think anyone else does—that's silly. If your Cricket knew she'd be glad her present helped, as Yuki was, and Neal and me. Your glaive didn't mind killing Rogal and your fan won't mind this. Nor the gods, I bet. They're admiring you tonight, as I am. Lady Kel, my Kel, so strong, so kind, so beautiful. Shh, yes you are. A bit blotchy at the minute, and sleepy after those tears, I hope. I'm here, and Ebony, so rest. Shh. Shh."

The muzziness in her mind was warm, the dark enticing. She woke an hour later, still in his arms, feeling purged. He had dropped off but woke as she sat, and she gave him a fragile smile and stood to make tea while he built up the fire. The fine Yamani porcelain and clean lines of the side-handled teapot were a blessing in her fingers, and the ritual of the ceremony the beginning of calm. They drank in silence, eyes on one another, and afterwards she let him undress her, too tired and grateful to protest. She didn't think her body could be roused but the brush of fingers made her tingle and butterfly kisses forgave the horror she'd made of herself, tracing firelight on her skin until passivity drowned in need. At first it wasn't so much the pleasure as his desire to give it, affirmation that she still stood among the loving and need revolt herself no more than she revolted him, but as heat banished tiredness her body insisted on her own desire as proof and way of being alive. This was what soldiers sought after combat, after killing others and courting their own deaths, and he recognised it—had anticipated it, she realised, marvelling—and understood she had to lose herself in him, taking his heat to fill her own shocked emptiness.

When she woke again, the fire warm on her back through the blanket they'd pulled over themselves, it was to Ebony's insistent squeak.

"Awake? Uinse say, movement in enemy camp. Not know what. Tell people, be alert. Ask, you come?"

Smoothly she sat up, feeling ease return and the restoration sleep had brought. "Yes, I'll come. What time is it?"

"Not dawn. Moon low."

If the moon hadn't set it was two hours at least until sunrise. Dom had woken too, and reached to cup her breast. "Trouble?"

"Uinse says movement in their camp and he's called an alert." "I'd best get back to the corral."

"Are you hungry? I'm starving." They were dressing as they spoke, and there was a different pleasure in the ways they'd learned to co-operate, his deft assistance with the final tuck of her breastband she'd always found awkward repaid in her ease with his brace. "Let's grab food from the messhall. If something happens it could be hours."

He paused in buckling her breastplate. "People will know." "Good."

She kissed him fiercely, though armour made embracing awkward, and stooped to pick up Ebony. If he could accept her, love her, after what she'd done, she was through denying him in public. The only people who mattered who didn't yet know were Neal and her father, and after what her father had seen her do pretending to virtue seemed pointless. Nor did she care about politics, and a cold part of her mind pointed out that most of those to whom scandal would seem opportunity were dead, and no remaining lord who might disapprove was going to utter a word. She wasn't sure Dom understood but he didn't object and while the mood was on her she swept aside another secrecy and told Ebony it need hide no longer. When it squeaked surprise she shook her head.

"I'm done with hiding, Ebony. There were reasons to be careful but now the King knows and Maggur's men are at the gates it's pointless."

"What say? People ask."

"You're a friend who's come to help us. And whatever else you want."

"Friend?"

"Yes, a good one. Now we must go."

The messhall kitchen was busy, Uinse having ordered tea and food brought to men on the alures, and they took mugs and rolls and left, parting with a handclasp and her murmured, hot-hearted thanks. He limped off without looking back, and she trotted to the gatehouse. Uinse was by the parapet with Numair and Harailt, tension in his body.

"Lady Kel, there was noise and movement an hour back in their camp, then it cut off and I called Master Numair. He said it was a cloaking spell so I called the alert."

"Quite right. Numair?"

"It's a strong spell, Kel—a red robe at least. And it's tied to the earth somehow, holding itself down. I can't break it at this range, and it's blocking the griffin bands."

"It'll have to come closer, and then it'll be easier to break, yes?"

"Probably. There's odd magic in it—old blood magic, I think. It won't be easy."

"Alright. Will you sense it coming closer?"

"Yes."

"Sing out when it does. Uinse, tell section sergeants on the outer alures to get keys to the

rocknets. Use them at their discretion—if something's sneaking up it's still got to get over the walls. Griffin-fletched arrows for master archers. All military personnel on duty, but don't wake everyone else yet—wearing ourselves out does no good. Except, maybe"—she thought hard —"yes, ask the basilisks if a couple will come to the inner alures. If there's something magical in the attack rock spells might hold it."

"Lady Kel."

She turned to the mages. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Nothing useful." Numair's eyes were half-lidded in concentration. "I could explain blood magic, but it makes no odds. Gissa always liked blood spells. She could be adapting something learned from a shaman. They like blood spells too."

"Mmm. But it's just a cloaking spell?"

"As far as I can tell."

"Harailt, can you detect it?"

"Oh yes."

"Numair, will you need Harailt to break the spell?"

"Not if it comes close enough."

"Then go to the tower, please, Harailt, and watch the eastern side. Maggur likes two-pronged attacks—tickle and stab."

He nodded and went, and an uneasy silence came to the roof. Even usual night sounds were absent, Kel realised, nocturnal animals hiding from magic they'd sense. She risked a trip to the gatehouse privy, and returning through the guardroom saw a bundle of bloody arrows and an assortment of swords and spears with scorched shafts. Uinse was back on the roof and she summoned him with a crooked finger.

"You recovered arrows?"

He looked sheepish. "It was quiet, Lady Kel, and I've lads who are quick with hands and knife. They didn't go far but got what they could—fifty-odd arrows and what weapons they could find. They was volunteers, my Lady, and the wicket bolted behind them."

She wasn't sure it was a risk she'd have taken but couldn't object to the gains. "That can't have been pleasant. Thank them for me."

"It's a mess out there, Lady Kel, but the ones outside the gate were alright. I did wonder about armour but movement started."

She shook her head. "Breast and backplates, yes, but otherwise leave it, Uinse. Move them away from the gate if you get the chance, though—over the glacis is fine. We can do without rotting bodies."

He nodded and they returned to the parapet. The pre-dawn air was chilly and Kel snagged another roll and fresh tea from the older children distributing them. Still concentrating, Numair flicked her a glance.

"You look better, Kel. Good to see."

"Yes, I had help. Yesterday was … difficult." "There's an understatement. Were the gods present?"

"Not that I know and Irnai's said nothing. I think they've done all they're going to do and are just watching now."

"Spectators at a joust? I can imagine that."

"More like parents in the Chapel of the Ordeal, maybe. Though the Black God must be busy enough."

"True." He looked at her carefully. "You sound sorry for him." "I am, Numair. I can't begin to imagine the burden he bears."

"If anyone else said that, Kel, I'd say 'of course you can't'. That's why he's the god. But I suspect you say it because you can begin to imagine, so I'll just say thank you, for myself, and Daine and Sarralyn." She nodded, grateful for his kindness, and he smiled. "Perhaps he gets his daughter and her pets to help when there's a rush."

She couldn't help her laugh and looked at him accusingly. Slaughter must surely have been present, and if one hyena, why not more? And for all the blood on her hands the satisfied part of her mind had no problem at all with Guisant and Garvey meeting them on their way to the Black God's judges, nor with making the Hag bestir herself.

"That's a thought. Though what Cloestra told me about Ozorne's fall made me think better of hyenas. And Daine was a fine one."

"Wasn't she ju—hang on. It's moving in, fast."

"Uinse, full alert. Tell me when it hits the moat, Numair." She could hear arrows being nocked and raised her voice. "Slings too, people."

"It's splitting up, Kel—eight, a dozen prongs. One's at the moat below us, over it, climbing. Others at the base of the roadway."

Even with her griffin band on Kel could see nothing. "Break the spell." She felt thudding vibration in the stone beneath her and raised her voice. "They're coming—fire as you can."

Sparkling black fire streaked down, splitting into crackling streamers. One struck something on the glacis below the turn of the roadway in a coruscating welter of stars and streaks, others further along the glacis, and Numair shouted a word that made the air scream around her as the cloaking spell broke. Blackness cracked to reveal a dozen giants climbing the glacis, driving thick spikes to haul themselves up and stand on, roaring now they were exposed. Arrows were flying and she fired herself, godbow warm in hand, and heard a giant bellow, clutching the shaft in its eye, but no arrow could penetrate a giant's skull and hitting shoulders and arms didn't even slow them. Stones were more effective, producing roars of pain, but weren't going to stop these creatures.

A ball of magic shot from Numair to strike a giant's head as it rose above the roadway, clinging rather than exploding; that giant fell, arms windmilling, and something broke with an ugly crack as it hit the abatis. But the nearest one was still climbing, and she saw a huge foot gain the turn of the roadway. The gatehouse was too high even for a giant but the outer palisade wasn't, and with two strides it planted a foot against the base of the wall, one great hand reaching for the merlon nearest the gatehouse. Running for the parapet on that side she heard a ghastly scream and

saw fingers smear a soldier against stone. His head was rolling towards her and recognising the section sergeant she dived for the case of keys, flipping it open and snapping the thin sliver labelled West–Merlon 1 in its slot. Scooping up West–Merlon 2 to 7 she stood again, to be deafened by an appalling howl as two hundredweight of rocks smashed into the giant's feet, knocking it back to the roadway, skinned knees resting on the glacis and face flung skyward as it keened. Its throat was exposed and she slapped the mageblasts flat on the crenel, the godbow leaping to her hand from where she'd dropped it in her haste, and her arrow punched into the pulsing skin alongside another from the alure, then her second and third and more from elsewhere and the howl was cut off as it slumped, tumbling beyond the roadway out of sight.

Numair and Harailt had killed at least one more each, the glacis trembling as falling bodies struck it, and more howls of agony, audible even through the ringing in her ears, told her others were using the rocknets. She used West – Merlon 6 and 7, then the bow again, sending an arrow directly into a cavernous mouth as it turned towards her and seeing a rock that must be from Ventriaju smash into its temple at the same moment; it fell, rolling away to bounce from the roadway into the darkness beyond. But at least two giants had firm footings on the edge of the shelf, towering over the palisade and sweeping men from alures with hands as big as horses' hocks, knocking them through and over the railings into the killing field between the walls. She was aiming at the nearest for the second time when she saw Raoul and Alanna running towards it. The Lioness's sword flashed across the back of the giant's hand, slicing tendons, and it howled, lifting the hand away as Raoul came past to bring his warhammer down on the point of its chin. Its head jerked forward and his return blow, two-handed, slammed into the base of its nose, slapping the head back, silver blood trailing in air and wounded hand flailing as it fell, head striking glacis with a vile crunch.

Beyond them, more than half-way to the north tower, the other giant had cleared the alure as far as it could reach, and resting both hands on the parapet drew itself up, swinging its leg high to jam it into a crenel and stand. It towered into the sky, head well above the men on the inner alure, and Kel realised it would be able to leap clean over the killing field. Numair was summoning a fireball but taking too long, power drained by breaking the spell, and as arrows flew from the godbow to strike its side, no more than pins to a bear, she didn't think he'd be able to stop it in time. It roared triumph, kicking ponderously to send men flying, and was reaching for the inner alure when the shrieking, crashing rumble of the rock spell thrashed the air. Var'istaan had gained the inner alure and was stalking along it, mouth wide, and the avalanche of sound went on and on, the notes within it rising beyond hearing, and the giant was still. Open-mouthed, Kel saw greyness spread over its face and chest, accelerating down arms and torso with a crackling sound like treetrunks splitting in counterpoint to the noise of the spell. The last visible flesh at the ankle rising above the crenel vanished and the rumbling died, leaving the night abruptly silent.

Blinking and shaking her head Kel swallowed to pop her ears, and saw the two giants still climbing the glacis above the base of the roadway had stopped, mouths open as they stared at the statue towering twenty-five feet above the outer alure, and she turned to Numair, seeing him arrested too, fireball dwindling in his hand.

"Topple it outwards, Numair—now!"

Shaking himself he nodded and swung his arm, the fireball curving away to pass over the inner alure and accelerate back to crack into the statue's head, splitting the top away. The chunk of what had a moment ago been skull and hair screamed into the darkness and hearing distant shouts she hoped it had landed on watching Scanrans, but her gaze was locked on the statue. Infinitely slowly it was moving, tipping back, the foot jammed in the crenel acting as a pivot, and with outstretched arms utterly, weirdly still the head swung through a half-circle to slam into the glacis above the roadway and shatter explosively. Fragments whined away, producing a howl from one of the other giants as the stone foot at last came free of the crenel and the headless torso slid onto

the roadway, pivoting over the jagged stump of neck and jaw to crash onto the glacis below and break into a hundred pieces that tumbled down to splash into the moat or bounce into the field beyond. The last giants howled and slid to the roadway, turning to lumber down and crash across the moatbridge, and the attack was over.

Shaking with relief Kel drew a shuddering breath and rested a hand on Numair's shoulder. "Thank you."

Her voice was hoarse and when she caught Var'istaan's eye she bowed, seeing soldiers on the alure echo her movement. Uinse came to her side, offering a flask and she nodded thanks, swilling her mouth and drinking thirstily before passing it to Numair.

"Alright, people." Her voice still sounded rusty but it was carrying. "That was way too close but we've beaten them back. Good work, everyone. Sergeants, check sections and get injured to the infirmary." She swallowed. "Dead to the gatehouse. Sentries, eyes out—it's just the time for them to get sneaky. Captains, gatehouse in half-an-hour and we'll take stock." She saw Raoul wave lazily. "My lord?"

"Just to say you're all giantkillers now, Lady Kel. It's a great relief to share the title."

Laughter and hoarse cheers sounded along the alure, and she smiled at her knight master who'd taught her so much, and so often had the right thing to say. "Thank you, my lord. Delighted to do you a favour. We've a way to go before we can bang them on the nose with warhammers." Cheers swelled but a raised arm cut them off. "Get to it, everyone—wounded can't wait."

Dawn revealed a grim tally. Seventeen men had died, six on spikes between the walls. Pulling them off was a vile job, and men who'd taken a full blow from a giant's hand were pulverised, bone rippling under skin and blood leaking sluggishly as they were rolled onto stretchers. Another thirty were injured, five with broken longbones or skulls, the rest with cracked ribs and severe scrapes where they'd been sent skidding. Harailt was unharmed but so drained he was comatose, and was carried away, Ettenor and Numair trailing anxiously. More than half the casualties were Uinse's men, duty watch when the alarm sounded, and the rest from the company Wyldon had brought. Both were with Kel as she saw coffins stacked between gatehouse and fin, and accompanied her to the infirmary. It was hard for Uinse who'd never lost so many before, and it didn't occur to Kel she'd never done so herself, even at Rathhausak; she seemed to have been killing and burying for ever. Wyldon had been here too many times, and while she knew it never got easier Kel was glad of his strength and brisk manner.

In a way the infirmary was cheering. No injured were in danger and some had already been released. Harailt was astonishingly better, as was Numair, who explained he had a bag of opals in which he'd been storing power and as well as refuelling himself had managed to refuel Harailt—a possibility discovered rigging the opal for Kel. The room was brighter for Yuki's presence with other women, bringing food and imposing civility. Kel gratefully drank tea before heading back to the gatehouse.

The scene was even worse than yesterday. Burned corpses had been smeared by giants' feet, and hulking bodies lay scattered. One was across the roadway half-way up, another near the base; the rest had fallen to catch on the abatis—or not. Two floated in the moat, beginning to bloat. Fragments of the stone giant were caught in the abatis and decorated the field beyond. Besides the smell that would soon rise the giants in the moat were a risk, for men might cross on their bodies. The thought was driven from her mind as she saw Scanran shieldmen and archers advancing, and a moment later a volley rose. Her shout had men dropping for cover, but at least one wasn't fast enough, taking the arrow in his shoulder. More volleys followed, forcing sentries to drop into the angles of alure and parapet. One volley ranged further, arrows clattering onto the

messhall, and even people on the main level had to seek cover. Wyldon joined her with a grim face.

"They're getting sensible. The traitors were a probe and the giants a surprise that might have worked. But it didn't, so now it's a proper siege, wearing us down. Volleys on and off all day, all round." His point was proven as shouts from the eastern alure announced another. "All night too—the range will be familiar and they'll sneak in to try pot shots. And range in—they don't know people have withdrawn to the caves."

"I'll warn Uinse. And the children running food and drink will be at risk, and the animals unless …"

Wyldon raised an eyebrow. "Unless what, Keladry?"

"I was thinking about canvas."

"Canvas?"

"Run some over sticks from the messhall to the steps …"

"Canvas won't stop arrows."

"Petrified canvas will. Let's go talk to Var'istaan."

"Petrified canvas?" He shook his head. "It's an education to fight with you, Keladry. And an honour."

It was another forgiveness of what she'd done to Runnerspring and the knights and men who'd followed him. "Thank you. It doesn't feel as if it should be. Bombs and butchery aren't what the code recommends."

"Protecting the innocent is, and the code says 'in every way possible, while breath remains'." He brushed away a hair clinging to her cheek. "I haven't seen you break it yet, Keladry, in word or deed. Now, where will we find Var'istaan? I'd be glad to thank him anyway —I thought that last giant was going to jump right over the inner wall. Remarkable."

Too full of emotion to speak she slipped her arm through his and they went to seek Var'istaan and the others.


	29. Chapter 27

Endurance

Chapter Twenty-Seven — Endurance

9 – 12 February

By noon stone awnings were in place, and badly needed, for arrows kept coming, some on flatter, some on higher trajectories, and despite the care everyone was taking injuries began to mount. More people were in the infirmary and there were two deaths—a Northwatch soldier who peered at the wrong moment, and a Mastiff man who didn't duck fast enough. It was attritional warfare— Maggur had arrows to spare and the defenders could worse afford one casualty than he could ten. Nor could much be done, but Kel authorised master archers to use griffin -fletched arrows if they had a shot. It was cat-and-mouse, and Kel doubted more than one or two arrows found a mark, but they kept Scanrans honest. Stormwings began to help, dropping ordure that annoyed and rocks that injured; both made shieldmen twist aside, exposing archers to the alure. That delayed further volleys as dead and injured were carried away, but they were immediately replaced and firing continued.

Fire arrows were tried, on trajectories that took them well out into the main level to clatter off rooves or stick in the green. They damaged only grass but the oily smoke was irritating and Kel detailed men as bucketeers, enjoying the puzzlement on Scanran faces as a tactic that should have worked achieved nothing. More ominous was the construction that began a good four hundred yards out from the moat. The rockfalls had been cleared and the remaining giants pulled the lumber wagons through to unload great baulks of timber and what looked like sections of a wheel. Even for giants they were clearly heavy, and violent grunts echoed as they heaved and carried. When assembly started flaring magic could also be seen, and after peering through the spyglass Numair straightened, scowling, to confirm Gissa of Rachne and Tolon Gardiner were present. What they were doing beyond controlling the giants he couldn't tell, except that it must be augmenting bindings carpenters and smiths were providing; no-one could guess what was being built. When the wheel began to be assembled, and a frame to house it, Kel gave up speculating and went to find Tobe. When he saw her emerge from the top of the spiral he ran to her, arms outstretched.

"Alright, Tobe?" He nodded, just needing to hold and be held. "Is Irnai alright? I didn't see her as I came through the cave."

"She's good. She helped me bring lunch up here and stayed for a bit, then went to the loom room. She said His Grace has good stories."

"Duke Turomot, you mean?"

"Yes. Not Granda."

She hugged him again, knowing she'd have to find her father soon, and her eyes met the King's over his shoulder. "And has His Majesty been behaving himself?" Jonathan grinned as Tobe nodded, and she stood. "Go find out where Granda is for me?"

He slipped past to the passage and she nodded to Carter before greeting her commander and king. Given the presence of Shale she wasn't sure what to report but Vanget forestalled her.

"Congratulations, Kel—you're doing a superb job, and you've hit them hard. Taking the

commissariat out was excellent and you've slapped two attacks back, inflicting heavy casualties. Can't ask for more."

"Those giants came very close."

"Close doesn't count—they didn't get in, and the Scanrans have settled themselves to weakening you and whatever that thing they're building is. And time's slipping away—Ferghal's men'll be raising the siege at Northwatch in three days, if this weather holds, and here in a week."

It was less than Kel had been expecting and despite her roiling fear of what the infirmary and coffin pile would look like in a week's time she nodded. The King cleared his throat.

"My congratulations also, Lady Keladry. The way your archers and slingmen rotate is superb. And I didn't know basilisks had agreed to fight—nor stormwings."

"Thank you, sire. Basilisks are willing—for all they're diplomats they're predators. Ogres aren't, though they'll defend themselves. The stormwings … I'm not sure, but I think they've a grudge against Maggur's mages. Numair says both were at Dunlath, and the spells controlling the giants work on other immortals so perhaps it's payback time."

"Whatever the reasons I'm grateful, and I'd like to say so." He smiled slightly. "If we promise to get back at any alarm would you give us the freedom of the caves? Shale will keep in touch, and I gather darkings your officers have are riding openly, so I was thinking civilians would like to see what's happening too. I know Turomot and Nond would."

Slowly she nodded. "Alright, but do get back here at any alarm so you can't be cut off from the hoist. At a run—the gods like sweat, not assumptions. And be careful what you show, Shale—I don't want anyone seeing people they care for killed if we can help it."

The darking agreed, and Kel found herself leading the King down the spiral on an impromptu round. For him, she saw, the beating emotions of New Hopers were a strain, Councillors a relief, but for her it was the other way round—her people's pride in themselves and fierce approval were balm, Councillors' marked deference and shadowed eyes the wrong kind of reminder. It also meant she met her father for the first time since the Council session on her knees, with Turomot, Nond, and several hundred children gathered round, and could do no more than hold his hand a moment; his kiss on her forehead was reassurance she needed, and he joined her as they went on to loom room, Immortals' Row, and—reluctantly—the cell where Runnerspring slept. His stump was bandaged, face relaxed in the grip of his own dreamrose, and the knowledge that she'd taken his hand and son in the same day a distant fact. When she withdrew, seeing the door relocked and thanking Jacut who'd come to open it, her mind was clearer, and going through the tunnel she dropped behind with her father and told him she and Dom were lovers. She didn't know what she'd expected except to end a nagging sense of dishonesty, but he took her breath away as he gripped her hand warmly.

"Masbolle? Good man. I'm delighted for you, my dear. Your mother implied you weren't so alone any more and I trusted she was right. You've been able to share with him all that's happened to you?" Speechless, she nodded. "Good, good. It must be a great relief. I don't know what I'd have done without your mother and you've already endured so much more than we ever did. A shoulder you can trust to cry on is priceless, and if Masbolle's given you that I owe him a great debt."

He peered up at her tears and offered a handkerchief. Benign irony was a welcome change and her nervous solemnity and wonderment at his grace dissolved in a hiccoughing laugh. Honesty was a palpable boon, and the thought flashed that however sickening the things she'd done in the last two days she'd done them before the highest witnesses there could be, open to the

gods, and that was a cleanliness her victims could not claim. Dabbing her eyes she returned his handkerchief and they hurried to catch up. Touring the corral beside King, general, and father felt very odd but she managed to let Dom know her father knew, and create a space for them. Disart and Macayhill headed to the King when they saw him but Imrah remained on the alure, offering a lazy salute, and she climbed the ramp to speak to him.

"It's been quiet this side, Kel—just that picket. You could shift men to the main alures, I think, especially with darkings to shout if there's need." He gave her a long look. "I was very surprised but pleased to meet Button on Masbolle's shoulder this morning. Had 'em long?"

"Midwinter—and I don't have them now, Imrah. They're volunteer residents of the Dragonlands."

He grinned. "Especially in the King's hearing, eh? Don't fret—I can hear Daine laying into him yet. But a word to the wise—he'll be wondering hard how many might be elsewhere. Not unreasonably."

"There are none in Tortall save the nine here."

"But some elsewhere?"

"Not my business, Imrah. They help their friends."

"They help Daine's friends, you mean. Mmm. I think I can do that maths." He shook his head admiringly. "Echoing Alanna was remarkable, Kel, but echoing Daine too, that's food for thought—a banquet of it. And neither of 'em could have done what you did when you had to." His face sobered. "Are you alright with that now?"

"I'm getting there, Imrah. And I'll think about shifting men. I might have to if casualties get bad, but I'd rather know what that thing they're building is first. Have you seen it?"

"Only by darking."

"Take a look, please. Oh, and think about how to silence that picket if we need to sally. If we get them used to the drawbridge going down, to let horses graze close in, maybe, withdrawing if anything heavier comes round, we could sneak a squad out to lay up by the fin."

"That might work." He considered her. "D'you really think we'll be in a position to

sally?"

"Yes, actually. Maybe only when Lord Ferghal gets here. But maybe before. It depends on the target. Oh, excuse me a moment."

Peachblossom was at the base of the nearest ramp, Nari on his mane and Jump trotting up towards her. She greeted the dog and went to Peachblossom, throwing arms round his neck and caressing Nari blindly with one finger as she breathed in the big gelding's smell and felt his solid, warm bulk while she whispered into his coat.

"I miss you so much, boy. I'm sorry I haven't been around—so much is happening. Tobe's told me how you keep visiting horses in line, and new sentries. Teach inexperienced horses about charging, if you can, eh?"

His presence was a reminder of who she had been when she was only herself, staring at the shining peak of knighthood, and a testimony to survival against odds. She might have stood there all day if Dom hadn't recalled her to business. Disart was fretting about not 'doing his bit', and she melded politics with sense by setting him to organise cleaning and checking weaponry

Uinse's lads had recovered and arrows the Scanrans were so handily supplying. Many broke when they hit stone but not all, and if they weren't as good as those centaurs made they'd do well enough at shorter ranges.

More interesting were the veterans, some of whom Dom was using as sergeant-majors to co-ordinate his many squad sergeants, with the rest leavening his inexperienced men. The patience and calm they brought to the younger soldiers was palpable, and she could see Vanget absorbing it, but the bonds they'd forged with convicts struck her most. On the surface one might think them very different—veteran regulars who'd always lived under discipline, for the most part with exemplary records, and despite injury come from retirement to fight, and men who'd fallen so far from the straight they'd only volunteered to get out of the mines; but however distinct their lives they'd started from similar places, and any one of them might have gone the other way. There was also a Corus commonality, the capital district over-represented in the mines and among veterans who'd been close enough to hear in time word spread by the quartermasters, that made for mutually familiar places and people. It also led to a question from a veteran with the accents of Mutt Piddle Lane about New Hope's icelight deal with the Wardsmen, and her frank answer about the terms she'd required, with a wry comment about the form local negotiations might be taking, started a lively discussion to which she left them. The game of matching shaped icelight to location promised useful distraction if the corral stayed quiet, as she thought it would, and the puzzlement on Disart's and Macayhill's faces as they tried to comprehend what had just happened pleased her so much she winked at Imrah as she headed for the tunnel, hearing his guffaw as she laid a hand briefly on Dom's arm before reluctantly walking on.

The main level was less cheerful, arrows regularly clattering on alures and roofs all evening and through the night. The morning proved Wyldon right about ranging too, showing the ground between messhall and green littered with arrows and the nearer half of the green resembling a pincushion. Casualties continued to mount, more slowly as people became familiar with the best shelter, but hits tended to be serious and by noon five coffins had joined the stack that now spread the width of the shelf. Blue Harbour, lucky not to be among them, was in the infirmary with Baird and Neal trying to save a hand cut in half by a broadhead descending at a steep angle; so was Forist, who'd sheltered another man with a magical shield that hadn't covered his own legs.

The volleys were coming in on all sides, and though the gatehouse roof could be used for observation with shieldmen in place Kel thought it better to watch from the Eyrie. A large part of the problem, she realised, was that besides the knot of men and giants labouring where the huge wheel was proving recalcitrant, Maggur's troops didn't have much else to do. Cutting their food supply meant they'd run out sooner but they had enough now, and except for wood-gathering parties—which were, she noted with satisfaction, large, heavily escorted, and not very productive, hence the few campfires they were maintaining—they were simply waiting. Archery was a relief from boredom and possible even for conscripts—who after seeing the traitors' assault were not going to try any direct attack, whatever the hard-faced officer threatened, until the walls had been seriously battered or defenders thinned to real inadequacy. So it was Kel's job to keep them busy, a distraction to compound delay, and she didn't have many options.

One interesting thing was the final layout of the Scanran camp. The area occupied by conscript troops had ended up closest to New Hope, on the northern side. Patchwork tents formed a block running down valley, but no part of the perimeter, three loyalist companies having put themselves outermost in a thin cordon—as, Kel suspected, a barrier to nighttime desertion. Those conscripts weren't held by hostages, only force and imposed routine, and could not be trusted on detached duty. That loyalists had to do themselves or ride herd on coerced troops, and such forays were the only place they were suffering real casualties. Quenuresh had let Kel know half-a-dozen men of the squads who'd gone after the centaur archers had failed to return, every wood-gathering party had lost men, and a half-company sent to investigate access to the cliffs had run into

Aldoven's webs, where younger centaurs irritated by Scanran interruption happened to be passing time, with severe results—barely two squads had made it back, and no officers. That was welcome, but Kel thought something more spectacular might be done and settled to a long, darking-mediated conversation with her immortal allies.

By mid-afternoon she was able to begin warning people. Her captains had priority, and while they spread word among soldiers, and Fanche among civilians, Kel summoned King and Council to a meeting, held for safety in the caves, and in her blandest voice briefed them. Alanna, Raoul, and Imrah wound up laughing so hard they slapped their knees—it was obviously a commoner practice than Kel had thought—and if Vanget was too taken aback to be amused, and Wyldon not a man for such a display, both were intrigued; as were Numair and Harailt, for different reasons. Her father listened intently, beaming when she was done, and others were pleased something was happening, however they might struggle to understand what.

With darking observatories in caves and corral the show began as dusk thickened, stormwings rising from roosts all along the valley to mill about as low as they deemed safe. They let loose their massed ability to induce fear, and even on the alures washes of panic could be felt; on the ground the effects were severe, bringing arrowfire to a halt with even loyalist troops blanching and casting themselves down as it swept over them. A moment later three griffins joined the stormwings, repeated cries echoing from cliffs and crags. Sparrows and other birds that wouldn't normally fly so late swooped and spiralled, making all the noise they could, and dogs howled from alures. It all made what Daine would call a fair racket and set up the Scanrans for the appearance over Spidren Wood of a great, glowing ball that cleared to reveal a large, dark red dragon. The stormwings shrieked, flapping furiously to perch on the fin, while the griffins headed for the dragon with more cries, circling to fall in alongside as an escort when it began to move.

A long forked tongue flickered between fangs and enormous silver claws gleamed as slow wingbeats brought it to hover over Haven, and then further, peering at the Scanrans. The huge head swung menacingly, and even on the gatehouse roof Kel and her shieldmen could smell sulphur and an indescribable reek of hot iron and flint. It hung there for several minutes, griffins circling above; then they broke away, climbing steeply as streamers of fire flowed from the dragon's forepaws to hang in the air, shaping themselves into Scanran runes, Ctheorth and Yr, which together meant 'fire-bow' and happened to occur repeatedly in a popular saga in which a dragon took fatal exception to a clanchief who marched against it. They turned in air, visible to all, before flaring and vanishing with the dragon, with what felt for all the world like a gust of wind, though no-one's hair stirred. Beside Kel, Numair and Harailt, who'd demanded to see first-hand, breathed admiration.

"That's the best illusion I've ever seen, Kel, by a long way. You weren't joking about Quenuresh. But Gissa and Tolon will be able to tell."

"The giants might too—I've no idea what if any magic they've got—but they can all explain it was illusion till they're blue. It won't make a jot of difference to anyone save loyalists and not all of them. And they're welcome to try when everything that flies reacted, and dogs."

"The smell was a good touch." Harailt sounded like the university dean he was. "The runes, too. Numair, it was like that description of dragons—imaginary dragons—in the Hamrkengingsaga."

"Eald uhtsceatha, nihtes fleogeth fyre befangen. That's why the griffins agreed—they were dubious about taking part in a trick, but using what Quenuresh said they called 'mortal song-lies' made it alright."

Harailt blinked. "Forgive me, Keladry, I didn't know you were a scholar of Scanran sagas. Nor that griffins were"

"Oh, I'm not, Harailt. But Kitten spent considerable time correcting Stanar after he'd told that one, and Junior reported to his ma and da, who approved. Truth and accuracy over song-lies, and visiting song-lies on those foolish enough to believe them is acceptable punishment for assailing a place Lord Diamondflame blessed."

"Oh. My. I see. I think."

Numair sharpened. "Blessed New Hope, Kel?"

"Um." She held a brief internal debate before reaching up to stroke Ebony in the sign they'd agreed meaning she was about to say something she didn't want communicated to anyone not present, and waited a few seconds for it to squeak acknowledgement. "I wouldn't tell the King just yet, but if I live through this butcher's shop and we all come out on the sunny side of the timeway Diamondflame may make good his threat to send young dragons to the mortal realms for, um, seasoning. They'll come here, to meet basilisks, spidrens, ogres, centaurs—and mortals. You could think of it as a Guild College, Harailt—fostering goodwill and trade between species. It'll put New Hope on the map in a different way."

"I should say it will, Keladry. My word, indeed. But you said 'may'?"

"We have to survive, Harailt, and the timeway has to turn. But Diamondflame doesn't say things he doesn't mean, in my experience."

"Nor mine." Numair's eyes were dark. "That's still not a blessing, Kel."

"No, there's something else—a gift Diamondflame made the timeway in this place—but I'm not going to talk about it. Extend your magic to Chargy and his friends, if you like—carefully —but don't talk about it. If it comes to that everyone will know, and if it doesn't I'd as soon no-one learned. File under 'darkings', yes?"

"Oh, yes. Gods. Thank you, Kel. I'll explain later, Harailt. We're missing more fun.

Look."

The Scanran camp was a swarm of disturbance, with voices raised in angry shouts. Before long fights broke out, and though loyalist fists seemed to prevail the sullen note in the continuing buzz and the restlessness of all Scanran troops as night settled in without any resumption of arrowfire was a satisfaction for everyone. After eating Kel slept dreamlessly for a solid eight hours while Act II played out, and was on the north tower roof with Numair two hours before dawn when Ebony's squeaked report from Quenuresh confirmed everything was set for Act III. Kel was standing at the angle of New Hope's walls, squads of shieldmen on each side, under Jacut, and Numair and Harailt could add magical shields but had other tasks. Kel sent up a prayer.

"Whenever you're ready, Harailt."

"Eyes shut and hands on ears, everyone."

They obeyed but even so Kel saw the red flare and heard the siren shriek as a ball of magic soared above the valley and expanded into a globe of light starkly illuminating the Scanran camp. As noise faded Numair laid a cool, thin hand on the back of her neck and she felt the pulse of magic surround her mouth. When she spoke her voice crashed out like Lord Sakuyo's thundering laugh, the harsh gutturals and buzzed sibilants of Scanran echoing from crags.

"Men of Scanra, heed me well. Some of you are here because you are loyal to Maggur Reidarsson. More of you are here because your clanchiefs ordered you, with an axe at the throats of their wives and children, or someone held an axe to your own throats. But you are all here, and

you have all seen the fiery runes. Do you think the dragons will care who is loyal and who unwilling?" Kel sent up another prayer, of apology and necessity, and felt Lord Sakuyo's calmness rise in her chest. "Make no mistake, Maggur Reidarsson began this war with vilest necromancy, the murder of Scanra's children to make killing devices. Doing so earned the gods' loathing and they have blessed New Hope in word and deed." That was very carefully worded and she heard Sakuyo's laughter as her hand rose to her chest. "I, Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small, commanding here, who slew Blayce the Gallan and Stenmun Kinslayer, and burned Fief Rathhausak, and have died and seen the Black God's face and been returned, do swear by all gods that I speak truth, and in sign of it make the gods' circle."

She did, and chimes rang across the valley through the echoes of her voice, unbearably loud and sweet, resonating in her skull.

"If you are wise, men of Scanra, go now, not looking back. The loyalist troops who penned you in are dead and your way north clear. If you are pursued by those determined you should die with Maggur Reidarsson, take to the woods—if you are unarmed and offer no violence spidrens and centaurs will let you pass and feed you for your journey. Heed me—your chance to live will not come again. Take it while you can, or the stormwings will play with you as well as Maggur Reidarsson over the Greenwoods when this war ends."

She hadn't intended that last sentence but it pulsed into mind and mouth, and as she spoke it a hawk screamed overhead. She could see the bearded officer furiously hustling archers forward but he was too late—Harailt's light was fading and she was done, reaching back to tap Numair's thigh. His magic withdrew and her voice sounded to her as if she was whispering.

"We should get down in case they lob that volley in for spite."

In the stairwell she dismissed Jacut and her shieldmen with thanks, and went to the tower captain's office with the mages, light-headed and weary. Mikal had duty, and Terres and Ennor were with him. The room was crowded and her head threatened to spin; she sat abruptly in the only free chair and Numair swiftly rested a hand on her head.

"Get Baird, someone. She's drained and needs a boost."

Someone clattered downstairs. Mikal sounded alarmed. "Drained? From the amplifying magic? You said—"

"It's not that. Divine power, I think. Didn't you hear the hawk when she said that last thing? If that wasn't Shakith I'll eat my robe."

"Mmm." Kel wasn't feeling bad, just as if eight hours more sleep would be a splendid idea. "Wasn't Shakith's power, Numair. Don't think so, anyway."

"Not blind god. Laughing god." Ebony's squeak was definite.

"Laughing god?"

"Lord Sakuyo. He liked the joke, you see. I hoped he would, and he didn't mind the oath being so carefully worded, so he did his extra-loud chimes trick. Really pure tone, too, like Yamani porcelain." She thought he'd like that. "The hawk was Shakith. Hadn't you realised she's siding with the tricksters? Otherwise why warn George off praying here?"

Numair sat, heavily. "You think … Shakith and the tricksters and the Goddess …. Gods!"

Kel nodded sagely. "Funfunfun."

She didn't get eight hours, but after Baird had trickled green fire into her, leaving her simply sleepy, she made it to her rooms for three and woke clear-headed and ravenous. Arrowfire hadn't resumed, guards looked pleased to stand straight, and after snatching breakfast she made her way to the gatehouse roof. Alanna, Raoul, Wyldon, and Imrah were there with Uinse and Brodhelm and most of the gatehouse watch; hearing her steps Alanna turned, face split by a grin.

"Kel, you wonder—come see what you've wrought."

The Scanran camp looked very different and it took Kel a while to work out what she was seeing. Most obviously, the conscript forces were gone, and a trampled swathe through what had been the northern perimeter and beyond showed where. Her first thought was vast relief that she wouldn't have to use the remaining bombs or worse on men forced into the killing field, with a satisfaction that if loyalists wanted to attack they'd have to do it themselves. Her second was appalled realisation that the spidrens must have most of two thousand fleeing Scanrans on their hands and her mind churned.

"Has anyone spoken to Quenuresh?"

"Relax, Kel, it's taken care of. They were running before Baird's healing pushed you under and Brodhelm spoke to Quenuresh. He's had men hauling grainsacks up in the hoist since dawn and the griffins are taking them to Aldoven's people. They're doling out rations and sending shivering Scanrans on their way. Honouring your word." Alanna grinned wider. "Then real fun started with the coerced troops. I believe they feel their clanchiefs' wives are no longer a good enough argument."

"Say rather their clanchiefs would not order them to obey a man opposed by dragons and manifest gods, whatever the personal cost." Kel hadn't seen Zerhalm among the soldiers. "An unpopular war is one thing, a visibly cursed one another."

"And any attack being suicidal for the van isn't encouraging." Raoul laid a long arm across her shoulders, smiling. "They're not happy people at all, Kel, and Alanna's right that you're a wonder. It's beautiful."

Kel stared down at the tense confrontations going on below in loud-voiced blocks and knots. "They're still here, though."

"Yes, they have their honour, Lady Kel." Zerhalm's sober voice was a relief. "They will not run, but I think they will no longer fight. It is for Maggur to prove he is not opposed by dragons and gods, and he can only do that by taking New Hope and surviving." He gave her a long look. "Did you mean to deny his rule by blódbeallár, Lady Kel?"

"More or less."

"Blódbeallár?" Wyldon frowned. "Because she burned Rathhausak?"

"To sack the clanhome, yes, that is the essence, my Lord. It is what Maggur did in his internal conquests. But the challenge was never proclaimed, until Lady Kel made it this morning, stating her deed and calling Maggur Reidarsson by bare name before his whole army."

"And the difference is?"

"Before he wanted to kill me, Wyldon. Now he has to, and if I've got it right, until he does the oaths he's extracted using that tradition become beado-gewrithan—battle-tied. I've done to him what he's done to others and if he can't do it back he's in trouble."

Zerhalm was nodding. "The hostages are held by oaths made under the laws of clanchief challenge. Lady Kel's position is anomalous, but the flames at Rathhausak spoke loudly—and now she has spoken louder." There was irony in his eyes but respect in his voice.

"You intended this, Kel?"

"The attacks on Mindelan made me think Maggur took blódbeallár seriously enough to make it worth playing odds. But I'd no idea what would happen—I just wanted to give him the biggest headache I could."

Raoul's arm tightened around her shoulders. "Well, you've done that alright. But don't you go offering single combat or anything silly."

"Different rules for that." Kel noticed a ripple among the Scanrans below and the noise of arguments faded. "Zerhalm, what's happening? Where's the spyglass?"

Imrah passed it and after a long look Zerhalm offered it to her, a strange expression on his face. "I think more congratulations are in order, Lady Kel. You've drawn the Wolf. That's Maggur and Sven Bjornsson sitting down to argue with the senior clansmen present."

Bjornsson must be the hard-faced officer who'd been in charge but her attention was on the Scanran king. He wasn't a nothing man like Blayce but in Stenmun's mould—big, carrying more belly but probably as strong, with that same hardness of face and manner. His hair was darker than many Scanrans', more bronze than blond, and heavily braided; his beard was darker still, full but close cropped; and while his posture made it hard to judge Kel thought his attitude combined menace with wariness, while the men ranged opposite him and Bjornsson showed caution and defiance. Part of Kel badly wanted to get a darking close enough to hear but it was too late for that. Reluctantly she surrendered the spyglass to Wyldon, eager to see the enemy wise Tortallans had feared for a decade and they'd all been fighting for three years.

"What do you think will happen, Zerhalm?"

"I honestly don't know, Lady Kel. The situation you have created is … complicated." He sounded appreciative. "I will be surprised if Maggur does not have to compromise. You have put him and Sven Bjornsson under enormous pressure, and they are far from home. He has a lot less freedom here than in Hamrkeng."

"And a lot less men than yesterday." Alanna was still grinning. "Leaving Genlith's traitors out of it he's down nearly two thousand overnight. D'you have a tally for their casualties?"

Kel waggled her hand. "Sixty plus loyalists in the rockfalls, at least another fifty experienced men in the woods, half-a-dozen archers, and fifty-odd loyalists the immortals killed last night." Aldoven's spidrens, and some centaurs with useful hands, had gone in under Quenuresh's strongest cloaking spells. "So one-sixty plus dead, most loyalists, and two hundred wounded, but I've no idea how many of those are back on duty."

"So … five, maybe six percent of the loyalists gone, and all the conscripts—call it two thousand. And half his giants, including the biggest. More than a quarter of his force, and nothing to show for it. If the coerced won't fight he'll be at less than fifty percent effectives." She shook her head. "Remind me to buy you anything you want, Kel."

"We're in agreement again, Pirate's Swoop." Wyldon passed the spyglass to Raoul. "If you write one of your understated reports on this, Keladry, you'll make a fortune selling it as a textbook. Not that anyone could emulate this trick of yours, but it is the shrewdest blow. I don't think there's a word for it."

Kel shrugged. "Neal calls it spiritual warfare. We learned it at Rathhausak. The elemental started it with Irnai, smoothing my way, and though I burned the castle to destroy Blayce's workshop, when I saw it lit up behind us I knew I'd attacked Maggur's legitimacy, not just his property. It was in my verbal report."

"So it was. Know your enemy, indeed. And plainly the gods approve."

She waggled a hand again. "Lord Sakuyo does, Wyldon, and perhaps Shakith. I don't know about the others, so don't go assuming, please. I'd say it's more that I've used leeway they're willing to grant, because of the necromancy and the whole timeway thing—so they've tolerated."

"Which isn't the same, though I suspect you're selling yourself short. Lord Mithros has always approved the cunning of a warrior, especially one who's outnumbered."

"And the Goddess will like granting the prayers of two thousand women and their children, Kel." Alanna transferred her grin to Wyldon. "We are in agreement again, Cavall. What in Tortall shall we do about it? People will talk."

"Try calling one another by name for starters. Before you know it you'll find you get on."

Kel ducked Alanna's and Wyldon's equally indignant stares and set about her overdue morning round. With darkings relaying images in cave and corral everyone was so well informed about the diminution of Maggur's forces Kel found herself damping excitement rather than trying to boost morale. There were still most of three thousand loyalists and more than a thousand seasoned troops ringing New Hope, and none had yet given up; enjoy the lull, yes, and be cheered by the mass desertion, but don't, don't relax; it's not over, the next phase will be brutal. And so the litany went through the morning, as elation was superseded by renewed resolution, albeit very cheerfully for men facing odds that might be worse than five-to-one, and included giants and serious mages.

She ate lunch in the caves with Irnai, who said Shakith was close, and went on to the King and Vanget. After enduring congratulations, and hearing welcome news that Ferghal's men were within a day of Northwatch, she had to explain blódbeallár. Vanget scratched his head.

"So that's what their debating is about. What's the outcome you're hoping for?"

"At best, coerced troops stand aside and wait for Maggur to win the blódbeallár challenge with his loyalists. At worst he browbeats them into attacking but they come in resentful with very shaky morale."

"And if he wins he's clear of it?"

"Oh yes."

"And if he loses?"

"I've no idea, Vanget. The Scanrans go home and pick someone sensible who's still alive, I suppose."

"Won't you be lord of Rathhausak, though?"

Kel stared. "Gods, no. There is no Rathhausak any more, neither castle nor village. All his surviving liegers are already here anyway."

The King's voice was grave though his eyes weren't, entirely. "Actually, Keladry, Vanget's right. In old Tortallan law you'd have to kill the lord in single combat, with the fief declared at stake and my consent to the challenge, but as best I understand blódbeallár—I'll check with Turomot, though what he'll do without ten clerks to summon I can't imagine—if Maggur dies here you could claim Rathhausak."

"Don't even think about it, sire. Rathhausak's not yours to convey, and I've already one burnt-out dwelling to deal with here."

Haven was visible and she didn't have to point. Vanget shook his head and the King winced. "You do have a way with words."

"Good." Kel found herself possessed of a magnificent fit of bad temper Yuki would rightly have told her was entirely shameful. "And we haven't won yet—honestly, I've been having to point that out all morning. The men who've deserted were ones I was hoping not to have to kill, and that goes for coerced troops too. The loyalists we're going to have to kill, one way or another, there are all but three thousand of them, and unlike those other poor fools I slaughtered they know exactly what they're doing. Practice your weapons. And eat your vegetables."

She stalked out, hoping the last phrase would soften the scold, and heard Vanget laugh but not the King. After a minute's thought half-way down the spiral she detoured to find Duke Turomot, who was interested to know His Majesty feared he might be reliant on clerks and delighted to meet Stanar, then her father, who listened with bright eyes before promising to help thwart any plan to make her Lady of Rathhausak.

"All else aside, my dear, it could be argued that if you were confirmed in that clanchieftaincy you should inherit the Bloody Throne—certainly a seat on the Council of Ten. I'd not wish that on any child of mine and diplomatically it'd be a frightful embarrassment."

"Papa! You're as bad as Jonathan."

"Am I, my dear? I expect so. First time I've heard you use the King's bare name, though."

"Gah!"

Fulminating, she left him chuckling and went to compose herself at the shrines by telling Lord Sakuyo firmly there was a limit and she really would not be happy if he tried to exceed it. There was no reply, and after more sensible prayers to all the gods in their niches she went to the corral and amused Dom with the story, deeply appreciating that neither he nor any of the veterans' needed telling that nothing was over. They hadn't yet been in action, they knew unfinished business, and the news Maggur was in the field had set a new mark for when it would be over. While she was there Wolset and his squad came by with lunch to see Dom and she ate with them; they too were sober if appreciative of her trick, and she blessed the irrepressibility that ensured Wolset couldn't resist teasing her, despite the stature the last few days had given her among all the soldiers at New Hope.

"Wot it is, Lady Kel, is you've bin right all along. You said there'd be a battle 'ere in the Greenwoods when no-one else knew, an' there is. You said it would look bad as can be, an' it did. You said it'd be a lot better than it seemed—'ard goin', all the same, but better—an' it is." Thoughtfully he fed an apple to Peachblossom, who'd come to join them and slobbered

recognition on his shoulder. "An' so far you've 'ad an answer for everythin' wot the Scanrans 'ave tried, even them giants, an' very bad mannered they was. So it stands to reason you'll 'ave an answer for anythin' else 'Is Beardness out there comes up with, dunnit?" He grinned lop-sidedly. "'Oo'd be an officer? Bad enough bein' a sergeant, an' I've you to thank, Lady Kel."

"Hey, I didn't promote you, Wolset. Blame my lord."

"You made me a corp'ral, Lady Kel, at Forgotten Well, cos I knew we 'ad to trap that killin' device's 'ead, as if it weren't obvious to any looby, so I blames you for settin' me on the wicked road to command." He shook his head sorrowfully. "My ol' Ma 'ud be turnin' in 'er grave if she was dead. As it is she's spendin' me pay on spintries an' song from wot I can make out, the ol' darlin', an' expectin' me to make captain any minute. You've a lot to be answerin' for, Lady Kel, gods be thanked."

She returned to the main level laughing but thankful Dom hadn't yet told his former squad about their relationship and wondering if he'd told Neal, but she was spared a trip to the infirmary by a wave from Imrah on the gatehouse roof and a simultaneous squeak from Ebony.

"Just looking for you, Kel. Their debate seems to be over." "With what result?"

"Not sure, but the giants and a bunch of men got started on that construction again a while back. The wheel-thing's in place now—must be some kind of winding gear though I've never seen the like."

They reached the parapet, where Alanna, Wyldon, and others were still observing. Ruthlessly she sent Brodhelm on a round of the alures, and seeing the hoist going up with grainsacks contacted Quenuresh to make sure all was being done that should be. Prowling, she saw Numair, not wearing his jerkin, working with Petrin on a merlon next to the crenel from which the petrified giant had fallen, Var'istaan standing by, and trotted down to discover the problem—a crack across two sides—and summon a shield squad with pointed words. A chastened Numair was explaining he thought the giant's foot must have expanded when petrified when he realised Kel wasn't listening.

"What is it?"

"They're taking down tents, but not packing to leave."

They weren't, but after half-an-hour it was clear the coerced men were withdrawing from the battle. They moved about a mile up the valley, setting colourful standards about their perimeter interspersed with truce-flags, and Zerhalm confirmed formal declaration under blódbeallár that they awaited the result of a fight. It was the optimal outcome Kel had hoped for but freed the loyalists to turn attention back to New Hope, and volleys started again from considerably closer in. Their archers and shieldmen risked higher casualties but arrows arrived sooner and aim was better. With two dead and three in the infirmary in quick succession—the effects of the lull despite everything she'd tried—Kel reduced manning of the alures as much as possible, sending men to shelter under staircases while squads took turns to provide lookouts who varied the crenel they used for hasty checks; after climbing to the Eyrie she ordered extra men up there and took all guards off the alures. It wouldn't work at night but by day no-one could avoid detection without spells Numair and Harailt could sense.

From that height she could see more clearly the materials laid out beside the huge wheel in its housing, over which a massive tripod was being bolted into place. There were still a great pile of stout wooden slats and two long, thick beams as well as a pile of smaller ones, another of rope,

and a mound she couldn't identify. The wheel remained a mystery but the rest added up ominously, and when giants heaved the long beams end-to-end and slotted them together before beginning to bind them with a thick rope jacket and a collar of smaller beams to brace the join her last doubts vanished. The thing was the biggest trebuchet she'd ever heard of: slats would form a box for the counterweight, the wheel must allow giants to wind the beam down, and it would fire from where it was, beyond arrowshot even from the Eyrie. Using the proportions of giants and mages she estimated the length of the beam, close to fifty feet—there had been timbers projecting from the back of one lumber cart, itself twenty feet long, so that was about right. Some maths confirmed that a cast of four-hundred -and-fifty yards was possible; the payload wouldn't be less than fifty pounds and could be more. How the thing could hold together she hadn't a clue—more bloodspells, perhaps, like the giants' cloaking Numair had thought strangely bound to the earth— but she had no doubt that inside the wheel was some complicated metalwork in heavy steel; nor that the hatted man watching the last stages of construction with Maggur and Sven Bjornsson was Genlith.

The afternoon passed assembling what defences were possible. Casts by daylight would be visible, and while they couldn't be deflected there was a chance basilisks could shatter them; Numair might be able to do the same; Harailt couldn't, but could shield the basilisks. By night icelights might give sufficient warning, and every spare came out of storage. The messhall kitchen was evacuated, and as many horses as possible moved to the corral; the rest were loosely hitched along the railings of the livestock pens, Alder and Peachblossom doing their best to explain the danger. Kel decided to leave the infirmary for now, though she put them on notice: it was more than a hundred yards further from the trebuchet and unless the Scanrans had something denser than rock to fill the counterweight box, now almost assembled, she didn't think even that monster could reach beyond the messhall. The Scanrans would target walls and gatehouse: much as she would hate it, they could knock down all internal buildings and be no better off; what was needed was a breach or two in both walls, reasonably close to the top of the roadway. Finally, considering that fact, she extended the evacuation order to headquarters. Paperwork could stay, but guests cleared their rooms, moving to the caves, and Tobe and Irnai, with help from Fanche, packed Kel's valuables. The spellmirrors went, and the coffin pile was moved into the inner angle of New Hope.

The sun was far west when everything she could think of was done, and the trebuchet recognisable, however grotesquely oversized. The beam speared skyward above the counterweight box, which the giants were filling with—Kel cursed—chunks of finstone from excavation of the steps. It took blows from great hammers to shatter each slab, but though they were in arrow range there was no point wasting shafts when hits would only tickle. The giants grunted as they hammered and carried; each chunk must weigh hundreds of pounds and Kel saw more than thirty added to the box before the men around the trebuchet were satisfied—a counterweight of at least five tons, she worked out, cursing again. Insult was added to injury when three giants lumbered to the fin to drag off an unbroken slab as a cast, and though there was a deal of hammering before it was loaded into the base, where the sling must be, incoming weight would be measured not in tens of pounds but in hundredweights.

She passed her grim conclusions to basilisks and mages, ordered everyone off the alures, and returned to the parapet where Uinse and Brodhelm waited. Alanna, Wyldon, and Raoul were there again, mute, and this time Vanget, despite her protests; the King remained in the lookout under Tobe's watchful eye but she couldn't threaten the general with his wife, and as the trebuchet neared completion arrow fire had shifted to the east, rattling on petrified canvas over the animal pens. Curiosity about what the thing would look like in action became burning as two giants climbed inside the wheel and began to trudge round—not a wheel at all but a treadmill for beings eighteen feet tall, geared to lift that monstrous counterweight forty-five feet in … about twenty minutes.

That meant two shots an hour, and Kel's heart sank. Those around her remained silent as the beam tilted, foreshortening and passing below the horizontal. It was nearly full dusk but New Hope's icelights were brightening, and the Scanrans had magelights as well as fires around the trebuchet. In the strange mix of steady and flickering light it looked more peculiar than ever, a wheeled insect with giants and mortals tending it as bees did their queen. Kel knew the men clustered there would be locking the beam down and attaching the sling in which the cast rested, but there was an obscenity she couldn't dismiss in the figures crawling into the thing's hindquarters. It took a while and she wanted to hope nightfall would abort firing, preventing observation of casts or giving the thing dew in its ropework, anything—but she knew nothing would stop Maggur from seeing if his weapon would do the job.

When men pulled back from the trebuchet one giant remained, wrapping a rope around its hands and setting itself to heave. Kel wasn't surprised the thing's trigger was too massive for a man to shift, but the giant's deliberate movements ratcheted up tension. She didn't see any signal from Maggur but it heaved and staggered back. For a split second nothing seemed to happen, then the beam was rising as the counterweight fell, its end whipping up, pulling sling and cast. The glittering slab of finstone caught icelight from the roadway, its trajectory lower than Kel had expected but well above the roof level she stood on, eighty feet above the moat, and by fluke or good planning the range was perfect. Sailing rather than tumbling in the air the finstone glided on its arc to smash squarely into outer west merlon 9, snapping it off and sending it flying into the killing field to break spikes and slam to a halt against the inner palisade. The finstone hung a moment on the wall and cracked in half, one end tipping over the fractured merlon to rest on the alure, the other falling back to land crunchingly on the dislodged rocknet and scrape down the glacis in a shower of stone. The impact was deafening but sharp, and the gatehouse roof slapped Kel's feet as if she'd jumped flat-footed. Whether she had shouted Kel wasn't sure, but everyone was silent as they absorbed the shocking effectiveness of the weapon and heard distant cheers and giants' bellowing.

It was far worse than Kel had feared. The thing wasn't just bigger, it was more efficient by an order of magnitude—much heavier casts at twice the range and rate of any previous trebuchet. The Scanrans had the range and a dozen hits like that would destroy a section of palisade. There would be delays and stray shots, but the cold fact was that Ferghal's men were still at least four days away, probably five, and Maggur's men could have a viable breach as early as tomorrow evening, certainly the day after. It wouldn't be a good breach and the scramble up would be brutal, but if they were prepared to take real casualties and keep coming it would be hard to defend—especially if broken sections of palisade bridged the killing field. And if giants were prepared to lead …. Across the valley the treadmill began to revolve again.

"Alright everyone. Go on standing here if it helps you think, but think hard. We have to find a way to destroy that thing, and we have to get it done tomorrow. Uinse, Brodhelm, ask the men, Mikal and visiting captains. Vanget, ask His Majesty, and if you've any advice on the end of a spellmirror, get it. Alanna, Numair and Harailt. Raoul, Dom and veterans. Wyldon, Councillors, please. I'll talk to Quenuresh, Var'istaan, Kuriaju, and Barzha. We'll meet at dawn and see what we've got."

"Where should we meet, Keladry?" Wyldon echoed her crispness.

"At the shrines. Praying seems like a good idea."

With thudding crashes punctuating the night no -one got much sleep. Kel refused to watch—there was nothing she could do and everyone was as safe as they could be—and spent the hours dozing between impacts in Dom's arms, in her room in the evacuated headquarters. You could call it disobeying her own orders and avoidance—and part of her did with each slap of impact as New Hope jumped and broke under the assault; but what she was fairly sure she'd have to do couldn't be done by night. It was another obscene joke by Lord Sakuyo, so fraught with risk that she was duty bound to assess any other possibility and would do so at the dawn meeting. Until then the night was her own, and eventually she slept for a longer period to wake two hours before dawn with her head clear and her belly a knot of fear. There was no cure for that but there was for tension, and if ever she'd needed physical ease it was now. Dom was quick to respond when she roused him, but she was as possessed by the desire to give feeling as to feel; his eyes were wide when she straddled him and his breathing ragged long before they were done.

"Gods. Kel."

Deliciously languid with that radiant ball of energy gathering in her belly that would expand into every limb she laid a finger to his lips. "Shh. I have to do something today that scares me spitless and I might not survive. Doesn't matter what. Duty calls, needs must. I love you, Domitan of Masbolle, and I want to marry you and have more children than we can count. And if I don't survive I know you'll look after Tobe, Irnai, and the animals. Shh. It's truth. I regret nothing but not having the sense to drag you to bed when I first met you, and if I died again right now I'd die as happy as I am scared." She leaned to kiss him. "You once told me you weren't one for talking of gods, just a soldier who got on with what needs doing, but when you heard Irnai you knew gods were watching."

"I remember."

"They're watching again just now"—her face lit with mischief—"even though they're being very rude and I sincerely wish they were shocked, though they won't be—but not the same ones, or not the same way. Then it was the elemental and Lords Gainel and Shakith, but I think this is Lord Sakuyo's show and what gives me hope is that his joke won't be half so funny if I'm not alive to enjoy it. I know, but think of everything we've said about his sense of humour and the timeway's gifts of irony. Shh. I'd be a fool to assume his humour couldn't comprehend the death I owe the gods. I'm on borrowed time and we know it. But if it is like that, remember, please, there'll be a great, fat joke somewhere, and if you see that, soldier-wise, embrace it, hmm? for my sake and your own, and everyone's. Laugh the terrible laugh with him, even if you're crying. Tobe and Irnai will understand. Do it for me together, if it comes to it, as the last payment for my borrowed days."

She loved him once more, honing the energy he gave, and rose to dress. When he saw she was leaving her armour and what she was taking he limped to kiss her, hard, but didn't try to delay. Her first duty was to find out what had been happening and she found Brodhelm and Uinse in the gatehouse office, a soldier at the narrow window to give warning of any cast headed their way. Alanna was snoring on a cot next door.

"How bad is it?"

Brodhelm waggled a hand. "Good, bad, and worse news, Lady Kel."

She braced herself. "In reverse order, please."

"Seven dead, one badly injured. A cast skimmed the outer wall and hit the inner low, edge on. Smashed through and a Frasrlund squad was sheltering right there. Four injuries from flying fragments—Mikal's Baker lost an eye, the others are bad cuts. And one cast fell short—hit the roadway and I'm pretty sure smashed one of the pit-traps. What I don't know is what the Scanrans

noticed."

Kel pushed it away—nothing to be done. "I really don't like that line of thinking. On to the merely bad news, please."

"The upper third of outer west's gone between merlons 7 and 10, and rubble's compromised the killing field. I've had a fair bit shifted but there's chunks we can't move and a dozen spikes broken. Two bombs smashed, but they didn't explode, thank the gods. One cast overshot—banged into the shelf and stopped a foot short of the messhall."

"What's the good news?"

"Their rate of fire's high and those giants are working like mules but accuracy's not as good as the first shot suggested. Some must be weight variation in casts and ropes stretching, but in the last couple of hours two have gone high and fallen short—glacis and an almighty splosh in the moat. Uinse thinks they've a problem with the sling and I'm beginning to agree—the last two shots have been slower, too, like they're trying to adjust something."

"So casualties aside, we've a sixth of a breach, but if their accuracy's down more time. And no way to estimate how much."

"We might have that soon. It was eight of ten hits, now it's two misses, two hits. Big difference."

"I'm more worried by that compromised trap. If anyone comes to look target them as heavily as you can. And do use griffin-and-stormwing shafts if any mages stray into range. Slings too."

"What are you goin' to be doin', Lady Kel?"

"Listening to the King-in-Council, Uinse, which I'm willing to bet will get us nowhere, then doing my best to stop that thing." She pointed to the weapons she'd set down. "Wish me luck, and pray to any gods you think might give you credit. They're all watching."

They stared and nodded. Uinse cleared his throat. "I was talkin' to Kuriaju a bit ago and 'e said weather was changin'. Rain from the west, 'e reckons, so if I'm guessin' right you might not want to be waitin' long."

"Right, though we have to have the meeting first." Brodhelm rose. "We'll come with you." "Give me a few minutes? I've praying to do."

The terrace was deserted save for Kuriaju, sitting in the hoist with legs drawn up, gazing at stars. She settled herself before Lord Mithros's shrine; he was the proper god for a warrior's deed, then the Goddess for strength as a woman, the Black God for the death she risked and the life she was living, Shakith and Gainel for the absurd dream of it, and Weiryn and the Green Lady for defence of their major shrines and in final thanks for their gifts—but it was with Lord Sakuyo that she felt matters truly lay, and she spoke to him eye to eye, not in supplication. The best jokes, as well as catching the jokers—which surely included the god—harmed none; but there was justice to serve, the Black God's sadness, Shakith's support of tricksters. There were his supplicants Yuki and Cricket, and the hopes of all his Blessed. And whatever had gained dragons' attention, which he might not care for at all but then again, as a trickster, might. She'd been slow to understand his involvement, she knew, but never disrespectful, and once she'd begun to grasp it she'd served him as best she could. The dead might be peaceful and she didn't fear being so, however she was

terrified of the death she was going to risk, but she did think laughter sounded more richly in mortal and divine realms and selfishly wished her borrowed time to be a great heap, wriggling with laughing children along the further timeway, not a sadly measured hoard she'd already expended; if it couldn't be, it couldn't, but in that case she trusted him—with a look the King-in-Council would have fallen silent seeing—to do everything in his divine power to guard and aid Tobe and Dom. She wanted to hear a laughing voice but the gods were past speaking until it was done. The ease of her body was flowing round knots in her stomach, and if that was the limit of his gift she was content, knowing better than to wish fear away; no god granted such a boon, any more than they let anyone win without sweating. She rose and bowed, felt fear coiling, and stuck out her tongue, defying it, before going across to Kuriaju.

"Good morning. Uinse said you think the weather's changing."

"Protector, you continue to amaze. And yes—pressure is dropping."

"From the west?"

"The air comes from the sea."

"When?"

"Sooner than later—the wind changed while the moon was high."

He was still sitting in the hoist, and she contemplated it. "Could you tell more accurately from higher up?"

"Probably. False dawn starts."

"Then let's go, please."

On the way up she resolutely faced out, hands gripping the wooden rail, eyes on the messhall Weiryn's least gift had made so beautiful. The story its pillars told with simple vigour, shining by godlight, should not end yet, and her fear of heights was already as burnt out as such fear could be. She had paid for it twice over, Conal too, and Lord Sakuyo's joke was precisely aimed. At the top they didn't leave the platform but looked west. Kel could see clouds catching the unrisen sun, and Kuriaju's keener gaze told him they were beyond the peak from which the Greenwoods flowed, but not by more than thirty miles.

"Late morning, Protector—noon at latest—and anyone outside will be getting wet. Intermittently. Those peaks and troughs say squalls."

"Thunder and lightning?"

"Hail also, perhaps. And hard gusts."

"Right. Thank you, Kuriaju."

"Is it a sending, Protector?"

"Not by any god. But the timeway … maybe. What was the weather like during the Godwars?"

"I have no idea. Quenuresh might know, or Diamondflame, but none other to whom I have spoken." He sounded serious. "A storm is mentioned in an ogresong about the gods' skullroad."

"The timeway likes echoes." She looked at him with lively curiosity. "If it's permitted. Kuriaju, can you tell me what that ogresong says? I'm ashamed to say I've never imagined you have songs."

"We have many, Protector, and there is no secret but we sing in … Old Ogric, you might say. It is low and slow, and even the unicorns, who like all music, rarely listen. The … Song of the Dragons for their Younglings in the Stone by the Road to the New Hall of Mithros's Pride in … well, there's more of the title, but it says that when dragonfire heated the Sungod's shield, so he could not touch it when the First Dragon confronted him to demand the Great Compact and inviolability of the Dragonlands, there was a fierce storm and at first mighty winds blew, scouring sky and land, but then they stopped and rain fell straight and heavy, drenching the earth. It is why Mithros took the new skullroad though the revenge the dragons threatened was known to him, for it was the quickest way to his new home." His blue skin caught the first light, and his voice was like a griffin's purr, rumbling half below hearing. "I had not thought this. Perhaps you are right the timeway acts. If so, there will be many songs of this day."

"Maybe, Kuriaju. It's why Lord Sakuyo couldn't promise me anything, I think. Even his jokes bow to the timeway's music. Tell me, if you're walking an unknown surface what do you want on your feet?"

He didn't even blink. "Nothing, Protector. My feet are other than yours, but bare skin is usually best."

"That makes sense. Thank you. We should go down."

Again she made herself look out. She had flown on a dragon's back out of the mortal realms, and the idea of a dragon's tolerance of fear of heights took her most of the way. What, after all, would a mortal think of a dragon afraid to walk on the ground because it was too low? And above a hundred feet what difference did another hundred make? Her fear wasn't incremental but absolute—twice burned away but never wholly rooted out; every fragment was just as absolute so there was no negotiating. She dropped the fragments one by one into her Yamani lake, watching the surface splash, ripple, and settle, holding it calm and still.

"Can you teach our children that, Protector?"

"Teach them what, Kuriaju?"

"What you have just done with your fear."

"You can tell?"

"The stormwings have been teaching us to read mortal emotions. It is hard for us, but yours rippled from distress to calm and your purpose settled. Fighting ogres use chants before battle, but nothing so pure."

"I will if I can, Kuriaju, or ask Lady Yukimi about being a lake. It's a Yamani discipline— everyone learns it at the Imperial Court." She touched his face in the way that substituted for a hug. "I know you don't pray but if there's anything ogres do for luck, try it before the rain comes? I don't think that storm's an act of the timeway—it's the leading edge. If New Hope falls your kin should be safe in the caves, with some creative stonework, and if it doesn't and I'm alive I'll gladly teach your children to be lakes, though they won't appreciate Yamani teaching methods. Their mothers might."

His rumbling laugh framed her return to the main level and the anxious greetings of King-in-Council. Runnerspring was absent of course, but her captains and others were present,

conscious of their company. The King had a quizzical look on his drawn features.

"Stargazing, Lady Keladry?"

"Rain before noon, sire, and for my money the timeway with it. Did you have any bright

ideas?"

"One. Numair reckons that trebuchet is anchored by bloodspells, but he's always been strong with earthmoving and I've the Dominion Jewel. We ought to be able to topple it."

Kel had thought of that. "At what cost, to you and the valley?"

He shrugged. "More drained than we are, perhaps greatly so, a large hole, and whatever power the Jewel might draw on."

"And when you last moved earth it killed every seed in Tortall?" "That was to stop an earthquake."

"And this would be to bend the timeway. Our seeds have the goddess's blessings, we'll need that land if we survive, and I don't want Numair or you anything but blasting fresh if those loyalists rush a breach. So that's not first choice, sire. Let's see what anyone else has."

They did, while the sun rose and day began to warm the air, and it was much as Kel expected. If they could get to the trebuchet destroying it wouldn't be difficult, and the skills were available: mages could blast, two veterans and a convict soldier had experience with setting platforms for heavy objects and knew how one could best be undermined, and a squad could carry blazebalm. But they wouldn't get there, nor five squads, and New Hope would be easier pickings without them. Anything that involved descending the roadway was suicide, but there was a case for a burn-and-flee sally from the corral, and Dom made it. It might work, and mounted men could escape back round the fin, but there'd have to be a powerful mage involved, and the chances were not good. Kel tried to look squarely at the effect of knowing the mage could only be Numair but her conviction that he wouldn't survive didn't alter the facts that any mage might fall and without one the sally would be lucky to inflict any damage. The potential losses were high to catastrophic and the risk of no gain substantial, so it came behind the King's pure blasting, which risked fewer deaths.

Var'istaan made an offer she hadn't thought he would, but a rock spell amplified by Numair was the stuff of nightmares. She questioned them briefly but they couldn't guarantee tight focus. If they'd been able to say they'd hit a fifty-foot ring around the trebuchet she'd have tried it, but two-hundred-and-fifty was an optimistic guess and the spell wouldn't stop at the trebuchet. By the time it hit the western hills it could be double whatever it had been mid-valley, Numair had no idea if echoes would petrify, Var'istaan conceded they might, and either way a great swathe of goddess-blessed earth would go as well as whatever walked, flew, crawled, or burrowed with the bad luck to be anywhere near enough, or opposite, or quite possibly a valley or two over.

"Thank you, Var'istaan, but that's a last resort and only if you warn as many of the People as you can. And we have no right to risk the goddess's blessing like that."

"So what do we do, Lady Keladry?"

Disart was holding up but lacked the discipline not to be querulous.

"I'm not sure yet. Does anyone have anything else?"

Ennor coughed. "I'm not suggesting they should, Kel, but can any of the other immortals

do anything? Have to ask."

"Anything on legs has the same problem, Ennor—it's a suicide mission with a low chance of success and they'd need mage support too. The stormwings could drop blazebalm bombs, but there are mages guarding it and unless they can be taken out it's likely any bomb would be detonated well short." She gave a rueful smile. "A dragon could do it in an eyeblink, but even Quenuresh can't make an illusion loose real fire. And the griffins won't fight like that, nor should they—not that they could do much before crossbows or magic killed them. It's a mortal problem and needs a mortal answer."

That was true but Kel wondered about the way giants were behaving and she'd bet they were Chaos-touched. It would explain Weiryn's gift—a counterbalance to Uusoae's legacy.

"Fair enough. But it leaves the cupboard bare."

"Not quite, Ennor. I've an idea but it's a very long shot. You'll all see if it works out. Meantime, I don't think it'll happen but plan how you'll defend the caves—even with an army on the main level New Hope won't have fallen if they hold, and I'd not care to have to assault that cavemouth. Nothing to stop use of the rock spell there, so brick the entrance solid with Scanrans and wait for Lord Ferghal to lift the siege." Faintly she smelled coming rain and swung to her captains. "This is going to sound as if I've lost my mind, but I want the sally horses ready by noon, and riders ready. The chance begins then." She'd almost said the timeway would be here; it came to the same thing. "Brodhelm, remember the target's Maggur—get him and everything changes. And a sally force will come round the fin behind him. Talk to Quenuresh—she can talk to centaurs who might flank a charge." There was no guidance in any shrine, nor anywhere but her heart. "And Uinse, one more thing." He had formal responsibility for the walls, and the necessary ruthlessness. "If it comes to it and I'm not there, remember what else is in the box of mageblast keys, and use it. Snap, snap—no slower, yes?"

He swallowed and nodded. "Lady Kel."

"Then let's be doing, people." Fear of argument almost stopped her from hugging her father. "Pray for me."

"Always, my dear."

Avoiding company, she ate a late breakfast, for strength not appetite, and stopped only to collect the godbow and quiver she'd left in the gatehouse captain's office before heading for the Eyrie. The climb had never seemed longer, and she wasn't sure if that was her mind or the first ripple of the timeway. Nor did she let herself slow when she reached the Eyrie, sitting as she greeted the guards and Seed to remove her boots and sadly worn socks. Lalasa would scold her, and the floor under her feet was gritty and cold, but Kuriaju was right; flesh did the job best. That explained a lot about the gods, when you thought about it. The shot the trebuchet had just made, deepening the breach in the outer wall, had travelled four-hundred -and-fifty yards, and from the Eyrie the trebuchet was further away still, allowing for height and angle. But before her the fin stretched away.

The astonished sentries stared as she strung the godbow, slipped it across the other shoulder from the sealed quiver with the precious arrows, and climbed out of the north-west window onto the gently sloping surface Var'istaan and Petrin had carved away. The cut rock ended and bird-stained finstone began, the dung fresh and slippy; she had to focus to avoid it, and make her strides one at a time, blessing the mere playfulness of the wind that usually scoured the top of the fin, clearing even moss. This was an allering, no different from that of the Palace wall Wyldon had made her run, and she hadn't fallen then. Besides, every step closed the angle and if she was so silly as to look she'd already see the trebuchet more squarely, with treadmill and

housing to aim at, and another step made the shot better still.

More than two hundred yards along the fin it dipped and narrowed where a block had split away on the southern side. They'd found its remnants cutting the outlet sough for the corral moat, and as she neared the thin saddle she slowed and sat, adjusting godbow and quiver. She didn't, mustn't let herself stop, and edged forward until she could extend her legs on either side and ride the saddle as if it were a horse fatter than Peachblossom. Riding Diamondflame had been a kind of practice—but now there was no dragonmagic to hold her, which was good because she had to move along this saddle, using hands to brace and swing. Nor would infinite caution do because wind was plucking at her and that had been a stronger gust. Her time was as limited as Maggur's, and why bother opening her eyes? Her hands told her she was on course, and she braced and swung, braced and swung, holding an image of a still, gently steaming lake, like the hot pools in the mountains above the Imperial Palace. When at last she felt the saddle rising and widening she braced and swung one more time, feeling her thighs stretch as she pressed herself to the rock, and reached out as far as she could, finding bird-droppings and moving that hand well aside, thighs trembling, to scrape it clean before cautiously bringing it back and trying to dig her fingers in. Sheer armstrength pulled her forward, allowing her legs to rise, and she extended once more, pulled, and convulsively drew her legs under her to kneel like someone making obeisance in the Carthaki manner. A glimpse through eyelashes showed a broadening wedge of fin and she scuttled forward from the drop behind her.

The surface of her lake was boiling and she cooled it, concentrating its heat into an energising ball in her heart. Her stomach could mind its own business, and so could the wuthering wind, because she'd come as far as she could. Twenty yards further on the fin dropped a hundred feet in a jagged cliff, the first of a series that brought it to earth fifty yards short of the Greenwoods, but the wedge she knelt on was no further from the trebuchet than Vinson had been from the eastern alure when she took him down, and she stood far higher than New Hope's walls. It would be almost at right angles, and if she opened her eyes and turned her head she'd see her target, always a good idea, even with a godbow and especially with these arrows. Looking at the rock in front of her would be the way to start—a little further away than that, so she'd be able to push herself to stand in one smooth movement. She took a breath, felt Ebony slither down her tunic, opened her eyes, and nearly squawked. Junior sat five feet in front of her with a look that hovered between intrigued and affronted. Beside him Ebony regarded her with head cocked and for one crackling instant a vista flashed in her mind of her people watching until she crushed it beneath her lake with all other fears. It was enough that her voice sounded calm, however the lazy, blustery wind snatched at it.

"What are you doing?"

"Help?" Ebony's squeak came clearly as the wind died again.

"Thank you. Can you talk to Junior?"

"Can talk. Not make listen."

"Tell me. Ask him to help you anchor my feet, once I'm set." She didn't wait for acknowledgements but invited Lord Sakuyo to make the calmness beneath all his laughter that of her lake and stood, finding her balance and swinging a leg forward. She planted her foot in a sideways move that brought her into her archer's stance. "Now."

She couldn't say more because the void before her filled her vision and her ears roared, the blue air dulled by clouds she would see if she looked behind her and the far Vassa shining in sunlight, Scanra beyond. The valley was beautiful, and Spidren Wood, even the lines of drooping flags on the standards round the coerced men's camp, and the trebuchet was below her, half-cocked, giants toiling inside. They were probably innocents, touched by Uusoae and driven by

magecraft, but so had the tauroses been and neither pity nor guilt nor cramping stomach and faltering courage mattered beside what they would help Maggur do if they could.

The sealed quiver had to be opened but the catch seemed to co -operate as the godbow did with her clumsiness, letting the top flip open. She could feel heat from the three golden-orange fletchings on her face in the second before she slid the quiver back to her shoulder. Then the godbow was in her right hand, her reaching left met a shaft that leaped into her fingers, and the automatic flick of eyes not even terror could prevent saw its high-arched cock fletching correctly positioned, so as she nocked she had only to let the gleaming shaft settle on her fist. Her alignment was true, only depth of draw and angle remained. With Vinson she'd felt a moment of rightness; here on the fintop in a dead calm that could not last she flashed one last prayer that it might come again and be heeded among her screaming nerves. Then she dipped the bow to trigger her firing sequence, reaching full draw at the top of her arc, and with eyes boring into the trebuchet let the reverse arc begin.

The moment came and hand obeyed intuition. The arrow arched in sunlight and as it dropped into the fin's shadow left a glowing trail she hoped all could see but for a long, dreadful moment she thought it was going to fall short, that she had fired too soon, too high, and agonies flashed in her mind at her ignorance of what would happen if such a fletching struck New Hope's earth—but the wind that however strangely still up here was being channelled around the fin extended its arc. Magic bloomed above the trebuchet in ugly colours and the sunbird -fletched shaft cut through it as if it weren't there to strike the treadmill frame. Kel saw it hit but felt wind push her and knew with utter clarity that she could watch or run and perhaps live. Smoothly her hands slung the godbow over her shoulder, and she gasped an order to Ebony, lying over her front foot. "Seal the quiver—I've no time."

Junior's spread forepaws were on her rear foot, outer claws gripping rock and inner ones drawing thick trickles of blood. He had as apologetic a look as she'd ever seen and she smiled genuine gratitude at the immortal. He was a youngling doing his earnest best against griffin nature, and his gift answered the corruption of the giants.

"Thank you, my Lord, for everything. Please let go now."

She felt Ebony brush her hand on its way to the quiver, and forced herself to move, front leg swinging and Junior's paw pulling away just in time as her other leg followed. As soon as she'd taken the stride she knew slowing to inch across the narrow saddle was impossible, not only because the wind would catch her. The clouds she'd seen as her gaze flicked west before locking on the stone at her feet had been miles away but the turbulence preceding them wasn't. She would probably die if she tried to run the saddle but she'd certainly die if she didn't, and her bare foot landed well into the fin's narrowing V and she had no more choices to make. Prayer was really no more than putting one foot in front of the other, carrying on even when it was plainly absurd, necessity behind and next to nothing ahead, and if you were heading in a direction the gods liked your foot would land on glorious, solid rock and not slip if that was bird droppings under it, or even your own blood. And this was prayer in its purest form, imploring request and contingent action in lockstep, and that was Junior, accompanying her across the void because she was flying. The insane view never meant for mortals was the same, unnatural geometries of what she was protecting on either hand, far below, but New Hope was etched in light she didn't understand that reminded her of something, and more importantly the fin was widening before her with the Eyrie beyond, guards gaping at the window and other faces with them.

Her legs were pumping and the Eyrie getting larger, with the guards and other figures in it. Their heads seemed to be wobbling to and away from her and she wished they wouldn't because it was like a tug to veer from the line she had to follow, and she mustn't give in to the wind wuthering that same song as its pressure grew. Junior peeled away on her other side with a ringing

cry that curled around her to balance all, and the guards were beginning to dive aside, so slowly, but they had a floor to land on. Yet it wouldn't do to break the bow now and she reached an arm to bind it to her side and risked one braking stride, feeling her foot slip and grip and slip again as her other foot came through. She lifted both and turned, aligning herself to slide through the window, bisecting guards like an axe splitting wood and felt her feet hit the floor, jarring shock spearing through her but momentum sufficient to pivot her over them to slam into Raoul. He was braced but she drove out his breath in a great huff as long arms closed round her and he reeled back to clank into the parapet of the far window. He lost more breath as he sat but his hands snapped out to stop them both, slapping at the stone edges of the window, and as their combined weight came forward again and her feet met the floor with a burst of pain his arms were around her as fiercely as Dom's had ever been.

"Gods. Gods. Kel."

His voice was a wheeze and behind her she could hear wind rising in a gust that shrieked over the rock and would surely have killed her, but her blood was fizzing and she beamed at him foolishly. "You taught me to go flying, then a dragon did. What's a girl to do?"

She heard a snort and Alanna's concerned voice. "Good question. Goddess, your feet are a mess. Turn her round, Raoul, and let me look."

As he was turning her, careful of the godbow and quiver across her back, memory cracked into her head like thunder. "Did it work?"

Alanna stared, purple eyes wide and her head surrounded by a gleaming halo. "Look behind me, Kel."

The halo dropped away as Alanna knelt, red hair shining, and Kel's eyes rose to the window. Every inch of the trebuchet was glowing in impossible reds and yellows, even the beam, an insect sun dwarfing glowing figures arched inside its treadmill and bright phantoms dancing away from its incandescence. There was no smoke but the air shimmered with heat and ordinary-coloured men were fleeing. It was too bright to do more than glimpse and she understood the way gazes had flickered to and fro, marvelling at her prideful assumption and forgiving herself for it with Lord Sakuyo's liking for his thunder. All good jokes caught the joker and she let her eyes meet Alanna's. "Good." The timeway was nearly here. "Where are my boots?"

"It's better than good, Kel, gods all bless. And your boots can wait—you've made a proper mess of your feet. That griffin's made holes an inch deep and you've a dozen dirty cuts."

"Alanna, I can't wait. Timeway's arriving. Field patch, and my boots."

The idea of commanding the Lioness struck Kel as absurd but Alanna didn't hesitate.

"This'll hurt then. I'd better do your hands first."

She stood, and Kel was surprised to see her own palms scraped raw with a long burn on her left thumb. Purple fire spread, stinging then soothing, and she felt her palms tingle and the burn itch. Purple faded, and the burn was only a ragged line of pink. Experimentally she flexed fingers, feeling stiffness but little pain. "Thank you."

"Wait till I'm done. You're going to want to hold Raoul's hands."

Alanna knelt again, more fire curling from her fingers, and Kel's feet erupted into pain as if she'd poured spirits in every cut she'd ever had. Her hands clamped on Raoul's as he grasped them and then she let the pain wash through her in the Yamani way, like unseen currents in her

calm lake swirling through a net. Her hands relaxed again and her voice was calm though sweat trickled on her forehead.

"So long as it's quick. Ebony, if you're there, and Seed, tell the captains rain's coming soon, and hard. Archers should get under cover."

She felt Ebony return to her shoulder. "Here. Telling." "Thank you. Raoul, can you seal that quiver, please."

"Doing it, Kel." His voice was so close to her ear she could feel his breath, and the quiver tugged at her shoulder as big hands secured the catch. "Can you tell us what's happening? Going to happen?"

"No, but something is. Burning the trebuchet's godwork, using the magic in sunbirds. I think that matters, but not here. And it's only the beginning—the timeway isn't here yet. With the rain."

"If you say so. Alanna?"

"Don't ask me, but I'm not arguing with Kel today. I'm nearly done. Where are her socks and boots, someone?"

"Right. As usual. Where is it we need to be, Kel?"

She knew as soon as she thought about it. "Gatehouse roof." The gatehouse was where Orchan said what most mattered in sieges usually happened and he was right. The box of mageblast keys was in the captain's office below, but that could be rectified.

"Right."

Deft hands dragged socks over her prickling feet and ruthlessly forced on boots that felt too small. Gingerly Kel stood and found Raoul's arm supporting her.

"Alright, Kel?"

She shifted foot to foot. "I think so. They're tender but pain's fading." She frowned. "I didn't feel anything at the time."

"I don't suppose you did." Alanna's eyes seemed very large. "You'll need looking at again later, mind, to check for infection."

"Alright." So long as later came she didn't mind that and found herself hugged crushingly from behind.

"Glorious idiot. Don't ever do that to me again, Kel. Not that you're likely to. Gods!" The last word was louder and one arm extended to point at the window. "Will you look at that?"

The trebuchet was dimming to dull orange and radiant grey, its form intact until something rippled, the counterweight box dropped from the beam and the whole thing slumped in a flaring puff of ash. A cloud drifted away with the wind, thinning into nothing, and only a grey pile remained. She ought to feel triumph but all she could think of was that two giants were in that pile as well as wood and stone, and the image filling her mind was of incandescent figures seen as the treadmill burned; behind it was the image of them trudging round a moment earlier as she'd fired the arrow from a height that made her head spin. She slipped from Raoul's arms, pushing past him to the window.

"Excuse me."

The impossible distance between a god's perspective and a mortal's, the irony in Lord Sakuyo's laughter even when it boomed loudest and in all the great gods' voices, was beyond her, as the void air had been, and the arc of the sunbird's arrow. Raoul's arms caught her as her knees buckled, holding her as the world narrowed to her rippling throat.


	30. Chapter 28

Deliverance

Chapter Twenty-Eight — Deliverance

12 – 14 February

The purgation left Kel feeling every ache and pain, every trembling muscle, and fear she'd been suppressing spurted wildly but didn't matter; she pushed through it, forcing her mind to work. The line of black clouds was closer and though rain might not arrive for an hour yet the blasting gust had been a harbinger: the wind had picked up sharply and every gust whistled and moaned as it met finrock. Raoul and Alanna were looking at her anxiously but she pushed past them to the east window, New Hope and the roadway below. Something she'd seen without registering while running was yammering alarm and a glance down told her what it was, her gut clenching. More than two thirds of the roadway was a dotted line of open pit-traps, blown and useless.

"What happened?"

Alanna came up beside her. "You know a cast smashed into one of the pits?" She remembered what Brodhelm had said an age ago and nodded. "Landed right on it. That perfect bad luck of battle. While we were all talking the Scanrans noticed something odd, and got a party behind heavy shields past the dead giant and far enough up the roadway to see what had happened. The follow-up must have been starting as you came up here, Kel—it was when I got to the gatehouse, wondering where you'd gone. Gissa with squads of shieldmen. We slowed them but couldn't stop her getting to the base of the roadway. The upper third should be intact because Numair was shielding it but she blew the other traps."

"And the bombs?"

"I don't think the Scanrans realised they were there but I don't know if they'll work, Kel. It was a strong magical pulse, and odd—more of that blood magic—so they might have been affected, and I'd assume the moatbridge ones as well. Gissa was about to have another go when everyone started looking up—Scanrans too. I think you might say firing stopped by mutual consent. They withdrew under shields and Gissa took off at a run for the trebuchet. Much good it did her."

Kel managed a shrug but the pit-traps were a bitter loss, and if enough men made it up the roadway to the breach New Hope would fall. Lord Grogar had placed too much faith in the height of his walls and paid dearly for his undermanned parapets. So might she. If the bombs were compromised too all she had left except not enough men on the alures was Diamondflame's gift, which she had hoped desperately not to use; but the timeway was narrowing fast, remaining possibilities wilder, higher. Immortal eyes might see them glimmering with dragonfire.

"How's the breach?"

Alanna wiggled a hand. "Not quite viable. You saw it at dawn? Couple more hits since then took down more outer wall and one went though the inner, half-way up. Unless they can get Gissa to blast through, the main problem is if they get over the stump of the outer wall—it's only five or six feet—they'll have access to the alure."

Raoul nodded. "Or use blazebalm to blow the inner wall and head straight in. I would."

Kel shook her head. "I thought about that. The base is solid rock, not a petrified skin, so they'll need a lot of blazebalm. And we'll need a mage powerful enough to blow barrels before they can be piled up."

The strongest gust yet rattled mesh shields the sentries had shifted to the southern and western windows and Kel's skin prickled. Clouds had blotted away the sun and a towering thunderhead seemed to be heading straight for them. Of course it was—mighty winds, then heavy rain falling straight, Kuriaju had said.

"I need to get to the gatehouse."

Her walk was more of a hobble but as motion warmed her muscles and she let the pain in her feet flow through her and away she walked more easily. Raoul strode beside her, and Alanna followed. A thought struck her. "Ebony, were you relaying your view?"

"Shouldn't? Fun."

Raoul laughed. "Most of it, Kel. Petal was showing Mikal when I took off to come up here. You'll be getting a reception."

"It'll have to wait."

"Will it? Good luck with that."

The fact that the steps connected directly to the inner alure made the luck for her but Uinse's men in the gallery cheered when they saw her and it spread. The daring clapped her on the back or shoulders, and there were civilians cheering on the green; she didn't have the heart to order them back to the caves but arrows would be flying again soon. At the gatehouse Brodhelm's and Uinse's looks were reverential and something juddered inside her.

"Thank Lord Weiryn, not me. What's happening?"

"Oh I'll thank him too, Lady Kel." At least Brodhelm's voice was brisk. "As to what's happening, I'm not sure, but there's been a lot of shouting since you burned that thing, and giants started felling trees."

"To bridge pits." She waved Numair over from the parapet. "If giants lay trees over the pits can you fire them?"

"Maybe, but green wood's hard to burn. I'd have more luck blasting them." He looked down. "I'm sorry about the pits, Kel—Gissa's bloodspells are hard to stop. They flow through the ground."

"How drained are you?"

"More than I'd like. I'm using opals but it takes time to recharge."

"Then don't waste more power against Gissa until she's closer. We'll need you if they gain that breach. The roadway killing field's all but gone save for archery and Diamondflame's gift—and I'm beginning to think the timeway wants that used. We'll see."

"You perceive it?"

"Something doesn't feel like gods, though they're all watching and Lord Sakuyo was with me up there."

"He was?"

She smiled tiredly. "Of course he was. He knows I hate heights. It was much too good a joke to pass up."

"A joke?"

"Oh yes. I told you tricksters were at work. Irony with everything." She wondered what might be happening in the Copper Isles but it wasn't her business. A soldier's voice calling urgently was.

"Giants comin', Cap'n. Carryin' trees."

She saw arrows in the air and was abruptly aware she was unarmoured. Uinse realised too and shielded her as she went to the stairhead, but the arrows were peppering the far end of the alure and north tower—covering the giants' approach.

"Don't waste arrows on giants. Slingwork—bruise them, slow them if you can. I'm going for my armour."

"Right you are, Lady Kel. Harrel, go help with buckling."

She left the godbow in the office, and the quiver, though she didn't think she'd be using it again. The bow, yes, but sunbird fletchings had done their job. Outside, the rattle of arrows landing on stone and slings whistling on the alure had broken up the civilians, most heading back to the caves as she went to headquarters. When Harrel loped ahead to hold the door he plucked up courage.

"That was amazin', Lady Kel."

"If I wasn't scared of heights it wouldn't have been hard, Harrel. The saddle's almost as wide as this path. Everything else was Lord Weiryn's gift."

She left him in her sitting room, ignoring blankets tumbled by the burnt-out fire. A brisk, chilly scrub cleared sweat from her skin; washing her feet was good too, but hurt. Clean, thick socks were better and her armour a comfort; Harrel was efficient, and she thanked him as they left. He peeled away for his duty station while she went to the north tower. The men were too busy there to do anything but use their slings and duck the arrows that came in great waves. They were taking casualties but bellows of giants told of their own hits.

From the tower roof she could see what was happening—a coldly efficient military operation, solid ranks of Scanran archers drawn up behind shields to provide dense, effective cover while the remaining giants lumbered by turns up the roadway to throw down split trunks. They'd thrown both giants' bodies down the glacis; three pits had been bridged and she saw trunks crash down to open the way over the fourth. Harailt was there, behind shields with Mikal, but there was nothing he could try except sheer power, and she didn't want him drained any more than Numair. The fire was heavy and accurate, and she took them all off the roof to the duty captain's office.

"Harailt, can you tell if those giants are being compelled?"

"They are—Gissa's magic but Tolon's working it too, I think."

"Have they all been compelled all along?"

"I don't think the larger ones who attacked were, but the smaller ones with the trebuchet

and bringing trees—yes, I believe so. Why?"

"I was wondering why they were still willing to fight." She frowned. "I didn't see the larger two who survived their attack. Do we know where they are?"

"Um, they were in the trebuchet, Keladry. They'd taken over because smaller ones doing it got sick. Treadmills affect men like that."

"So all the ones left are controlled?"

"Yes. Does it matter?"

"Maybe." Kel was wondering if the larger giants who hadn't needed to be controlled had been Chaos-touched. For the sunbird arrow to have killed the last two such felt like too much coincidence, and might mean divine tidying-up was over; that part of it, anyway. But the coerced troops had withdrawn when they could. "Gissa's the priority."

"She's not been near since she blew the traps, I'm afraid. Still, the rain may slow them— that thunderhead's enormous."

"Yes, rain." Numair always said mages were like cats when it came to getting wet. She ought to be back at the gatehouse. "It's going to come down to the upper roadway and breach, Mikal. I might be wrong but I don't think they'll try the eastern alure, so pull men off to thicken west. And shoot straight down—rotating volley fire while they're low on the roadway. Harailt, shield the volleying archers, not the length of the alures. Volley fire chewing at them matters as much as holding the breach." Mikal nodded. "And make sure the sally force is ready."

She glanced up as she stepped out onto the inner alure and almost stopped. The thunderhead was enormous, towering over the fin, and the whole western sky was black. Thunder boomed and wind gusted brutally, pushing her into a soldier crouched by a merlon. She shouted apology, air snatching at her words, and ran on, ignoring pain in her feet and straightening as she passed out of the zone Scanran archers were targeting. Nearer the gatehouse the air felt still but she could hear gusting and realised she was in the lee of the fin—the gust that had caught her had been an eddy but when the wind was strong enough from the south-west there was a lee of a hundred yards. Uinse joked that on stormy days he could stand bone dry raking down a man ten feet away who was getting intermittently soaked, and a plan flickered in her mind.

The thunderhead was now visible even from the gatehouse roof, and Numair was peering up, whistling. She dragged him to the parapet.

"If there were people down there by the fin, could you keep them still for a minute? Stop them getting more than a few yards?"

He frowned. "Probably, Kel. Depends how far away, and how many."

"Gissa."

"Ah. Just delay her?"

"Pen her in, for I don't know, five seconds, ten."

"Where?"

"I'm hoping it might be, what"—she measured with her eyes—"three hundred yards or

so."

"I couldn't break her shield at that range but keeping her still for a few seconds I can manage."

"Tolon too, if he's there?"

"I'd hope so."

"Good. Get your rainhat."

She fetched her hooded cape, cut to fit over armour, and visited the box of keys, packing the one she wanted carefully into her belt pouch, then decided to take the box anyway. There was a shelf for it inside the stairhead at the roof, and she'd only have to fetch it later; its contents had to be tried, however devalued they might be. Back on the roof Uinse grinned at her attire.

"'Ave you forgotten the lee, Lady Kel? Shouldn't get no more than splatters here with the wind like this."

"We will when it drops, Uinse.'

"Drops? With this storm?"

"I hope so."

"You does, Lady Kel?" He scratched his head. "Alright, then."

She heard him giving orders and his men's surprise but her attention was on the skies. Lightning flashed behind the fin and thunder boomed deafeningly. There were luminous greens like rusty copper in the cloud, and a glance showed her Scanrans scurrying to secure tents and loose gear. The pavilion set up for Maggur not far from where the trebuchet had been had a dozen men piling rocks to hold it down while his standard stood out stiff as a board, and tentflaps cracked. Of the mounded dust that had been the trebuchet there was no sign and she didn't see Maggur or Gissa before the scene blurred as rain at last swept over the fin and the deluge began.

Hailstones were mixed in, rattling against walls not fifty yards away, bouncing from stone and beginning to spot the killing field with white. There were yelps as men huddled under the parapet were caught by strange gusts that could hurl hail in any direction. A few stones swept back to skitter along the gatehouse roof and she picked one up, enjoying the melting cold as she rolled it between tender palms. The curtain of rain hid the north tower and much of the alure, but she could hear water gushing down the glacis. The open pits would be filling, not that it mattered except as a job that would have to be done afterwards; some of the gore would be washed away but the moat didn't bear imagining. She almost shared the thought with Uinse, but he was staring out along the fin and as she turned to him pointed.

"We got company, Lady Kel."

The figures were distant but the second Kel saw them she knew who they were. Maggur and Sven Bjornsson stood with Gissa and Tolon almost in line with her, taking advantage of the lee. Maggur's escort waited at a distance. Bjornsson seemed irate, gesturing, and Maggur too was speaking, but Gissa seemed to shrug and stare at rain and hail hammering the earth. Tolon was silent and from something in his stance Kel had the impression he was as obedient to Gissa as giants and tauroses. She thought for a moment Maggur was looking at her, but turned away without any indication he'd seen her, Bjornsson with him, and the mages moved in the other direction, pacing towards the fin as Tolon ventured some opinion. Lightning flared with simultaneous thunder, striking the end of the fin to blast loose a flake of rock, and the wind reached the gatehouse roof in a stinging gust of hail before dying completely. Sudden quiet lasted

a bare second before rain began drumming on the roof, the impact of water on cape a tangible pressure as everything hazed with spray. Despite his baggy raincoat and hat Numair sounded like a soaked cat and she grabbed his hand, shouting over the noise. "Is Gissa making a rain-shield?"

She thought she could see the glow of magic through the deluge but it was hard to be sure.

Numair concentrated.

"Yes, she is." He sounded as cross as he looked wet. "Anyone sensible would be."

Kel strained her eyes. "Tell me if her shield changes shape—if it becomes just in front of her, not overhead."

"What—"

"Just do it." Her hands were opening her beltpouch inside her cape and taking out the smooth length of wood. It was thick and she'd need to brace it—the stairhead doorway behind her would do, and she stooped to place the key, ignoring heavy drops that smacked her hand, and poised her foot. Numair's indignation was lost in concentration and he glanced at her with lidded eyes.

"She's near the fin, Kel. Moving along it. Going closer. And I've no idea how you knew but yes, her shield's changing. Has changed—a half-dome, less. Weakening too—she must be in shelter."

And there was only one possible shelter out there from rain falling this straight. "Don't let her move. Is she penned?"

For an interminable second he said nothing and then grunted. "Yes."

Kel's foot stamped down, feeling wood give way, and even above the drumming roar of rain she heard the flat, muffled boom as a score of Takemahou-sensei's strongest mageblasts went off high above. She couldn't see through the rain and time seemed to stop as she strained to hear but there was only Numair's harshly indrawn breath as magic flickered around his tense fingers, until everything happened together.

A monstrous crack of sound and air blasted rain into her face, blowing back the hood of her cape. Numair shouted, stumbling back, and the roof slammed into her tender feet, far more strongly than with the trebuchet hits, making her stumble too. She bit her lip against pain and the rain suddenly thinned, the heavy curtain of its trailing edge tracking up valley and allowing alures and north tower to reappear, washed and glinting. She felt Uinse and Brodhelm come up beside her as Numair shook himself and came to her other side, following her gaze.

"Some warning would have been nice, Kel. That thing landed on my magic too. Gave me a jolt, though not as much as Gissa and Tolon."

She'd be sorry later. The new surface of the fin gleamed, sheer and clean as if Yamani steel had done the cutting, and the outcrop had fallen straight as a die, burying itself in the wet ground to half its height. Its weathered and stained surface formed a ramp to nowhere and the grass was ruckled like an unmade bedsheet, mud and earth spattered thickly around. Of Gissa and Tolon there was no sign, and though Kel's stomach was clenched she felt hot triumph swelling in her mind. "They're dead?"

"Oh yes. Squashed very flat indeed. I felt that too."

That she hadn't thought of and touched his arm in apology. "I wasn't sure it would work, and I don't think well magically. Sorry."

"I don't think I shall be complaining, Kel, if you'll tell me how in Shakith's name you did

that."

She looked surprise. "Mageblasts, of course. Takemahou-sensei made and placed them for

me."

"Good for him, but I meant knowing what Gissa would do, Kel."

"Mages don't like getting wet. You always say so."

He opened his mouth and closed it again. "You knew what the weather was going to do."

"Kuriaju told me a story about the Godwars and I thought the timeway was at work. Ask him, but I warn you, the story's in Old Ogric."

"What?"

His indignant astonishment was delightful but Uinse's shout showed her something better.

"The giants, Lady Kel—look!"

The Scanran camp was a mess. Maggur's pavilion was standing, just, half his standard ripped away, but the rest of the tents were a sodden patchwork that wasn't being helped by the surviving giants. All nine were bellowing and shaking heads, hands clutching skulls, trampling tents and at least one man who didn't get out of the way fast enough as they stumbled towards the ford—far too deep and turbulent for men or horses in winter but passable for giants. Once over it they turned north and as their headshaking diminished and their hands dropped their pace picked up and big as they were they began to dwindle fast.

"Alright." Kel wanted to slap her fist into her palm but it would hurt too much and contented herself with a smile that sent Uinse back a pace. "Time for the last act. Uinse, Brodhelm, bowstrings—change every wet one. Restock everything. And get everyone hot food and drink. All reserves ready. Ebony, stage two alert for the sally force."

Uinse was nodding, Brodhelm staring. "You think they'll come now, Lady Kel? After all you've done to them already today?"

"They have to. Trebuchet, conscripts, coerced, mages, and giants are gone, and everything they've got is soaking. Those men up the valley won't help them until they take New Hope."

"An' cornered animals is dangerous, Brod'elm. Lady Kel's right—they got no choice. They'll come with everythin' they got. But I'm thinkin', Lady Kel, we only got to break 'em once. Turn 'em and they won't come again, not even for King Maggot."

The Scanrans did come—coldly and professionally, knowing their strength and opportunity. The first sign was trios of men running over the moatbridge to lie on the glacis—two shieldmen and a crossbowman. Two teams targeted each crenel, and under their covering fire, supported by archers beyond the moat, larger teams with shieldmen carried more split trees to bridge the open pits that remained.

At such short range crossbow bolts were assassination weapons and after the fourth body was carried from the alure Kel reduced counterfire to a random scatter, sufficient to keep them needing shieldmen but no more. She could not afford to expend ten or fifteen arrows in hope of a fleshwound or to lose capable archers, and had to watch as the last pits were covered. The topmost three that had been blown were in range from the gallery, and the unexpected angle gained a scatter of kills and two trunks skidded and spun into the moat. But the response was immediate, additional shieldmen lined obliquely across the roadway, interlocking with those protecting the carrying teams, and work continued. With the blown pits covered there was argument about the rest of the roadway, unblown pits clearly suspected. Watching with her from the gallery Wyldon grunted sourly.

"They're no fools."

"No. It'll be a while yet."

Most of her people had thought the assault proper would now begin but Maggur—or Bjornsson—was cannier. Pairs of men began running up the roadway, hugging its inner wall and carrying two shields. Nearing the top the front man angled one to block any fire from the gallery, and both would then try to get to the gatehouse or the base of the inner wall to press themselves against it. Teams on the glacis gave them cover on the roadway but they were more vulnerable to fire from the gallery as they raced for the turn or tried to scramble up the glacis, and once they'd reached gates or wall. Kel brought master archers from the alures to play their own game of waiting patiently with nocked arrows for a glimpse past a shield that wavered aside or dropped an inch too far—and they were taking men down. Roadway and glacis had a thick scatter of bodies but the number of men reaching the walls was rising steadily. Leaning out to shoot down was a death sentence from the crossbowmen, and they knew about the rocknets, clustering beneath merlons that no longer had them, and slashing with spears to empty those still in place. Twice a man was swept away, unable to jump back fast enough when stones fell, but one by one merlons 2 to 5 were cleared, she'd used 6 and 7 against the giants, and 8, 9, and 10 had gone in the bombardment that had smashed the breach. Heavy stones and spidren nets had the best success slowing the Scanrans, and pots of urine heated to pungent boiling by basilisks; a dozen men were smashed away or exposed themselves as they were tangled or scalded, but ranks closed up swiftly with new arrivals.

There were crossbows among them and the gallery began taking fire. The Scanrans were trying to get bolts through a window at an oblique angle and long range, but they were good and sometimes lucky. Two archers were killed and a third owed his life to Alanna when a bolt ripped his neck and her magic sealed the wound in time. Kel took shots with the godbow from the steps up to the Eyrie, beyond crossbow range, with bloody success, but had to retreat when archers advanced along the moat, and a volley rattled on stone behind her as she ducked back into the gallery. The one good thing was that the breach wasn't easily viable, yet. To stand in it was to expose head and shoulders to fire from the inner alure, which the crossbowmen couldn't scour because the outer wall shielded it. When the Scanrans reached the gap ripped in the wall they tried, several times, but no man made it far enough even to fall beyond the stump of the palisade and they gave up, waiting until they had the numbers to do the job. Occasional potshots at the inner alure did continue, and some found marks. A cracked section at the top of the stump was pulled loose to clatter down the glacis, reducing it to less than five feet across more than half its width, and extra trios of shield-and -crossbowmen came scuttling up to lie amid corpses, targeting the inner alure. The breach wasn't wide enough to allow men through it even so, but they inflicted casualties as men on the inner alure had to adjust to the new threat.

It was a calculated game of numbers. Maggur and Bjornsson had expected to use men they didn't care about to clear their way to a more viable breach, but with bombs, pits, and rocknets gone, and experienced troops fired by necessity to make the assault, they thought they could

overwhelm by sheer guts and numbers. The men coming up the roadway in pairs were not worth expending any remaining traps on, but the force building below gate and walls, now at least one-hundred-and-fifty strong, was a dire threat, for when a real charge did start they would at best divert defensive fire, allowing more charging men to make it through, and at worst secure the breach, shielding men coming through it to scramble for the outer alure and laying down suppressing fire at the inner. And once into the killing field she doubted they'd bother trying for the bridge; their target would be the gatehouse by escalade or the inner wall by blazebalm or other blasting.

Her job was to kill as many of them as fast as possible when they came, and as the numbers crowded against gates and wall grew towards their limit she gave her final orders. Alanna was more use as mage than archer, and went to join Numair and Harailt providing shields for squads who would fire by rotation. Nothing was happening to the east and she left only the barest skeleton watch, reinforcing outer and inner west. After a brief darking conversation with Dom most veterans and half the oddment squads posted to the corral came as well, and she called civilians glaive squads to block any Scanrans who did make it to the inner alure and thought to try for the bridge.

Of nine hundred plus men she'd started with more than a hundred had been killed and as many again sufficiently badly injured to be out of action—but hideous as the coffin pile was she didn't think the Scanrans had weakened her enough. She'd forced Maggur's hand, and his loyalists had to face a more robust defence than they'd hoped for; if you didn't like the odds you had to change them and they'd done their best to whittle New Hope down, but she hadn't allowed them time to halve the defence. Even so, six hundred defenders on the western alures were going to be pushed hard; as soon as any who weren't magically shielded stood to begin firing they'd start to fall, and any exchange of casualties worse than four for one would see the Scanrans inside. She cogitated and decided, and if the wounded could stand and shoot, even for ten minutes, they came from infirmary pallets and bedrolls to add what weight of shot they could.

Mikal held the keys to the remaining western rocknets, which had never been intended to protect the roadway but would pepper it all the same, especially if they went off together, and more urine and water were heating. Small barrels of blazebalm were set ready on the gatehouse roof, and more lowered to men who'd drawn the difficult duty of manning the section of outer alure between gatehouse and breach, and been stuck there. The basilisks waited on the shelf, where rock spells would be of most use in holding any breach in the inner wall, and where they could reach its alure swiftly if the outer fell and use of the spell became possible without petrifying defenders. Finally, as Kel saw troops in the fields beyond the moatbridge begin to form column she relayed to Dom the last stage of the sally alert, beyond which was only the order that would send men running for saddled horses.

She studied the forming column carefully. There were maybe a thousand archers, and counting crossbow- and shieldmen more than five hundred involved in the penetration up the roadway, of whom nearly two hundred were already under the walls—which left a thousand plus who weren't yet in action. Some were Maggur's close squad, and she'd looked earlier at the men with him and Bjornsson in front of his lopsided pavilion and sheared standard, but also seen what other men were doing—including a group of several hundred who'd clustered for a while around a shaman and begun drinking from stone jugs. Some painted their faces or braided one another's hair, and a few slashed their chests with knives, shouting and stamping. They'd pulled on totemic clothing, bear pelts and wolfskins, seeking possession by the animal gods—beserkir who could have a limb hewn away and still roar on; men whose job it was to force the breach. It was as primitive a tactic as there was, and in many circumstances didn't work at all. Kel had a clear image in her mind of a beserkr she'd killed at Forgotten Well, and knew a frothing mouth and entranced indifference to pain was no match for a needlepoint in the eye. Any well-equipped soldier could take one down at distance, and against intact defences they were only another wave that would

break, but for a breach they were perfect and she needed to know where in the column they were. Some had come to the front, beginning to jostle and shove as they waited for the charge to begin, but most were further back, the column's core, and that was interesting.

It was as ruthless a decision as everything about this assault, and in a strange way a professional compliment, calculating that most men in front of that core would perish—but also thin and tire defenders so the fresh wave of beserkir would come as a hammerblow. It meant the troops to go before them had to be drawn from those firing volleys and they were beginning to thin as men were called to take places in the column. And that meant her own archers would be more effective, fire less suppressed and kill rate higher, which was what she needed. She added an order to the capable mages, that as soon as the charge began, and before they began shielding archer squads, they should blast any crossbow-and -shieldmen trios they could reach and create any impediment they could for archers beyond the moat—light, smoke, distortion. Alanna and Numair would have done so anyway, and would have primed Harailt—but better safe than sorry, and only just in time for with a roaring shout the column began to move.

Balls of purple, red, and glittering black magic slammed into shields covering crossbowmen, sending them flying with the men beneath, and fog began to rise from the moat. Kel thought there was also a purple haze in the air and already Scanran arrows were going astray, arcing to fall harmlessly on the main level or falling short to clatter on wall and glacis, but she had no time to watch. These were fit soldiers sprinting for their lives, not half-baked traitors' inexperienced liege-troops and hirelings, and they were already thundering over the third bridged pit. Mikal's men started rotating volley fire above the base of the roadway, and Kel could see magical shields working as Scanran fire was deflected; every one of their arrows was aimed and they had a solid mass of backs and necks to target. Already the column was developing a standing ripple, like a river over stone, where men trod on the fallen, and turbulence was spreading. Volley fire from the middle crenels was beginning to affect the head of the column, where the frothing wave of beserkir ran, careless of who fell. Most carried axes and were shouting warcries and defiance, as the giants had bellowed; her hearing seemed to have retreated to a distant rumble of sound as her hands lifted the second dowel of bomb keys and the few individual keys from the box before her. How effective they would be she'd no idea and the necessary sequence was a pattern dance in her mind as time narrowed, like the fin, to a saddle she had to traverse and from which Maggur must fall.

The faces of the foremost beserkir were before her, braided hair and blond beards whipped back as they ran, contorted with the spirits they'd drunk and imagined, and as they passed Bargy her hand snapped the individual keys, then the dowel, dropped it, and reached for the other as her eyes shut against the glare. This close it was intense but far briefer than when she'd faced the traitors, and as it faded and her eyes opened she saw only five bombs had survived Gissa's magic. But they had done their job very effectively because the Scanrans were tightly bunched; gaps had been torn in the column and burning things tumbled in air, but it wasn't stopping and survivors had more room, accelerating to catch those in front. At the head of the roadway coverage had been best, with adjacent blasts, and volley fire from the alures was cutting into survivors isolated between blast zones, but those gaps were closing too and beserkir were already approaching Horny, where the highest remaining bomb was. She waited until they reached it and her hand snapped down again.

Only three bombs exploded this time but the front of the column was again shattered. Men near the breach were engaged with Scanrans beneath the walls who were firing at anything that showed, but men in the middle of the alure concentrated on surviving clumps of runners left by the bombs, and the beserkir at the front were gone. But still the charging column did not stop, the great core of beserkir almost half-way up the roadway driving men in front on, and her hands reached for the next mageblast keys to try, pitkeys—thick, flat rods a little longer than a finger to provide leverage. Most were useless now, but any unblown pits might work and there were eleven

to try. Her hands lined them up on the sill in front of her, unerring, and she didn't even look at the roadway as she leaned a hand on the first to hold it and snapped down before moving on to the next. Crack! Crack! Crack! She'd broken seven without any result and knew there were men passing Dimwit, only seconds from the turn, but with the eighth she heard or felt a thump that had to be mageblasts, and before the different screaming began her hands had dived ahead to the last, working backwards down the three remaining. As the heard-felt thumps came and screams cut through howling rage she forced her head up and looked at the new horror she'd made.

Anyone who'd been standing on a pit was dead, fallen onto obsidian spikes, but you could have called them lucky. The momentum of the charge was driving on men between pits and no-one could stop. She'd known what was needed and the pits were deep, the spikes long, and more men were falling and dying, covering the spikes and filling the pits body by body. Volley fire was chewing at them as well, but Kel could see men seizing anyone hit in front of them to drag and cast forward, using them to help fill the pits. Below the first newly open pit the beserkir core had driven so many men before it that when they came to it themselves they could charge on as if it weren't there, feet hammering into the dead and dying, and at the second the frontrunners didn't even hesitate, hurling themselves forward, falling short, and vanishing as others landed on them and a mound built to which yet others could leap and leap again, clearing the further side of the pit. Kel could hear in the shouts around her that people could not believe what they were seeing, but Yamani troops would do the same if their emperor demanded it, and wouldn't have to drug themselves to do it. There was no thought in the men dying before her—that had been done beforehand and their world had narrowed to going forward until New Hope fell, the timeway narrowing with them into the purity of living or dying, and the next step to be taken anyway, as relentlessly as all the ones before.

The seconds or minutes it took for the dead to bridge the pits were interminable. She already held the warm, rough dragonscale and knew Wyldon to her left had glanced at it between arrowshots picking off men clustering around the breach; she didn't know it was the terrible look on her face and the misery radiating from her that had caught his attention, not the thing in her hand, but if she had she'd have shrugged. Gifts were given to be used and Lord Diamondflame did not give idly, though he would never stand before the judges she'd face. No matter. The Black God's mercy was infinite, and he too did not give gifts without good cause and a weeping heart.

"Cover your eyes."

Wyldon was staring at her when the leading beserkir reached the end of the uppermost pit, below Flatnose, and surged forward screaming; her hands met clasping dragonscale, tightening; he reached Chargy and they flexed. Snap, snap, no slower, and dragonfire that could burn even gods to the bone seared the world white. Orange-red blazebalm burned men slowly; only the magebasts driving it had made it so swift. The sunbird arrow had invested the trebuchet with deep red fire that had no flame and consumed until only ash remained. Dragonfire vaporised men into glowing white clouds that spun and dissipated in the wind and air being pushed ahead of the frothing screaming men still running towards her below Pizzle. Nor did it give them time to scream—they just flared and vanished, like guttered candleflame, but there were ugly noises as surviving Scanrans breathed incandescent air and fell, fire erupting from mouths as boots slammed into backs. And still the column came, the destruction of its van so swift that no-one more than a rank or two behind the foremost survivors understood what had happened.

Snap, snap.

"All gods, Keladry, what is that?"

"Dragonfire. Lord Diamondflame's gift to the timeway's memory of the first skullroad. The gods killed kits in rage and now the dragons save our children."

He made no reply but she felt the timeway squeeze her, as she squeezed the dragonscale. Perhaps she'd snap too, but seven dragons had died and must be remembered. Cinders, Yolky, Flinders, Croaky, Parcel, Morsel, and Runt. Snap, snap. Snap, snap. Snap, snap. Five left Morsel and Runt. The stones of the roadway were red-hot and the air crackling, whistling past, drawn to burn as moths were, and a great ball of black cloud shot through with lightning and writhing with lines of flaring light was rising above the skullroad. Ctheorth Yr, the firebow, and for the first time running men faltered. The last ranks of beserkir charged on but soldiers behind them, pulled from arching and weary before they started running, slowed and a gap opened.

"Ebony, final sally alert. Wyldon, time to go."

She ran along the gallery to the alure, Wyldon pounding behind, and glanced down. The leading beserkir were level with Horny, hair and beards burning, and the last ten yards below Pizzle. Snap, snap. That was six, and below those last men there had been a gap of fifty feet.

"Hit that column head now . Arrows, slings, everything. Mikal, rocknets." Stones bouncing down forty feet and more hurt and Ebony would relay the order. "Turn them, they're breaking, hit them now."

Then she was in the guardhouse, descending stairs and when she reached the bottom enough time had passed. Snap, snap. Runt could rest in peace; her hands wrestled the dragonscale into her belt pouch and the path was before her, men clattering down from alures and others ahead of her, going as fast as they could across the green. Someone in the three hundred who'd been in the skeleton watch on the eastern wall was running along the terrace and she hurled a prayer at the shrines, not for forgiveness or survival, though she craved both, but the gods' collective acceptance of the path she hunted towards Shakith's moment.

The cave air was cool on her face and the main chamber crowded with people, the King and Vanget among them, drat their disobedience. No-one spoke but it was a massed salute all the same, silently offered and received as she followed some man's flying heels into the tunnel— Pedrintor, from Mikal's Fourteenth, very good with a lance for a footsoldier; he'd grown up with horses, towards the Gallan border, and was sweet on a Goatstrack girl who wasn't sure if she liked him enough but was willing to find out if she might. Kel's feet boomed on the bridge, and had to slow for the square and zig-zags, like horses, and at last daylight was growing before her.

It was no good running full tilt at warhorses; men who'd been on outer west would be behind her anyway. As she came into the corral, rounding the stableblock, she slowed and Wyldon caught up. The horses waited in pairs along the line of the wall, second and third arcs inside that, and civilians held weapons riders would need; men were already finding their animals, positions corresponding to number in the list of three hundred that had as far as possible been updated as deaths thinned choices. At the front of the outermost arc, by the gateway to the killing field, Alder was in full barding, Peachblossom and Hoshi beside him like sergeant-majors at a drill. Jump was there, tongue lolling, and she didn't doubt Nari but could spare no time to look because Tobe was holding her glaive with the rest of her armour at his feet and she needed to hug him for one long second.

Rising with a cuisse in hand she held it while he deftly buckled it, and the other, and greaves and sabatons. She mounted, and he handed up her glaive to slide into its holder, then her lance. Wyldon was mounted beside her, lance in hand, and Raoul being armoured. She could see Brodhelm, Seaver, Prosper, Voelden, Ennor, Terres, Varlan, Pedrintor, Imrah shouting to her the picket force had vanished when the assault began, Macayhill; Wolset and men she'd once seen hogtie a killing device from horseback at a speed Runnerspring hadn't believed possible; scores of faces she knew, her people and men she'd begged, borrowed, and stolen, here to pull down the monster who ate children at long last. Only Alanna was missing and came running breathlessly up

with the last men from outer west. Tobe and a man from her company were waiting to armour her and she panted words.

"Too old for this … thought that tunnel'd … never end. Gods. … Waited to … see 'em break. … And they did, Kel … they're falling back. Spilling … into the field. Maybe a thousand left."

"And two score unbloodied round Maggur. The rest will fight while he lives, but if he falls they'll surrender."

"Gods, yes. I'm not even sure they'll fight for Maggur any more. What was that, Kel? Dragonfire?"

"Yes. All the immortals have acted now. Only stormwings remain."

"I've been wondering where they'd got to, Kel." Raoul was mounted on Drum. "I'm astonished they haven't been at work yet."

"They've been feeding higher up." Kel gestured, noticing the sun breaking through up valley, fitful but welcome. "And they need my leave to slay any living thing or play with any dead one in this valley."

He didn't reply though his glance at Alanna as she mounted was eloquent and she'd recovered enough to cackle, the sound rising above the noise to silence men.

"Don't ask me, Raoul. You and Wyldon trained her. Mine's back in the infirmary. Goddess knows what you'll make of Alan."

Wyldon was laughing and Raoul drawing breath to expostulate, and something in Kel flared at Alanna's use of a bare name because the improbable was beginning to flicker into existence and it had to be pursued into a new reality for her people. The only men not mounted were in the inner arcs and they'd have time, so she pulled on her helmet, visor up, and turned her head to catch Dom's eye on the gatehouse roof. He looked back with a smile that blessed and loved her as his arm chopped down and she heard the rumble as the portcullis rose. Alder was in motion and they passed into the killing field. His hooves thundered on the drawbridge and met turf again and he veered left and straightened along the sough draining the moat.

"Fun! "

Ebony's squeak was joyful, and she had a choice of ironies, a vista of contrasts, and would not parade her guilt to the timeway.

"Oh yes, little one. Fun and to spare, joy and justice both. And even the dead blessed beyond suffering. All the dead. You tell everyone."

Hey eyes were scanning ahead but as Imrah said there was no sign of the picket save a deserted bivouac, tents and a picketed pony who raised his head to stare at the column uncoiling across the field. Wyldon, Alanna, and Raoul spread out in line with her, holding all behind them to the odd trot of laden warhorses advancing to a charge, and the pony dropped its head in a submissive posture as they swept by. The wide culvert over the sough let them turn in line and as they rounded the fin the missing picket could be seen fifty yards ahead, backs turned, staring at whatever was happening on the roadway. The great flake of stone chipped from the fin by lightning was stuck in the ground, and beyond the Greenwoods centaurs were cantering towards the stonebridge, Whitelist leading; the noise of their hooves on the span brought the pickets' heads snapping round, far too late. Her fist pumped to call the canter and her lance dropped smoothly

into position.

She didn't bother to lower her visor as her lance point ripped through a man's throat and drove into the back of the next just enough before she twitched it back to let him fall. How many of the picket survived she didn't know and it didn't matter—the field opened before her and she turned, drawing a line on the lopsided pavilion and the knot of men before it, gazing at New Hope. She spared one glance, taking in hundreds of men scattering from the emptying roadway, where arrows flayed the fleeing. Wyldon and Alanna were keeping pace but it mattered more that centaurs were already going to a gallop, surging along the Tortallan flank and beginning to fire as centaurs could, arrows arcing to fall among the nearest men retreating from New Hope.

Kel's fist pumped again and she reached to flick her visor down as the charge began. Air flowed through the slot, cool and damp with the reek of battle, and she settled over her lance, feeling its balance and knowing her own. Centaur arrows flew overhead, a tunnel down which she charged, Alder's hooves spattering mud and thunder drumming in her ears. A tendril that must be Ebony extended into the corner of her eye, and she knew all would be seeing as Alder reached the first collapsed tents and went straight over them. There was a man hurling himself forward and her lance took him cleanly, punching through breastplate and spine; she'd not free it from that and let it go as the shock of impact slapped her hand, reaching for her glaive and letting it sweep into the wide position she preferred.

Behind her men were spreading to meet Scanrans turning retreat into attack, but she was in a lane between rows of tents and brought Alder round to charge down it. Drum was on her left and Raoul still had his lance; Wyldon and Alanna were behind but she could see their shadows because the sun had reached them and Maggur's pavilion was shining, broken standard glittering. The lane ran in front of it but would be the quickest way, and men who'd been in front of it were now mounted, and didn't bother with any clearway but spurred over tents, crushing whatever stood to reach the lane a hundred yards in front of her. They hadn't had time to arm properly and she could see a breastplate hanging askew, a vambrace flapping; all had only bascinets, and the leading man was Bjornsson, standing in his saddle, axe in one hand and sword in the other, steel flaring light. Raoul's lance slipped into her vision, in the difficult open position that couldn't be used against anyone else with a lance and took great strength, and she forgot Bjornsson to focus on the man to his right, seeing Wyldon's lance swing to the man beyond.

In the split second before she had to strike she was aware of Bjornsson lifted from his saddle but her glaive was twisting to take a man under the short breastplate that was all he had. She felt its tip nick his spine and the world contracted to the man now before her as Alder's greater speed and weight, boosted by barding, slammed the gutted man's horse aside. A lunge took his neck and the scything swing into which it could flow severed an arm before the axe it held could come down. Men and horses were screaming, speed bleeding away as the mêlée developed, but there'd only been a score of Scanrans and she'd punched through; her knees drove Alder forward, and shadows told her Wyldon and Raoul were with her as she came to the trampled path the Scanrans had left. She turned up it, seeing the crooked pavilion and men spreading out to deny her their master beyond, and drove Alder forward again, hooves thundering. The man to the right was left-handed and moving to dodge Wyldon behind her, his misjudgement as her glaive swept out to decapitate him and spear another's face, jerking as it cut bone. Beyond him a man was backing away, mouth wide and sword uselessly skyward as Alder dipped to punch him aside, and she was through. Maggur stood before his pavilion, sword gleaming in sunlight.

Alder slowed as he felt her weight shift and by the time her leg was over the saddle he was trotting just fast enough to give her impetus she could control. Her outstretched foot hit the ground, sabaton sinking in as she came over the standing leg and lunged, glaive flashing faster than thought to slice across Maggur's hand. His sword fell from nerveless fingers and before it hit

the ground her glaive was at his throat, flicking away to rap his shoulder, driving him to his knees, and back to open a flap along his jaw and rest at his neck as blood bloomed. Numair was far away but Lord Sakuyo had a way with loud noises too, so she cast her prayer into the sky and drew breath. Silver fire gripped her throat and there was laughter, hawks screaming among battlecries. Her eyes never left Maggur's.

"HOLD! HOLD!"

She spoke in Common and her voice cracked across the field like thunder, echoing from glacis and crags, and when the sound faded there was stillness. It wasn't quiet. Horses snorted and whinnied, and the harsh labour of breath rose and fell like the sea, but arrowfire and swordplay stopped. She spoke in Tortallan before switching to Scanran.

"New Hope, hold fire, strike no man. Men of Scanra, Maggur Reidarsson falls. Combat ceases. Clanchiefs and chiefsmen bound by blódbeallár, come. Your oaths are void. Your betrayer falls. Let fall your axes and stand witness."

Gods but Maggur didn't lack courage. Blood pulsing from his jaw he drew himself up and her glaive followed his throat. When he spoke his own voice boomed for all to hear, even coerced a mile up the valley, and he didn't flinch as sound tore from his mouth.

"Betrayer? No. I have done much, but I betrayed none."

Rage made sunlight scarlet but her voice was cold and measured, reaching just as far and farther. "You sold your liegers' children to a nicor, Maggur Reidarsson, and your nation piecemeal to the gods."

He didn't understand, even with the thousand souls he'd made her send to the Black God today, and shrugged, ignoring the glaive that jabbed his throat through the close beard.

"Blayce was necessary. I grant him vile, but the children were necessary too. His necromancy could not control adults souls."

"Blayce was vile and I do not grant him necessary. Nor do the gods, or the dragons. You sold children in your care to a nicor and for that you die, that children may live."

"It was necessary."

"It was wrong, and the timeway has turned."

Again he didn't understand the plain truth of it, and fell silent though his breathing and her own continued to rasp over the field and men moving on it. She dared not take her eyes from his while he stared but his gaze dropped and she saw muscles slump, forcing her to drop the glaive a fraction to keep it against his skin. He was waiting, and she risked a glance to her side, seeing Raoul with sword in hand and many men beyond him. She prayed, feeling silver fire withdraw, hovering somewhere, and risked the question, finding her voice again her own.

"What's happening, Raoul?"

"Coerced men coming, Kel. Leaders, anyway, standards high. Everyone's off the roadway and men are closing in but their weapons are sheathed. We're outnumbered but it's the truce you ordered."

"Honour those clanchiefs and chiefsmen when they arrive. Are there loyalist officers standing?"

"None above sergeant, I think. Bjornsson's dead and everyone who rode against us. We need healers."

Silver flowed back and her voice boomed again, in Common so the Scanrans would understand. "Healers to the field. Whatever passes, none will strike until the injured are tended. Healers to the field." She waited for the flush of power to withdraw. "Who's injured?"

"Alanna and Wyldon both need healing and she's too woozy to do it. Others too, some critical."

They'd be familiar names and faces but she didn't want to know yet who was dead. Except for one special case. "Genlith?"

"Macayhill lanced him."

So his blood at least wasn't on her hands. "Ebony, make sure the King knows."

"Telling."

Maggur looked up again, eyes widening. "A darking? Gissa said they'd all gone to the Dragonlands."

"They're back. So are dragons."

"That was illusion!"

"It's fire wasn't." Her glaive didn't waiver as she contemplated his baffled frown.

"Kel, the clanchiefs are here, and centaurs are coming too."

"Healers?"

"Baird's just left the corral. Neal's with him and others."

"Deal with them, please. We need one rank of witnesses ourselves—whoever's senior and standing. The rest should make way for Scanrans and centaurs. And whoever else comes."

"On it, Kel. Imrah, did you hear? Get …"

His voice faded as he turned away but she heard movement and was aware of a crowd ringing her, swirling as people arrived and were made way for or increased inward pressure. There was sweat on Maggur's forehead and a vein pulsing at his temple; her heart was booming and her arm aching, but her hand was steady.

"A king dies as well as a man, Maggur Reidarsson. Is there aught you would say or do for your people before the end?"

"For my people? There are none left who matter." "Wrong again, your last mistake the same as your first."

Raoul returned. "Healers are here, Kel. Wyldon's on his feet and Alanna's sitting up, cursing axes. What's the plan?"

"Blódbeallár. I kill him and it's done. They'll withdraw."

"Um, I think there's a complication, Kel. The chiefsmen are saying they need to find out

about the hostages."

Maggur wheezed a laugh. "I bet they are. Legal fools. If you're going to kill me, woman, get on with it. I've nothing to say to them, or you. Ngh!"

Kel pivoted, changing grip on the glaive so she could stand beside him with its blade at the same point on his throat, fresh blood trickling where it had twisted in place. She no longer had to keep eyes on him because with her glaive across both hands the pressure keeping its tip to his throat told her exactly how he moved, and she let her vision widen. She stood on one side of a square, Tortallans and centaurs flanking her, Scanrans packing the other sides—to her right loyalists who'd been on the roadway, shock in their eyes, and elsewhere cleaner, straighter men, armoured but unarmed, clan standards above them in the westering sun. She prayed, and the silver tingle returned.

"Clanchiefs and chiefsmen of Scanra, who speaks for you?"

After fierce glances a man stepped forward, a standard bearer with him. He wasn't the biggest but walked like a fighter to avoid with a burning look in his eyes. He spoke in Common.

"I speak for Scanra. Stenmun Gunnarsson, Clan Somalkt. You are the Protector of the Small?"

Kel nodded. "I am, Stenmun Gunnarsson of Clan Somalkt, and I have heard of the Bloody Plains. Maggur Reidarsson falls to my glaive, as his clanhome and beserkir fell to my fire. Blódbeallár is complete, and the oaths you and all men have sworn to Maggur are void. What will you do?"

"If you let us we will depart, but we would know of Maggur where he holds our kin hostage."

"You don't know?"

Kel's surprise was genuine and Maggur wheezed his laugh. "My men hold them fast and secret and news of my death will see throats cut."

"Their deaths avail you nothing, Maggur." Gunnarsson's voice had risen. "Will you drag all Scanra into death and chaos with you?"

"I will, Stenmun, and rejoice. I should have burned Somalkt, not watered its dusty earth."

"No, Maggur Reidarsson, you will not." The last piece clicked in Kel's mind as she saw a shadow flit across the ground, and she raised her voice, feeling air crack again as her call echoed from the fin and rolled downvalley. "I call the Stone Wing Nation. Come, feed on a king."

Maggur's exclamation was drowned in chopping wingbeats as stormwings gathered. To Kel the silence was intense when they shifted into glides, spiralling into her vision already committed to landing. Scanrans were pushing back men behind them, the sides of the square breaking. Fear and terror washing ahead of the stormwings lapped around Kel like tide against a rock but she saw Maggur twitch and Stenmun was ducking away, face contorted.

"Hold! They come in justice, not war. Hold and witness."

Her voice compelled but the ragged oval into which Barzha and Hebakh glided ahead of their nation was a lot bigger than the square had been. Cloestra and Amourta were among them, and feathers blazed as wings cupped them to their usual awkward landings, steel claws scoring turf to slow ungainly trots, but no-one was jeering as soldiers often did at the sight. Barzha hopped

to within a dozen paces of where she stood by Maggur, cocking her head in enquiry that became real as Kel took one hand from the glaive, stabbing it upwards on a bearing that her muscles knew though her mind didn't, and brought it down again to point to the ground at her side. Stenmun and other clanchiefs looked bewildered as silence stretched before a ringing cry preceded a tawny-orange shape that bounced to a skidding halt before trotting to her side and booting at her greave. It was only hours since she'd seen Junior as she flew along the fin and it felt like months. Barzha nodded.

"Protector?" Her voice was silky, and Kel saw men shudder.

"Your Majesty, this man sold children to be raped and slain, and would die with a secret untold, slaying more of his people's young. Will you of your grace persuade him otherwise and usher him hence?"

Every stormwing gave cackling shrieks that rang from the cliffs, and Kel saw Amourta bating excitement as her teeth glinted. Only Barzha and Hebakh were still and the queen's smile was wide and deadly.

"Gladly, Protector. Yet if you stand with him at the focus we cannot shield you wholly from what he will feel."

"Then so it must be, for my glaive will not leave his throat until he speaks what his people would know. In the presence of a griffin, Maggur Reidarsson, you can speak no lie. So Freja Haraldsdottir found, and the truth I demand as the price of your release to the Black God is where you hold your hostages."

His eyes were defiant and terrible but already stormwings were shuffling closer, heads swaying, crooning as they had for Amourta's hatching but in a different register, saw -tooth notes that buzzed in Kel's gut and spine. Junior didn't seem bothered, looking curiously at approaching immortals and white-faced men beyond, but she could feel fears hammering at her and Maggur lacked whatever protection she was getting. It was the same as the elemental's technique but with every secret fear rising at once. Though she knew it was only imagination she saw the beserkir raging through breached walls, and felt New Hope dying around her, Tobe and Irnai trampled, Neal and Yuki gutted, Ryokel's cut-off wail, her people and friends and father, her king caught stupidly in the open, all hacked down, Dom unable to flee on his twisting, useless leg. Mindelan smoked in ruin and animals were dying too, hyenas cracking horse bones in jaws that could break stone, and a tauros roared, dragonfire blasting from flat nostrils to set the earth into incandescent blaze. All became ash and blew away, infinite gulfs and voids opening around her and her balance fled as if she swayed above them, but her feet hurt, Junior's wounds pulsing, and she could feel them on the earth, like the pressure on the glaive in her hands as Maggur writhed. Her face was beaded with sweat, her stomach roiling, but she knew where she stood and why, and Maggur no longer even knew that he knelt. His face and body were in rictus, lips drawn back in what had been a snarl and was fading into a wail. His eyes rolled wildly and the stench told her he had voided himself. He began to slump and she withdrew her glaive to stop him skewering himself but silvered magic leaped from Barzha and he did not fall. A flapping hop took her to his side, extended wings flashing sunlight into his eyes, making him cry out wordlessly; her voice was water trickling past that deadly, saw-tooth croon rising from every stormwing, clustered wing to wing.

"Where do you hold them?"

"Ættrengar."

The word was a shriek but Kel heard it clearly. Her eyes met Stenmun Gunnarsson's, wide in a sweating face, and he nodded.

"We know it. It is enough."

Kel's fears fell away like old skin as beating pressure eased and she nodded serenely to Barzha, whose extended wing slashed forward, rippling sunlight, and spun Maggur's head impossibly high into the air. Movement became a spring, wings beating as she launched herself after it. Other stormwings were lumbering skyward, little Amourta quickest, rising above them, but Kel eye's were on the spinning, falling head as it passed the top of its towering arc and tumbled to its inevitable meeting with the steel claw that flashed to pluck it from air, and swing it high into another soaring climb. Stormwing cackles exploded as they surged after it. There was no blood spilling from it and Kel's eyes dropped to the kneeling torso, which had rocked back onto its heels, arms flaccid, and she saw it had not bled either. The neck stump was seared black, a single steel feather embedded in it, and no-one knew whether to stare at it or watch the stormwings dancing away towards Haven and Spidren Wood beyond, and the black dot that rose and fell above them.

"The stormwings play above the Greenwoods, and this war is ended." Junior's cry rang, affirming truth that echoed from the cliffs. "Stenmun Gunnarsson, nor you nor any Scanran has a king. If I say, take men and supplies you need and ride for Ættrengar, will all Scanrans keep peace until you return?"

She saw silver fire sparkle on his lips and shock piled on shock in his eyes, but the voice that rang across the field was firm and clear.

"Yes, Protector. If enough may ride with your blessing to save our kin, all will hold the truce of the blódbeallár until we return."

"Then choose who you need, appoint a man to speak in your stead, and send orders to those elsewhere to withdraw. How long will it be before you return?"

"Ættrengar is a week's ride north of Hamrkeng."

And Hamrkeng was two weeks away. Six weeks would be the end of March, and Stenmun would have more to do than secure hostages.

"Then return by Beltane, and come with whom you must to end this war and prevent the next by gods' oath and solemn treaty."

"I will."

His hands crossed over his heart, fists clenched, and Junior cried again at truth. A sigh like summer wind rippled through Scanran ranks, and arms clashed on chests as they echoed his gesture. Kel heard Tortallans sigh too as they absorbed an end to hostilities, feeling the blódbeallár truce grip the field, and wondered what in the mortal realms she was supposed to do next.

In the event, so far as Kel was concerned, deepening dusk and neverending evening became entirely surreal. It wasn't long before Stenmun—why did he have to share that name?—came to tell her who rode with him—one chiefsman and a dozen warriors from each coerced clan—and name his deputy, Harald Svensson of Clan Higegeard. Nor was there any delay before

messengers left for Steadfast, Mastiff, Giantkiller, and Northwatch, bearing commands to withdraw to Hamrkeng over the seal of the ring once on Maggur's hand, that Stenmun had taken without disturbing the corpse. Kel endured feeling increasingly light-headed, growing pain in her feet, and a great desire never again to see a stormwing feather blazoning a stump, because it was easier not to move until the bustle sorted out. But as the sound of hooves faded everything slid into absurdity.

The problem was that every Scanran was determined to see Maggur's corpse and her at close range for themselves, and given the evident tensions between surviving loyalists and coerced clansmen there was good reason to enforce individual oaths. But Kel was not going to go on standing by headless Maggur, or at all given the pain of Junior's perforations, and as night fell she hobbled to the stonebridge road where icelights cast a soft glow. Raoul brought a chair from Maggur's pavilion, and though she glared she wanted to sit too much to wait for a different seat. Whitelist and Junior came with her, as did Tortallan witnesses—Imrah and Macayhill, nursing bruises, Terres and Ennor, unharmed and wide-eyed, Wyldon with a cut across face and brow, bisecting the hurrok scars on his cheek, and Alanna grumbling about the deep slash she'd taken. She asked the King if he wished to attend but Ebony reported a bland instruction to 'carry on'; other Councillors did come from New Hope, including Turomot, Disart, Nond, Harailt, Numair, and her father. She didn't dare do more than clasp his hand because if she once felt herself safe in his arms she'd go to pieces, and hoped he understood. That was all well enough, she supposed grumpily, but as Scanrans began to approach the adult griffins decided oaths were their business and glided in to sit on either side of her. At the same time St'aara and Var'istaan arrived with Amiir'aan and Bel'iira, to see mortal history in the making, and Kuriaju, Fanche and Saefas, accompanying Tobe, and Zerhalm with Irnai, whose smile silenced all objections to a child's presence on an uncleared battlefield. Then alarmed shouts announced Quenuresh and Aldoven, the great spidren offering Kel one of her ironic looks before falling into conversation with the griffins.

The final touch came because Tobe had taken one look at her and spoken to Wyldon. Baird had been busy among the Scanran wounded but came in response to the summons and insisted on treating Kel's feet. She was equally insistent she wasn't stopping the parade of men, their eyes nervously flicking to Quenuresh and the griffins before resting on her as they swore to keep peace until the set terms were fulfilled. Loyalists came first, sweaty and stained, not unwilling but shocky with all they'd been through and from the sight of Maggur's torso upright before his pavilion, feathered neck pointing to the stars. Delaying them wasn't a good idea but Baird didn't think delaying treatment was either, and she wound up watching nervous Scanrans swear while a duke knelt to ease sabatons, boots, and socks from her feet, wincing when he saw Junior's work. Kel was conscious that it was undignified and silly, but no-one seemed to mind and the retreat of light-headedness as Baird's green fire cleaned and healed told her he hadn't been wrong.

Dom helped. He came on Butter, bringing veterans who so far as Kel could tell just felt like seeing things for themselves, and she couldn't have cared less who saw her clasp his hand tightly. Peachblossom and Hoshi had also come, and seeing the big gelding beyond Dom she had to suppress laughter that would have raced beyond control when she realised what a picture they made—bandaged foot, braced leg, and Peachblossom with his stuck-together bones. Alder too had a hoof he was treating gingerly, having—Tobe said—landed on a Scanran, so they were a halt quartet and she wondered about the lameness she'd asked the gods to impose on Torhelm and the timeway's love of reflections.

But perhaps it was only Lord Sakuyo's love of the ridiculous, for the gravity of what was happening as mortals, immortals, and People shared witness was in Scanran faces, especially as dazed loyalists gave way to coerced men. They hadn't been fighting and were still primed from the illusion Quenuresh had spun. The truths Kel had conjured into reality, witness of the

remorseless slaughter culminating in dragonfire, and the speed with which it had spun out into all that happened to Maggur had them reeling; abrupt hope for kin because of it—because of her— made them solemn, hands across hearts, thanking her as they swore.

With a clearer head there was no excuse for not facing the butcher's bill, and her heart cramped. Seaver had died in the charge, with Kelner, Varlan, Pedrintor, and more, stopping loyalists who had tried ferociously to reach their king. Baird hoped to save Brodhelm's leg and Prosper's arm, but both would carry impairments as well as scars. When Uinse found her to add the tallies from the alures it was worse—Harrel, Deren, Ersen, Olleric, Anner and nearly a hundred more had fallen to arrows and bolts; men from every company, and volunteers. Serious injuries were fewer—at the distances involved bolts tended to miss or kill—but Connac was in the infirmary with a shattered shoulder and Mikal had lost two fingers, clipped neatly from his hand. In the five days since the traitors' attack more than a quarter of her command had died, a quarter of the troops she'd borrowed, and more among escort squads and veterans; the only consolation was that not one civilian had died, nor any immortal save giants, so she'd done the job though she shouldn't have had to and the blood on King Jonathan's hands was as thick as that on her own.

It was nearly midnight and her mood as sour as her belly before it was done. Harald Svensson had reserved last place for himself and after swearing came stiffly forward.

"The field is yours until Stenmun Gunnarsson returns, Protector. What would you have us

do?"

Kel had had time to think through what was needed. "The living have priority, Harald. Get their tents cleared and set up next to yours, please, and send any who need treatment to the healers. Gather what food you have—we'll sort more. And though your weapons remain your own all who walk beyond your camp save to hunt will walk unarmed, as my people will. It's so much harder to use a weapon you don't have."

A dry smile split his face. "Wisdom, Protector. I will order it so." "Thank you, Harald. And then the dead." "Yes. Many of them."

"They have to be cleared. Our dead will lie at Haven—on the knoll, there. What would you do with yours?"

He shrugged. "Most would wish to burn but it will be a grim business and I know not how so much flesh may be consumed."

"That's not a problem but clearing is. Get started when you can on heaping your bodies and undertaking any individual rites you wish."

"What of Maggur Reidarsson?"

"Do you claim his body?"

"No. It is yours by right."

"And I don't want it at all. He'll burn with the men he led to their deaths and his own. Meantime leave him—he can watch and wonder."

"But he—as you say, Protector. Is there anything else?"

"Oh yes, Harald, lots, starting with you telling me and my king what you all think is

needed to bring lasting peace to this border, but today's been too long and if I don't eat soon I'm going to fall down."

Startled at her frankness, he wasn't going to deny she'd earned her rest. Then there were Councillors to deal with but she turned them ruthlessly over to Turomot and her father. The immortals, gods be thanked, looked after themselves, though she took time to scratch Junior's head and thank him, as well as managing a wobbly bow to his parents. She'd never put her sabatons back on, and during the long rites had shed vambraces and rerebraces, greaves and cuisses, so she was back to half-armour and boots—and a good thing, for using the roadway was out of the question and with Alder limping despite Zerhalm's treatment she had to ride Hoshi to the corral. Once there the further distance to her bed seemed intolerable, and after giving Uinse her order that no-one went armed outside the walls save to hunt, she trudged up to Dom's room, shed breastplate and boots, decided hunger had to wait, and slid down an infinite dark slope into Lord Gainel's arms.

She didn't wake until mid-morning, and without remembering any of her dreams knew gods were pleased and dragons content with her use of their gift. She was covered in a blanket and someone had treated her feet again; they ached but no more, and though she felt stiff and grimy she also felt at peace—and by all the gods was. Not since she'd arrived at Haven had she believed—not hoped—that a day might pass without killing or casualties and it was a marvellous tingling. And someone had left clean clothes on the chair and a ewer of water that was still warm. Feeling human again she found the corral bustling with horses being moved back through the tunnel, Scanran ponies tucking contentedly into hay, and a squad on the alure whose sergeant told her everyone else was helping clear the field. That proved exaggeration, for caves and main level were bustling with people moving belongings back to barracks, but the duty watch was skeletal and a glance through the open gate persuaded her she didn't want to deal with anything beyond until she'd eaten—and not then, though she'd have to. The kitchens were preparing lunch and food for the injured, but the cooks hastened to whip up a huge plate she demolished. Thoughts of what awaited kept her from repletion but she was feeling less hollow when Yuki slid onto the bench next to her, Ryokel dozing in her arms.

"Keladry-chan. How are you?"

Kel considered, enjoying Ryokel's breathing and the pretty Yamani shawl she was wrapped in. "I'm not sure, Yuki. Happy, I suppose, when it sinks in, and sick at the thought of what's going on out there. Yesterday seems a long time ago or far away—it's the timeway, I expect."

"Perhaps. Neal is very pleased about you and Dom, by the way."

"He is?" Maybe the improbable was still happening.

Yuki dimpled. "Now he has got over arm-waving. So is everyone."

"Are they? That's nice, not that it's any of their business. How's the infirmary? I should come over."

"No-one else has died and the injured heal. And no, it isn't their business but their pleasure. You have become a great tale, Keladry-chan, and they are part of it. But they are also happy for you because you are not so alone any more." Kel looked down but Yuki forced her chin up with a gentle hand. "Be happy for them and yourself. We are Lord Sakuyo's Blessed and he was near when the thunder stopped."

That idea hadn't occurred to Kel and she blinked, thinking it over. "I don't know about then, Yuki, but I'll swear he was with me on the fin because it was such a good joke it should

come down to me and the highest a mortal can get around here. It was his extra-loudness I prayed to borrow in the field and I suppose dropping Takemahou-sensei''s overhang on Gissa and Tolon when they wanted it to shelter them is the sort of thing he'd like. But the thunder? I know it's like Kumo's verse but that was the timeway, I think."

"You prayed to use his voice? And were granted it." Yuki shook her head, eyes wide and very Yamani.

"Well, the gods' work was done by then. It was the giants they were bothered about, not Maggur, really—he was a mortal problem but I think Lord Sakuyo was amused by … by having The Girl win the battle by stopping it." Kel grinned at her friend. "If you ask me, Lord Mithros quite likes me because I'm an honest warrior and Lord Sakuyo likes me more because I'm such a good joke on Tortallan ones. I've no idea what the Goddess wants of me, or the Black God, but I think yesterday was what they could all agree on, and they do want peace, even Lord Mithros. The hoohah about the timeway must have been very trying for them, so let's hope they're all feeling in need of a nice long nap."

"Keladry!"

"I know, Yuki, but really." The Black God especially deserved some rest from his labour. "I must go. There are dead men to burn."

"Yes. Baird is very concerned."

"I bet. I think there's a way, Yuki. Give Neal my love? And Ryokel when she wakes?"

Walking back to the gate she saw the King with Vanget on the north tower roof and decided to ignore him as long as he let her; it was easier. Instead she took a deep breath and went through the barbican, steeling herself. Further away it wasn't too bad—most trampled tents had gone, the encampment down the valley looked orderly, and people were moving purposefully about. And the middle ground of the field had been cleared of corpses, or rather, had them moved into a growing stack in one place, weapons piled beside them. But around her they were still thickly strewn, and the gore beyond description. New Hope's clearance of its walls had not extended beyond the breach, and from the look of it had involved slinging Scanran dead back out. Anger flickered in Kel's breast but there would have been Tortallan injured to search for, and if the men doing that had carried Scanran corpses from inside the breach all the way out through the tower, what would they have done with them? Besides, if she was right it wouldn't matter, and if she wasn't the indignity hardly mattered next to what had to be cleared from the pits. Men were making grim progress up the roadway, and a path had been beaten to where others built piles, but they weren't a tenth of the way up, the business of the pits hadn't begun, and giants hung bloatedly from the abatis and bumped in the moat. Looking up she could see a mob of Tortallans around Maggur's pavilion and Numair and Harailt crouched where the trebuchet had been. Kel went to have words.

"I know it's ugly for you and I'm sorry, but it's going to be ghastly anyway and take so long we'll be dealing with more than bodies. The moat is also going to stink worse than it already does unless we fix it. And I'm all out of divine favours today, but I do have two in a quiver if we can make it possible to use one."

Numair smiled tiredly. His eyes were shadowed although he'd recharged from opals. "Alright Kel. Gods know the problem's real and I was wondering how we could help but I hadn't thought so … directly. And if it's going to be bad for us I bet it'll set the Hag laughing like one of her hyenas. Bonedancer will be sorry to miss it too."

An hour later both mages were dressed in clothes for burning afterwards, and Kel ushered

them through the gate. The alure was still filling with people and many Scanrans had yet to come from their encampment, but as the smell hit them both grimaced and went to work. Pipes raised, they caught one another's eyes, Numair's foot set a driving beat, and the first notes sounded, compelling the dead to rise and walk.

The Sorcerer's Dance could be used for anything a mage wanted moving; the rest was a trade off between power and weight, and these men had built New Hope moving vastly greater weights of stone than even Kel could amass in corpses. To raise bodies and sway them down the roadway was magically straightforward but sheer numbers presented a problem and the furthest down the roadway had to drop in rows until others slid dragging legs over them. The movement of the wave was slow while bodies massed around gatehouse and breach were cleared, and each pit was a separate operation, utterly grotesque—corpse after corpse, pierced and slashed by the spikes, crushed by men who'd run over them, swaying up and out to drag off down the way and join a transferred heap, eventually to progress again.

No-one was interested in lunch and when the last pit was cleared, in mid-afternoon, the mages took a break before Numair went round via the corral to the foot of the roadway and the pipes started again. This time bodies at the bottom moved first, sliding and bumping over the moatbridge and away towards the piles, and disconcerting as it remained it was far faster. Alanna had been recruited, with two spells running, one army healers used to find anything that ought to be removed from a body in the field—identification, anything stolen, and valuables a man's kin might want—and a version of the disarm spell that plucked out any weapons still on the corpses, even the arrows most bore in flesh. Senior Scanrans of each clan and loyalist sergeants stood with clerks to name and list the dead as they swayed to ungainly rest, and take charge of anything spell-stripped. Tortallans were there to name any of the traitors they could, note fief badges, and receive property. Then only giants remained, and the sight of vast, bloated and reeking bodies rising from abatis and moat for their last shambling journey was so far beyond anyone's experience Kel thought none knew if they'd rather find the way to laughter or howl despair at the waste of it all, and so were mute until it was done. It was at least swift, and afternoon light lingered when Maggur's body was brought, locked in its kneeling position.

The final phase began, all three mages starting again at the gatehouse, using raw power to scour blood and whatever else remained from the rock. To Kel's approval the King joined them, blue fire among black, red, and purple, and didn't shirk the work needed around breach and pits.

Dragonfire had helped, and with only rock beneath no delicacy was needed, but it was dusk when they reached the moatbridge, and full dark by the time they'd walked the moat, pouring power into its water. Numair had warned Kel more would be needed and she didn't doubt it, but the lessening smell and symbolic completion mattered. The dark suited Kel now, and after she'd fetched what she needed she stood under icelight on the roadway, Numair's hand on her neck.

"Men of Scanra, I come to burn the dead. I did not know or command them, and cannot speak for them. Would any say anything of them ere our cleansing of this field ends?" She gave it a full minute, but Harald hadn't thought there'd be any takers and he was right. "Then I will say only they were brave, and loyal in their cause. I regret the need for their deaths and ask the Black God of his grace to grant all who have died here his mercy, save Maggur Reidarsson alone, and take them to the company of their forefathers."

She'd already opened the quiver and strung the godbow, so it was the work of seconds to find her stance and nock. She had her arching glove to prevent a second burn and felt only warmth as the sunbird arrow soared into the air. This time she was able to admire the fiery arch it made before vanishing into the mound of corpses, and see the whole, vile thing began to glow, brighter and brighter, outermost bodies, mortal and giant, outlined against incandescence before they became incandescent themselves and were lost in the glory of light. Maggur too blazed white, the only distinct shape. Heat warmed her face but there was no smoke or noise, only blinding

radiance and after a while a swift slump into ash for the night breeze to pluck at. It would have to be sacked up, but New Hope was clean and only her own dead remained.

Their funerals took the whole of the next day, although Kel buried them in batches while volunteers dug grave after grave, barely keeping pace with wagons rolling across the valley. Comrades and officers of the slain were willing they be buried where they'd fallen, and she didn't distinguish New Hope's own from those who had become so. She explained the customs she'd begun, but the time it took wasn't because memories were spoken for all—everyone kept their heartsease brief—but because there were so many witnesses that moving from batch to batch was a slow process, and because there were so many dead of whom she had her own brief memory to speak, or more. Over Varlan's grave she recalled his help against the tauroses; over Kelner's, Ersen's, and Olleric's their unstinting service; and over Seaver's, with Neal and a white-faced Prosper, cocooned arm in a sling, that long ago meeting with hill bandits and the courage he'd shown overcoming his fear of spidrens.

The stormwings hadn't been seen since their shrieking flight north, but other immortals were there, including Quenuresh, and the King. He didn't interrupt, though his amazement grew steadily as chimes sounded, wind soughing in dead calm as Kel declared the Black God's grace to those who died in New Hope's service; and he spoke over Seaver's grave, mourning a knight of Tortall and for Tasride. The Council was there, Blue Harbour's hand swathed, Wyldon's cut stark on his white face, and everyone's faces drawn as the interminable day wore on. Nond had to be found a seat, and after a moment of eye wrestling Turomot accepted one also, but others stood. Runnerspring was present under guard. With a truce declared Uinse had discontinued his dreamrose without waiting for Kel's order, and when he'd come round he'd been bluntly informed of events; whether he'd believed it before he saw the Scanran encampment was moot but he knew what was happening as he watched Genlith buried beside Rogal. The bodies of traitor knights and men had burned with the Scanran dead and no -one had objected, but Macayhill had asked Genlith be buried so he could make his peace with the man he'd killed, and formal infamy didn't seem wrong to Kel, though she told him bluntly his peace was his business. None would speak at Genlith's grave.

Rogal had been a man under orders, whatever they had been, and his actions peccadilloes next to Genlith's crimes; she had forgiven him but given him no headstone, allowing him to hire oblivion in dying. Genlith had chosen in wealthy privilege to conspire in the deaths of thousands and for him she had a headstone—headwood—carved plain:

Here lies a Lord of Genlith

who sold and slew his own

and was buried without tears

or plea for the Black God's mercy.

The body was interred in silence and Kel placed the headwood with cold precision, then stood aside as Amiir'aan set the words in jet-black obsidian to endure wind and weather, and afterwards took his paw and walked with him away from the dead. On the road, going slowly for the sake of the young, elderly, and injured who followed, her father caught her up, face pensive.

"My dear, you have a vocation as a priest if being warrior, diplomat, and mouthpiece of gods doesn't keep you busy. A formidable teacher, too—that headstone will be known across Tortall. If anyone had told me I'd see you transform the Council in fourteen months, or that Turomot could be made to sit in deference to his age, I'm sorry to say I shouldn't have believed a word. And thinking about that I realised I really should ask the warrior and diplomat who did it what she intends to do next. Do you know?"

Kel had to wait several steps before she had herself under control, but her father's familiar,

courteous playfulness gliding over commitment to his calling was a mode she could deal with. He was Kel's Papa, the Protector's fellow Councillor, and a duke of the realm.

"Some of it. It depends who Gunnarsson comes back with." "Because of blódbeallár?"

"Partly, Papa, but do you remember saying you couldn't imagine the shape a treaty could take? I'm hoping this truce will become an excuse for something more, a way for us to try to do what needs to be done to settle this border properly."

"Then it also depends on who the King comes back with—if he were going away, that is." Kel managed not to trip. "You're joking."

"I'm afraid not. It's mid-February and he has to be back for Beltane. He might get six weeks in Corus, and he'd spend them dealing with the monumental consequences of fiefs that are or will be vacant, and reassuring many people who are going to be highly perturbed by proceedings. So he has concluded, reasonably, that he's better off staying put. He can let a deal of dirty work be done in Corus while he is sheltered by your name and New Hope's and the news of what has happened. But he is therefore here, and it will be a while before those he will summon arrive."

"He'd better tell them to bring food and bedrolls."

He laughed. "True, my dear, and I'll make the logistical point."

"You can remind him he's still a guest in a military command as well. He can come and consult me about what's possible."

"Mmm. I wondered if you were feeling like that. He's wondering too, and worried. You stand in a moment of great power and he doesn't know how you intend to use it."

"He ought to have the idea by now." Kel was sadder than angry. "The children have had enough war for a lifetime, not just a generation. Me too. And I will use any power I have to make sure the killing stops. If he thinks I'm not serving him well enough tell him I'm serving Roald and Shinko and his grandchildren better."

"Excellent—a policy he can understand and approve even when it galls. And there is a question of who exactly he does summon, my dear. Do you have a view?"

Kel was silent for a dozen paces before she sighed. "The logistics is a real problem, but in principle let them all come. It has to be a settlement for the north—of Tortall, all of it, so let all come to witness. What will matter is who's at the table, when there is one, and that's Council and Army as well as royal business. I'm sure Vanget and Turomot can remind His Majesty if it slips his mind. Besides, whatever works has to work for the Contés as much as for the Council of Ten."

"True, though I confess I've little idea what that might be. Mmm. It seems an impious way of putting it, but are gods at the table too?"

"I don't think so, Papa. Not in any straightforward sense. There may be, um, issues arising from the skullroad, and anything signed at New Hope will be subject to their approval, but I don't think they care very much how we get to a peace as long as we do."

"They keep others at the table, then."

"Yes, maybe. But immortals will do that. You might suggest His Majesty practices speaking under the Honesty Gate so he doesn't get flummoxed when he can't lie in the presence of griffins."

Her father transformed a snort into a cough. "I will, perhaps not in that way. You mean Quenuresh and Kuriaju to be present? And Barzha?"

"I can't speak for Barzha, but the others, certainly. The blódbeallár truce extends to lands they hold by treaty."

"So it does. Splendid. I don't believe blódbeallár recognises immortals, though."

"That's its problem. I declared the truce and signed the treaties. Stenmun can try telling Quenuresh she doesn't count. I'd like to know where those giants were heading, as well."

"Ah. I ... don't see at all."

"They were coerced too. I've never spoken to a giant, but if one's willing I'll start. And I'll tell you who I want to come, besides Mama, and that's Daine, Kitten, Kawit, and Thayet. And every page in training—spring field trip."

Her father digested this. "Thayet, certainly. Roald and Shinko too, I expect. Daine also, and that means Skysong. May I ask why Kawit?"

"Because she's adult wyrm and as moderator she'll work wonders." "Moderator? My word, yes. And the pages?" "First-hand orientation, you might say." "The fourth years will be due their big tests." "Anyone judging those tests ought to be here anyway." "You have an answer for everything." "Piffle."

He laughed. "Of course it is. But it has seemed so, this past week. I find it hard to believe my feet are on the ground."

"Well, here's a distraction to stop you floating away, Papa." She took Dom's hand. "It might encourage even Avinor into the sunlight for once. Beltane is a traditional time for handfastings, and Midsummer for weddings, especially when the bride will be twenty-one. But there is one tricky thing for your pride, Papa."

He managed not to stumble. "Oh, my dear. That's splendid. Congratulations to you both, warm congratulations. Your mother will be as delighted as I am." The rest of what she'd said caught up with him. "Ah, this Midsummer you mean? Are you, um—"

"No." Kel managed to look indignant. "And I didn't mean your consent either, though I should have. His Majesty's providing the dowry, but you mustn't be insulted. Think of Mindelan. And though he'll be paying, he won't be giving me away."

It was his turn to be silent for a dozen paces before he smiled. "Diplomacy and a wedding —a very traditional association, if not in quite this configuration. And I believe you and I must

have a rather longer conversation than we managed the other day, Domitan."

"I shall borrow Kel's tea-set, Your Grace, though I'm afraid I can't sit cross-legged very well. And I must check with His Grace of Wellam how I become Tobe's adoptive father. I confess I haven't a clue."

"Ah. Nor I. I believe there's something about Kel's heirs of the body in the adoption papers, but nothing about their sires that I recall."

Dom grinned. "We'll be fixing that, then. Oh, and Kel, Tobe tells me Peachblossom wants to be best horse."

"Dom! You're making that up."

"I'm not. We did grooming together this morning while you were pattern dancing. I wondered about gelding of honour, so Hoshi can be a bridesmare. Alder's jealous though."

Kel's father smiled with delight. "Horse diplomacy! Marvellous. We must refer to my Lord of Cavall." He peered up at her mischievously, expecting her at least to roll her eyes, but the lunacy wasn't misplaced and there was a matter he could best deal with.

"You do that, Papa. I don't doubt Peachblossom will be there in some capacity, and all the world by the ears. Hearing thunder stop, probably—ask yourself, who'd really be amused by a gelding of honour at the wedding of a Tortallan lady knight? And in all seriousness, while I'll write to Patricine and Toshuro, will you inform His Imperial Majesty two of Sakuyo's Blessed are to wed? More than two, probably—Fanche and Saefas and others I handfasted at Lughnasad will be minded to wed themselves, I bet, and they all want me to marry them so I shall probably wind up marrying myself. They'll hear the laughter in Yaman."

"I'll certainly send a note, my dear, but I believe a different priest is traditional. And I thought you said the gods' business was done."

"For the war, Papa. And I'm not so sure it was necromancy after all, unless Blayce was Chaos-touched. It was Uusoae's legacy, and Ozorne's—immortals in the mortal realms. Daine calls it Dunlath Part II. But for weddings?" She shrugged. "I told Yuki I hoped the gods all wanted a nice nap after the fuss with the timeway, but I was thinking about it, when I proposed to Dom actually." She smiled, because he'd been in no position to refuse, not that he'd wanted to. "Lord Mithros might but tricksters won't, and every well-brought-up Yamani girl invites Lord Sakuyo in case he's insulted enough to turn up anyway. Work it out."

They led the procession up the roadway in alarmed silence.


	31. Chapter 29

Warison

Part VIII – Beltane

February – August 463 HE

Chapter Twenty-Nine — Warison

15 February – 15 April

There was a great deal to be done. Soil carts had accumulated, not to mention laundry, and a great many things had to be moved back to their proper places. The roadway had to be restored, and with mages and blazebalm on hand Kel saw no reason not to do the job properly, replacing mageblasts and bombs as well as restoring the pitcovers, though the new keys were kept locked in her safe. Once wagons could again pass up and down restarting cultivation and fieldcare became a priority, but there were other things for which ogre strength was needed. Palisades and alure needed to be repaired, broken sections drawn like rotted teeth and new wood emplaced for petrification, impromptu but heavy awnings taken down, broken casts removed from killing field and glacis, and cracked arrows from rooves and gutters. And besides all the physical legacies of the siege, Kel had her hands full with paperwork: decency required her to write to the kin of her dead and the army demanded she notify commands, quartermasters, and those responsible for pensions. After which there was the troubling consideration that the Scanrans didn't have a great deal to do.

Provided they came unarmed and made declarations under the Honesty Gate, Kel gave them access to the main level, though it meant posting guards to secure areas that were off-limits and ensuring the King and others were escorted when not safely behind doors. And with little else to occupy them, the Scanrans came, at first in small groups, then larger ones and as individuals, cautiously looking around with fascination. Many watched the ongoing repairs with more than military interest, and basilisk abilities to loosen and set stone as well as petrify set tongues wagging; immortals dwelling in friendship fascinated them, and many were quick to offer help hauling or scrubbing. There were, however, a lot of them, and they weren't going anywhere for ten weeks, so what mattered was to stop them getting bored

Kel had inadvertently started shaping one part of an answer with her words to Harald when she had turned from burning the Scanran dead to find Stanar watching, Zerhalm and Irnai beside him. On his other side Jacut misinterpreted her surprise.

"'E asked if 'e could watch direct like, Lady Kel, on be'alf of all our pris'ners, an' I didn't like to say no. I 'ope I did right."

"Surely, Jacut. I was kicking myself for not letting the prisoners know they're all at liberty under their oaths again. Which includes the encampment down there. Is that likely to be a problem?"

Stanar shrugged. "Probably, Lady Kel. We've always understood there'll be hard words."

"Mmm. The man who went after the hostages was Stenmun Gunnarsson, Clan Somalkt, so there must be other Somalktir." He nodded tightly. "Go with Zerhalm and Irnai, if you will, to tell those men some truths. The liegers of Rathhausak are here, and the prisoners. Tell them why, and what you have seen."

They went next evening, after the Tortallan funerals, and Irnai told Kel and her father what had happened. The Rathhausakers had been in a place every coerced Scanran understood, and if Loyalists were more hostile, testimony of exactly what had happened at Rathhausak from Scanrans who'd been there bore on them hard; they really didn't like what Maggur had done, and the manner of his death left all reflective. But Stanar and his fellows were in another category, even for coerced troops and despite close, wincing attention to his account of Scything Wheat; they'd surrendered to save themselves, not withdrawn from combat, and if then oathbound had had no business giving oaths to begin with. Death before dishonour was the prevailing view—a common warrior philosophy that, as Kel's father observed with a sigh, would if pursued to its logical conclusion divide the world into the dead and the forsworn.

"Yes, I surrendered," Stanar had told them, "because I was in a hopeless place and you can't do anything if you're dead. I faced the Protector and you all found what kind of a fight that means. And yes, it was dishonour, but how many stories do you know where you have to go through dishonour to win something greater? I, Stanar Petarsson, Clan Somalkt, surrendered my axe to a woman—the one who fed Maggur Reidarsson to stormwings and counts dragons as friends, to whom gods lend ears and voice. And because I did I am alive to tell you I have spoken with dragons."

His laugh, Irnai observed gleefully, had hit them like Lord Sakuyo's.

"I, of no account because clanhome and kin fell to Maggur Reidarsson's axes, told the Hamrkengingsaga in full to wyrm and draca, the draca a kit, and for my pains was told the whole night long that everything it says of dragons is ridiculous. I have spoken to the giant spidren, and can tell you she is more interested in eating cheese than you, and would like to sell you old webbing to pack windows in winter. I have spoken with basilisks and ogres, stormwings and darkings I didn't even know existed, and learned things that make my head spin higher than Maggur Reidarsson's ever went. It's been the most astonishing eight months of my life!

"I have also come to know the Protector a little, and my world has been turned upside down many times over. I don't need to explain. And she treats me as a man of honour still, though I put hope before despair. You think I should have died. Do you think I didn't think so too, often and long? We all did. The Protector disagrees, because she wants a better Scanra as much as any, and thinks living people who can work and change their minds are more use than dead people who can't do either. And she's right. If honour says otherwise it's a watchdog's fart—heed it and all you'll find is stink. Yes, I who fought at the Bloody Plains, surrendered to a woman. I am no longer ashamed I did so, and whoever wants to know more can find me and all who surrendered working by the terms of our oath. There are fields to plough if we would eat, and that's what I'll be doing. I know why, too. Do you even know why you're here?"

Irnai could recite the whole thing word for word, and though she couldn't match Stanar's vocal range she caught his manner eloquently. The pitch had been made, and Scanran comings and goings over the next fortnight showed discussion underway. From it a more formal answer to Scanran boredom emerged: visiting the encampment herself Kel made a short speech, asking every man to consider what he believed should happen to end the war as justly as possible, so there should be no cause for another—answers in as few words as possible, to be copied for every person who'd sit round a table discussing their children's and grandchildren's lives. In a move that had Raoul slapping his thigh—was there no end on it?—she asked everyone at New Hope to do the same, and at dinner that evening the King opened discussion by saying that depleted as his

treasury was and wholly at fault as Maggur had been he didn't believe it practical to seek reparations, but personally found the idea of a fifty-foot wall along the entire border very attractive.

"Walls are splendid things, sire, I agree. I'm very grateful to the ones around us, and have fond memories of the Palace enclosure, as my Lord of Cavall can tell you. But where will you get the bricks and mortar?"

"Now that's an excellent question, my Lady. One reason good walls are so hard to come

by."

"And good walls do so many things, sire. Hold up kingdoms. Protect those we're sworn to protect. And cast long shadows where nothing grows and it's always damp."

Alanna later told Kel, cackling, that the look on Jon's face had been beyond rubies, but what mattered to Kel was the effect on her people. Jonathan had elected to stay and must expect to have his ears bent, sometimes out of shape. Discussion groups developed, with a strong propensity to try to collar anyone who might have another view to consider, and the King was as prime a target as Kel herself. To be fair he took it in good part, explaining honestly why he thought some things impossible, looking dubious at others, and above all listening to what people were saying.

It wasn't all high politics. Everyone wanted to give Kel and Dom a wedding present, and bubbling discussion groups made possible rapid consensus that a collective gift would solve many problems, and a proper house was the obvious need. There was ashlar, basilisks could excavate cellarage, providing scree to reshape, and the triangular space between the last barrack and the path to the cave, now free of coffins, would do nicely. A red-faced Kel protested but found herself peppered with impertinent questions. Did she hope to emulate her mother's fecundity? How many children had each of her sisters had? Who would be part of her household besides Dom and Tobe? Would a dozen guest rooms suffice? And did she intend to combine the administrative heart of her fief with her family dwelling? Nor were Dom and Tobe exempt—what did their idea of a perfect house look like? Kel managed to delay things for all of three hours by saying she'd hoped to use any new structure as an example of Geraint's basilisk-ogre-mage architecture, but Vanget, confronted by a delegation, caved in and Geraint was summoned.

Fuming, Kel gave up—except she couldn't if she didn't want to live in something she disliked, so taking many deep breaths she left Dom and Tobe to talk to the eager would-be builders and steadfastly ignored the absurdly large hole that began to be excavated beyond the last barrack, other than to drag people away from it when necessary for things that actually mattered. Chief among them was ploughing: with the mild season and early winter harvest Adner had an unarguable case, but besides nearly three thousand Scanrans camped in the valley, where further visitors—expected by the horde—were to be put was a real quandary. It wasn't as if Adner could leave good land fallow in case it was needed for tents, and while Kel was in principle willing to make visitors camp beyond the cultivated areas that would now put them three miles or more from New Hope, which in practice wouldn't be such a good idea. Food could be dealt with—wagon trains had already arrived and more were scheduled—but rooms were a stubborner problem.

The visiting companies weren't going anywhere until the Scanrans left and Kel dissuaded Vanget only with difficulty from bringing the troops from the eastern border, who had finally managed to arrive. Some had been sent back, but there were extra companies billeted at Giantkiller and Mastiff, with more in Riversedge and Bearsford, so that while those in the valley remained outnumbered three-to -one, parity was available within a day's march. Kel was herself unconcerned but couldn't deny facts, and Harald Svensson accepted that in Vanget's shoes he'd be reinforcing as fast as he could, so keeping extra troops out of the valley itself, on logistical grounds, was as much as she could manage. To her surprise the King was supportive,

acknowledging Vanget's concern but going with an escort of the Own to visit the encampment and gauge Scanran temper for himself—intensely curious and stoical in the face of frequent rain making life unpleasantly muddy and damp.

Kel winced and went to consult Numair and Harailt, who with Alanna's help managed to cobble together rain shields powered by black opals that didn't cover the whole camp and caused problems where water poured from their edges, but with some rearrangement kept most Scanrans dry and provided water butts that didn't have to be filled from New Hope's spring or the Greenwoods. They made the mages very popular, and Harailt and Alanna took to spending time with the Scanrans—Harailt indulging his scholarship with men who knew old sagas, while Alanna wanted to discuss swordplay and exercise her healing arm, solemnly applying to Kel for permission to take weapons with her.

Laughing, Kel was struck by a thought and promptly deputed Alanna to organise weaponwork competitions. Spinning from the whole cloth she specified, as well as individual disciplines, a combination event to produce a champion judged on versatility. Intrigued, Alanna recruited Raoul and went to see Harald, and within a day Adner was cursing even more because the practice areas soldiers were now using between the encampment and New Hope took yet more land out of commission. Kel let him extend cultivation further south to compensate, but that worsened the problems there'd be with new arrivals, and at her wits' end she found herself seriously wondering whether she should build more hoists—if she could get rope from Mindelan —and stick everyone on top of the cliffs. Downslope towards the abatis the wind wasn't too bad, but when she imagined trying to lodge her grandmother Seabeth-and-Seajen four hundred feet up a rockface she thought she'd really rather not. Still, she'd rather that than have the caves too crowded, and the green couldn't be used because it would be needed for spectators when the shrines were the focus.

A better answer first came in the form of Barzha, who returned fifteen days after Maggur's fall. Kel didn't ask where the Stone Tree Nation had been but Barzha was happy to tell, reporting that Maggur's head had plummeted from great height into the burned shell of Rathhausak, and they'd been gone so long because the energy absorbed from the battle and what Kel had asked of them left them so charged up that flying fast and far was the only relief.

"Rathhausak was a waypoint, Protector—I think we were in Galla before we stopped and we found all sorts of interesting things to do. It's always entertaining to bear news, and you've sent a shock along this border even the Vassa felt."

"Hardly on my own. You didn't happen to see those giants, did you?"

"Heading up the Smiskir, grumbling. Why?"

"Oh, just wondering where they'd gone."

"Back to the Icefalls by now, I should think. "

"Is that where they live?"

"Mostly."

"Doing what?"

"Fighting. Eating goats when they can catch them." She smiled. "Would you save them too, Protector? Giants are dim and quarrelsome at the best of times."

"So I hear. But those particular ones … tell me, would I be right to think they weren't

Chaos-touched and those who died were?"

"You are a clever Protector. I think so, as does Quenuresh, but sunbird fire leaves no trace so we can't be sure. Does it matter?"

"It struck me those coerced giants were smarter—they helped assemble the trebuchet and worked together to bridge pits. Was that all Gissa? Or had she selected the cleverest she could find, and if so do they want to go back to a life of regular fighting and occasional goats?"

"What would they do otherwise?"

"Heavy lifting? Fix rooves and paint ceilings?" Barzha cackled and Kel grinned. "Yes, I know, but the point is that if they're willing to give up fighting and exchange fair labour for regular goats, they'll be welcome. You might spread word."

"I might at that. You're very touching, you know. And not wrong— that lot were brighter than most so they might be able to work it out. But you're not going to be short of immortals, and none of us like giants—they grow big, not up."

"What do you mean, not short of immortals? Your Majesty?"

Barzha cackled again. "You do polite menace exceptionally well, Protector. But it's nothing I've done—just beings responding to your invitation whose travel has been delayed."

"Does that mean sat it out until the result was clear?"

"Such a suspicious streak you have. Not really. Safe travel for groundpounders hereabouts hasn't been easy."

That was true. "So who's coming?"

"More of the same, mostly—basilisks and ogres. There's a few tree- and watersprites but I doubt you'll see them unless they say hello. And you might understand if I tell you kudarung are on the move too."

The winged horses had willingly acted as steeds and messengers for the old raka queens, so Kel did understand. But basilisks and ogres now … "How many basilisks? And farming or mining ogres?"

The answers made Kel's eyebrows very mobile, and by the time no less than twenty-two basilisks and almost a hundred ogres, mostly miners, showed up two days later she had a plan. All the immortals had been travelling in smaller groups but found themselves clumped on the edge of the combat zone when Maggur's troops crossed the Vassa, and were very conscious they were arriving in the aftermath of bitter strife and loss. Kel waved that aside and settled to plain questions about what they all wanted—a familiar tale—and what she could offer given present circumstances. She had Geraint with her, with sketches, as well as representatives of the resident immortals, and once she'd laid out what she was asking and offering she and Geraint left them to discuss it.

"It's a massive project, Lady Kel. Even with all those immortals I'm not sure it can be done in time, nor anywhere near."

"Have you figured in Scanran labour? Thirty basilisks cutting, three thousand Scanrans hauling stone, and a hundred ogres finishing up? Anyway, it doesn't need to be completed—just far enough along that there are several hundred usable rooms. I think the bottleneck will be the woodshops and smithy for doors and hinges."

He did swift calculations in his notebook. "If you can really get the Scanrans hauling stone, Lady Kel, you might be right."

"Get them working with basilisks, Geraint? I could charge for the privilege. The competition is keeping them amused but not really busy, and I'll be happier if they're going to bed tired from honest labour. I just hope these basilisks and ogres don't mind singing for their supper before they're served it."

They didn't, and much began to happen. That many beings couldn't be quartered in Immortals' Row and the whole problem was restriction to structures within the walls anyway, unnecessary in peacetime. So the target was the cliffs south of New Hope: there would be a basilisk-and-ogre house, with rooms in proportion, and smaller apartments for guests and subsequently new population; for every basilisk or ogre working on dwellings for themselves another worked on spaces for mortals. The part of Kel with warm feelings for Orchan of Eridui insisted ground-floor windows have solid rock bars, but in limestone cutting stairs and setting about first-floor rooms was no problem for basilisks. The Scanrans listened as she outlined what was happening, asked disbelieving questions, and promised they'd look in the morning. When stone blocks began popping from the rock faster than any of them had ever seen, and ogres handed them to the nearest Scanrans with a smile and directions to stack them on the far side of the fields, they began carrying without demur. Within a day they'd adjusted routines to accommodate stints cheerfully hauling stone and talking to whichever basilisks were resting, and even Geraint admitted her insane schedule might be met. Real crowds wouldn't arrive for a month but a first wave from Corus would wash in before the end of the week, and from what Kel gathered of reactions to news of Maggur's last defeat—not to mention vacant fiefs—a tide of people wanting the King's ear was to be expected.

The day after the new immortals arrived he found her in the Eyrie, surveying openings beginning to punctuate limestone, and politely asked what was happening. She explained four objectives were being met—temporary mortal and permanent immortal quarters, a symbolic declaration of peace, and keeping three thousand Scanrans amused—and his smile was dazzling.

"Very good indeed, Keladry. When did you know these new basilisks and ogres were coming?"

"Two, no three days ago, sire. Queen Barzha had seen them." He shook his head admiringly. "You thought this up in a day?"

"I've been worrying about accommodation for weeks and wondering about trying to cut enough rooms, but it wouldn't have been fair to our basilisks. Twenty more was a godsend and I'm taking advantage."

"You underestimate yourself, Keladry. As I continue to do. It's a habit I must break but you do make that very difficult, you know. And I haven't even thanked you for winning this war, I won't say single-handed because it would annoy you, not wrongly, but even so—no-one has done anything resembling what you've achieved, and no other killed Maggur."

"That was Queen Barzha, sire, not me."

"Oh stop the vocatives, will you? Yes it was Barzha and I think I understand why that matters, but no, it was you. The elemental set you off and you've been like a charging warhorse ever since. Gods know I'm not complaining but it hasn't been easy dealing with the consequences. And what I'm to do with the vacant fiefs is a nightmare. Every possible collateral line is screaming claims, and all of the local administrations are probably as ghastly as Torhelm's

was."

"Warison."

"What?"

"Warison. The nobility needs fresh blood. Rule out all collateral lines by fiat under the provision for high treason against your person and award those fiefs to soldiers who really won this war for you and have the temperament and skill to lead people. It's right, it'll be good for fiefs and liegers, and it'll give the Council of Nobles more people who actually know something about the north. Their presence among nobles will ease relations with the Army Council, and you'll be able to count on them to help tell nobles what you can and can't expect an army to do."

"Gods, Keladry." He laughed. "I'd forgotten, again, what advice from you is like. It's a marvellous idea, but oh the howling at such innovation."

"Not so—my Lord of Trebond's your precedent if you need one. Most of King Jasson's creations were military and how did anyone get into the Book of Gold anyway? It was generals who shared out the Thanic Empire and commanders who became nobility in new kingdoms."

"So it was, and Trebond's a point. Everyone thought Alanna was cracked but Coram and Rispah have done an enormous amount for that fief. Warison, eh? Well, there's some more warison we need to talk about, Keladry. How much of what we can see is going to be New Hope? And should you be invested before or after the treaty signing, your handfasting, or your wedding? Ha! It's good to see you for once looking as flummoxed as I usually feel dealing with you. But we do need answers. Come and see me tomorrow morning, please. We've been dancing around this too long. Alanna's become unbearable, and Thayet will be very cross if she gets here and finds I still haven't sorted it out. So will Roald and Shinko, and that'll be bad for my good humour. So come and face the fanfare. You never know, you might even be pleased."

Kel knew perfectly well she'd been contradictory about the issue, and if it was partly just the oddity of transition from stigmatised squire to commander and putative Baroness in less than three years, it was also wanting to hide from accepting a lifetime responsibility for the centre of Tortall's northern border; or anywhere else. More than one lifetime too. Charging warhorse? Runaway, more like, and if Jonathan didn't like chasing after, what did he suppose the rider was feeling? But another part of her was eager for it; she had no choice anyway, and additional responsibilities she hadn't begun to understand until recently. Enough was enough—if you were to rule a fief and had a say in where its boundaries would lie, you didn't squander it.

She spent the evening with Dom. An earlier meeting with Turomot had informed them that while Dom would become Tobe's legal father, whether he became a baron would depend on the terms on the barony, and that Kel's title could be heritable through the female line or the male. Dom had no desire to be a baron though he was willing to bow to necessity, but about boundaries he had clear ideas extending to the silver mines in the Brown River valley and the Great North Road. A fief needed income, a northern fief especially, and good as the Guild was the majority of its profits would go to individuals, not New Hope. There were Spidren Wood and Aldoven's valley and Whitelist's centaurs to consider, ogre mining and farming, Adner's ambitions, and the scope of hunting game. It all added up to a vastly bigger fief than New Hope was a military command, and Kel took her nervousness about trying to ask for it to bed with Dom, who didn't

mind her asking at all.

Jonathan had taken over one of the guest rooms in the caves, which left his guards happier, but he'd asked to meet Kel in the messhall, ostensibly because the tables would be useful for maps. Kel suspected he had other motives and when she found him contemplating the panels her heart sank a little, though there were maps spread out. To her surprise her father was there, and Jonathan looked up as she entered.

"Ah, Keladry. I asked your father to attend because you're not yet of age—Turomot pointed that out and I'm still bemused—and your ennoblement inevitably intersects with the duchy of Mindelan. But before we get down to it there's something else. Even without godlight these panels are very good—unusual style and simple in their way, but beautifully clear and effective. The carvers were among your people?"

"Yes." Kel was cautious. "Civilian and military. It was the first flush of excitement about petrification really."

"Well, I want to commission them. The tale here is the creation of New Hope, but there's another tale now, of its survival and triumphant establishment as a fief. And coming down from the Eyrie yesterday I couldn't help noticing the inside wall of the steps—yards and yards of smooth rock. So—a series of ascending panels. I'll make the announcement tonight, with your consent."

Kel sat down hard. One of those carvers had died, but snapping at Jonathan would be neither gracious or helpful and in her embarrassment she had a thought that might be both.

"Thank you, I suppose." He grinned. "I hope they'll include the Scanrans' point-of-view, though, and there's at least one man among the coerced who's a mean whittler, Tobe tells me. Perhaps he can carve too. Gods know how they'll sort out who does what panel but it would be good if the intent was, um, truthful rather than overly triumphant."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed, with admiration rather than dissent. "Astonishing. I'll slant it that way. Can basilisks petrify plaster?"

"I'd think so. Why?"

"Duplicate panels—these and the new ones. Make a mould and cast in plaster. Petrify. I'll have them up in Corus before you can say boo."

Kel sighed. In for a groat, in for a bushel, and Lalasa would be thrilled. "Use water— Numair can hold it to the panel and the basilisks can render it as icelight. Contour will reverse but it should work."

"Gods, what a thought. Colour?"

"Ask Numair, but water's easy to dye."

"True." He grinned again. "I'll have New Hope shining in Corus more literally than I'd hoped. But now, boundaries. Come and look at the map. It's an exercise in logic, really."

They went to the table where maps in different scales showed the whole of Tortall, the north, frontier, army district, and—obviously new and compiled from the Eyrie—the Greenwoods and parallel valleys between the Brown, Great North Road, and Vassa. Kel's father said nothing as the King began to point.

"The minimum starting point is plainly the Greenwoods valley from Great North to

Frasrlund roads and that's a goodly fief. Anywhere else there'd be no problem, but the treaty grant to Aldoven includes the blind valley to the east and Whitelist's centaurs and herds range beyond the Great North Road and into the western valleys. I'm not disturbing those treaties, so we have to expand—and that brings us to the silver mines at Tirrsmont. When the fief was disbanded they came into royal administration and there are people who want them to stay there—if they can't have them themselves. It's tempting. Money's always welcome. But." His finger shifted to the maps of the district and frontier. "What do I want of New Hope? A strong, prosperous fief, holding the middle border, and for all you've the Guild you've nothing else but agriculture. I could take the mines and face your constant need or simplify everything and make them New Hope's. And if I do, in effect the old Tirrsmont landgrant comes with them."

Kel's mind whirred. Asking for more was apparently not a problem. "What about Riversedge?"

"Remains an independent settlement, but it'll be surrounded by your territory. Haryse and Disart talked to them last week and they're fine with it—delighted, Haryse says. They didn't like Tirrsmont at all but very much hope the land will be resettled."

"There's good soil there, so certainly, as numbers allow. And I'd think many refugees will be happy to go home, if they're still under New Hope administration."

"Good. And with the way you've set up your own council you're already in a position to deal with multiple settlements across the fief. So we come to Anak's Eyrie. I'm very sorry about Sir Tyrral—a good man who tried—but the facts are he's dead, left no heir, and oddly enough there are no claimants for a sacked fief hard on the border. If there were I'd take them seriously, and I've no doubt with news of peace there'll be a dozen shortly, who can rot. Sir Tyrral's surviving people want you as well as wanting to go home, so that landgrant comes in too. And that means your eastern border's not the Brown River either, but extends as far as South Bend waypoint on the Northwatch road."

Kel swallowed. "That's more than sixty miles from here." Outside haMinchi land she could think of maybe five fiefs that big, and all were south-central, where plains and rolling downs encouraged size.

"Yes it is. Now, further south the Brown River is a natural boundary until we come to Bearsford and the Great North Road. You're only ten miles from the road here and I want New Hope astride it. It's all unclaimed, like so much of the north—there's the old fort at Steadfast and the new one at Mastiff, but nothing else this side of the Grimholds. And the garrison at Mastiff will come right down, so …"

His finger traced a line a little north of west from Bearsford to the Vassa east of Steadfast and Kel swallowed again. That was more than seventy miles in the other direction and the area the King was suggesting was … close to two-and-a-half-thousand square miles. Only Conté and haMinchi lands were greater.

"You're serious?"

"Entirely. Work it out."

She already had. "You're building your wall deep rather than high. And you want another northern counterweight to the south."

"I am and I do."

"What does Lord Ferghal say?"

"Good question. I've spoken to him by spellmirror, and so's Vanget. He was surprised but not unhappy, and looks forward to meeting you."

The haMinchi forces had reached Northwatch in time to see Scanrans withdraw, and as the irregular cavalry raiding further east had also withdrawn most were there still. Lord Ferghal had been summoned for Beltane and no proxies would be required for that Council session.

"Do you accept."

Deep breath. "Of course I do, sire. And I'll counterweight the south as much as you like. But the border … I don't know. It's not enough." She glanced up at his muffled sound and shook her head. "Not the fief—that's enormous. I mean the border, the treaty. And what you want doing with the Great North Road. You're giving me a hundred miles of the Frasrlund road, and there's the junction bang in the middle of it. The problem is it's a T not a crossroads."

"Nothing I can do about that, Keladry, but if you're happy with those borders we come to the next thing, which is your rank."

"Rank?"

"Do I want a Baroness ruling the largest single landgrant in Tortall, while His Grace of Mindelan hasn't a quarter of that area?"

"His Grace isn't complaining, sire, and didn't win you a war."

"Even so, Piers. And you did win a peace—that's the whole point. No Yamani wars, no Carthaki wars, and with any luck no more Scanran wars for a good while. In any case, Keladry, I've decided two things. There's been a Mindelan extension grant being prepared since the promotion but I'm going to add to it, with Ennor's consent and Seabeth-and -Seajen's, so your father's borders will meet yours south of Steadfast, just. And as it would be absurd under these circumstances to make you a Baroness, you'll be Countess of New Hope."

Kel's eyes hurt because they were trying to widen and narrow at the same time. Reluctant to think about ennoblement at all she'd never even considered higher ranks, nor that the King might decide to create a Mindelan block to match the haMinchi one that ran from Northwatch to the Berint. And everything she thought she'd learned from Turomot about nobility and marriage was moot because she hadn't a clue how a countship—countessship had too many esses—might differ from a barony. Baronessy was stupid too. Her father sat forward.

"My dear, I'm aware of your conversation with Turomot, and he's apologetic he couldn't steer you to the right questions. He says the differences are mostly ceremonial but you do have some choices. If you wed Domitan before you are created, he will become Count-Consort when you are. If you wed him as Countess of New Hope he will become Count. Inheritance might still run in either the male or female line, at His Majesty's discretion in the terms of the grant. There's only one precedent Turomot can think of, centuries ago, when a deputy's widow was created heir to a barony after a rather brutal siege killed the ruling family—and she had only a son so she chose male inheritance."

Kel knew about that one, the only grant to a woman in the Book of Gold and now a thoroughly conservative fief. But her eyes still hurt.

"Alright, Papa. I'll have to talk to Dom about the before and after thing, and I want to know what the legal differences are for counts and count-consorts, but we choose the female line. It'll be easier for Tobe, and no offence but there are enough inheriting lordlings already." The King—no, Jonathan—smiled, and she knew he wouldn't fight that; Alanna would beat him with a

staff. "Will a future Countess have the same choice—marry a count-consort before inheriting or a count after?"

"Probably, my dear, but Turomot was unsure. It may not be resolved until it has to be."

"Oh yes it will—it goes in the grant. I'm not having a daughter or granddaughter faced with that kind of nonsense. There's no precedent worth a groat anyway so you can rule on it by fiat, sire."

"And what should I rule?"

"Same rights as a man—to whom this wouldn't apply."

"Not quite true—there are cases where timing of marriage and inheritance has been critical, but I take the point. Your son-in-law when you have one will become a count, regardless." A king blew out a breath. "There'll be squawking but you're right about precedent and Turomot will agree to clarity, so they can lump it. And female descent for female creations was the rule in the Thanic Empire, which had quite a few of them, so they can lump that too. Talk to your Domitan, but my sense is that I should create you Countess at Beltane, with the treaty signing."

"Why?"

"Symbolism and practicality—most of the Council's here and the rest will be soon, as well as half Corus and the gods know who else. Believe me, you don't want the issue hanging around afterwards for people to get over their shock and start thinking of objections."

That made sense, and she'd rather Dom was beside her, not a step behind. "I still need to talk to Dom, but if he's happy with it, alright." What was she agreeing to? "Is it like the ceremony for Papa and Mama?"

"Not quite—more of it, I'm afraid, as you'll be a new creation. And there will be some, um, history to rehearse. You're looking very grim."

"I expect I am. Tell me, sire, have you sent for Master Oakbridge?" "Gods, no. Do you want me to?"

"I think you'd better. On Beltane we'll have—should have—a treaty to sign, a handfasting, and now a creation. The treaty will be signed in the field, because we couldn't get all the Scanrans in here even if we wanted, but it'd be fair rude not to invite their signatories to the feast. Whenever it is, because there's everything else to do, which is certainly happening at the shrines."

"Yes, we'll be busy. Why Oakbridge, though?"

"Do you want to tell me whether Lady Yukimi comes before or after some Scanran aide, Anders as my eldest brother and Papa's heir, the Councillors, and oh, Quenuresh or Var'istaan as treaty-signing members of my council? And by the way, Papa, do you know if His Imperial Majesty intends to send a delegation? Oakbridge'll need to know and should bone up on the fact that most New Hopers are Sakuyo's Blessed, because the fact that almost all are commoners will matter less to any Yamani than he'd think. Then there's blódbeallár. And the claims of kin for a handfasting—what precedence will grandma Seabeth-and-Seajen have over Fanche as a member of my Countess's Council? Or Kuriaju? I couldn't care less but I'm bothered if I'm telling her she ranks below an ogre and a widowed miller's wife."

There was silence until Jonathan drew a shuddering breath. "Oakbridge it is, and his entire staff. With a couple of Turomot's brightest clerks. Good call, Keladry." He frowned. "Piers tells me you want the pages?"

"I do. Padraig ought to be here, and there are plenty of people to act as examiners— Wyldon can chair, with the most conservative knights among the visitors. Big tests at once, to put them out of their misery, then run them off their feet fetching and carrying. We'll need everyone we can draft."

"Makes sense. There'll be squires too—not all, but many—and Thayet's bringing a fair number of Palace staff. It's going to be worse than the blessed Progress, which I'd have sworn wasn't possible." He shook his head. "Oh well. Funfunfun, as Shale would tell me. You wanted Kawit too."

His voice had become more serious and she matched him, nodding.

"Oh yes. You're worrying about how your lords will take the idea of an immortal as moderator. Don't. Think about the effect, not so much on those lords, though it'll do them no harm, but on Scanrans. I chose a draca as Quenuresh's illusion for a reason, and though Kawit is wyrm she's going to bring them to a dead halt. No rhetorical axe-waving. Shocked attention. And no lies, because the griffins will be there too."

She looked at the great swathe of land that would become New Hope, with the shining Vassa along miles of her border—to hold fast, somehow, so no Scanran raiding party or army ever crossed it again. The maps didn't show Scanra in any detail, and that was what was missing from all this heaping of riches and coals on her aching head.

"So yes, Kawit as moderator, if she will. And I think she will." The dragons had an interest of some kind besides her proposed place of embassy, though Kel wasn't sure what. "She'll also know if we go off track and do something the gods won't accept. Which would include continued hostility from Scanrans, so it'll serve us well."

"Yes, alright. I did ask her about a position, as you suggested, and she said she'd consider it, but thought a different arrangement might be better. Perhaps this is what she meant."

Kel nodded absently. "I wouldn't be surprised—older immortals sense the timeway more clearly and by Midwinter she might've been able to see possibilities beyond the roil. I'm sure Diamondflame could, though he wasn't saying and couldn't know which would actually come to pass." Her mind was on Scanra and Jonathan's huffing laugh surprised her.

"Gods, Keladry. With mortals I'm beginning to think only the young can do that. Just what do we still have in store? Do you know?"

She blinked. "No, of course not. I can't see it at all and I've no idea what it wants—only that it has a sense of repetition, or harmony maybe, that I find heavily ironic and Lord Sakuyo finds hysterical."

There was another silence and Jonathan shook his head. "I should have stopped while I was ahead. If you understood that, Piers, please tell me—later. A lot later. Just now I need some lunch."

Over the next month people began to arrive, the southern cliffs acquired doors and windows gleaming at night, and the competitions reached entertaining conclusions with champions happily shared between armies and companies. The Scanrans were still cheerfully carrying stone and wondering if basilisks could be begged, stolen, or borrowed to do things to cliff faces they knew; Kel sent Idrius to discuss Guild terms and concessions, and as the chiefsmen present were senior in their clans a number of contracts were actually drawn up, though no-one was prepared to sign anything yet. All the same, it was a sign of the goodwill prevailing, competition and joint hunting parties having created a degree of military camaraderie while circulation through New Hope to visit prisoners and Rathhausakers and see the sights brought civilians into it. According to Fanche there was even a budding romance but Kel wasn't going to deal with that before she had to.

The King's commission for panels to tell New Hope's story had also worked well, much as Kel didn't care to think about it. Coupled with news of her proposed rank and confirmation that Tirrsmont and Anak's Eyrie would lie within her boundaries, Jonathan for the first time won her people's genuine approval. He'd needed Lady Kel to kick him into action, but hadn't they all? She was bemused by the logic, but quiet pleas to the carvers led to conversations with coerced chiefsmen who knew the Scanran tale of the last two years and had seen the final assault. Loyalists were also willing to speak—there was no shame in narrating experience and already some pride as survivors of the bloodiest day in border history since Jasson's reign. And after the messhall panels and sketches the carvers made had been considered it was agreed there would be at least one Scanran panel. Discussion of how to parse the story into panels was ongoing, though some had been decided and starts made, and Kel reluctantly answered questions about the tauros attack and meeting the Black God. Quite how they were going to deal with her rape she left to them, not even needing a minatory glance to ensure that they'd be very careful indeed, but for reasons she only half understood she told them the Hag and her hyena had been present, and sent them to Numair for a first-hand description. She also insisted the Black God and Lord Gainel attend Rogal's death, if they chose to represent it, as Lord Sakuyo and a sunbird should attend the burning of the trebuchet. The last meant Ebony had to show them what a sunbird looked like, and she was able to shuffle them out while they were still blinking.

Even with all that Kel was glad of early arrivals, for herself and because they helped entertain Scanrans after the competition ended. Thayet, Roald, and Shinko had left Corus with what for royals amounted to lightning speed, despite Shinko's confirmed pregnancy—anxious for so long, report of Maggur's death and a blódbeallár truce had set them into as excited a spin as it had Corus at large; news of the King's decision to stay at New Hope and of Kel's handfasting had them on the road within two days. Queen's Riders escorted them and Kel sent Mikal's company to meet them at Bearsford.

They came in style, befitting a Queen and Crown couple of Tortall mindful of to whom they were on show. Kel's opinion of pomp and circumstance hadn't improved but she understood the value of display and soldiers lined the roadway from stonebridge to moatbridge as the head of the long column came past the fin. Mikal's men peeled aside to let royalty mount the roadway first. Roald and Shinko were old New Hope hands, and with repairs completed there was nothing new for them to see north of the fin except the Scanran encampment, but to Thayet, leading, all was new and measured glances around as she climbed, with a longer stare at Pizzle and his fellows, did not conceal wide eyes. Kel wasn't sure if it was protocol or symbolism, but she stood foremost to greet her queen and in effect restore her husband to her by standing aside. Their white-knuckled handclasp and polite embrace were an object lesson in royal control, and there was a fair amount for them to endure before they could be left alone, as they undoubtedly wanted.

Thayet needed no coaching to make a declaration under the Honesty Gate, but the welcoming party beyond made her blink before she smiled. In the proper nature of things guests didn't greet guests, so New Hope's council, including the immortals, took precedence in their own

domain over the King's Council, and Councillors found themselves flanking Harald Svensson and senior chiefsmen, hair and beards braided and turned out in the best dress they could muster with help from New Hope's laundry and seamstresses. They were all thoroughly self-conscious, unused to Quenuresh and discommoded by Junior, who had come to investigate and inserted himself into the bustle, but Kel saw their stares at Thayet and Shinko and smiled to herself. All were great warriors, no doubt, but Thayet wasn't the Peerless for nothing and Shinko could leave any man dreaming; it wasn't a capacity Kel had but she'd seen its potency in women who did— endlessly, with the string of beauties Neal had pined for—and Thayet and Shinko made the Scanrans desire their notice, to see them smile, before either had spoken a word.

Complementary notes were struck by Yuki's formal greeting to Shinko, Numair's emotional welcome of Daine, and Daine's explanation to Kel that Kawit and Kitten would come nearer the time. Harald overheard, and Kel's confirmation that the wyrm and young draca Stanar had met were returning sent a ripple through the Scanrans that boded well. Ruthlessly following up, she introduced Daine as the Godborn before getting her to interpret a conversation with Junior in which she thanked him again for all he'd done, asked him to relay to his parents news of the negotiations and her request for their presence, and learned they approved the swiftness with which she'd used sunbird- and dragonfire to restore order. The Scanrans' sight of full communication with an unspeaking immortal was another shock to their systems.

Kel had intended to give Thayet the tour but seeing how she and Jonathan—not the King —looked at one another she wavered, and when she saw Lalasa and Tomas among the entourage smoothly suggested Queen and Crown couple must need to rest after their journey. The amused gratitude in Thayet's and Jonathan's eyes signalled agreement and she deputed a surprised Brodhelm—mobile but limping—to show the royals to their rooms. Before they'd left, trailing a gaggle of Councillors, she extracted Lalasa and Tomas from the mob trailing though the barbican and whirled them off for tea.

She'd sent Lalasa a letter concerning a wedding dress that had met her on the road, thanks to the quick wit of a courier who'd thought to check who was in the vast party and wound up carrying a variety of extra notes when he went on his way. What sounded like warehouses of material and all the Protector's Maids would be following, and a dress to outshine stars was promised, but what had set Lalasa on the road had been news of Maggur's death at—as the tales already had it—Kel's own hand. She'd heard the proclamation, run to the Palace to learn more, met Shinko hopping about in what sounded a very un-Yamani manner to be ascribed to joyful relief, and agreed to leave for New Hope at the drop of a royal hat. Listening, Kel decided she'd be avoiding Corus for years but Lalasa's sheer joy at war's end and Kel's survival—which she seemed not to have expected—was infectious. From that first morning after the battle when Kel had awoken with tingling knowledge of peace part of her had been rejoicing but black memories with the work of repair and writing to the kin of the dead had subdued it; now it was released by a friend's joy and her tongue was loosed. Lalasa more than anyone knew what her terror of heights had been and what going out on the fin had meant; happy marriage after abused youth made her sensitive to the path Kel had trodden since her rape; and ennoblement was for her so sweet an icing on the cake it was very hard not to laugh with her. Kel's happiness was complete when Dom came by to find out where she'd disappeared to. He was supposed to extricate her but instead stayed, catching up with Lalasa and making Tomas's acquaintance. Kel realised she and Dom were for the first time acting as a couple, entertaining friends, and was moved almost to tears at such a simple thing, so often experienced as a guest and so long thought another mystery for ever beyond her grasp.

When she did surrender to duty and left Dom to see Lalasa and Tomas to the best guest room she could wrangle, in the corral headquarters, Kel was unapologetic about having kept people waiting and saw approval in Shinko's eyes.

"Keladry-sensei, my esteemed mother-in-law is resting." Her eyes twinkled and Kel didn't think Thayet was getting much sleep. "Roald and I wondered if you might show us the building-work and Lord Harald invites us to see the encampment of his soldiers."

Kel wasn't sure about Shinko's award of a Tortallan title to a senior chiefsman or the protocol of visiting the Scanran camp, but dealt swiftly with other queries, swept up Councillors at a loose end, and set about making the most of it. Many Scanrans had gone back to stone-hauling after the excitement and were as surprised as flattered to find themselves meeting Tortallan royalty and a Yamani princess; by the time the party reached the camp they were on something as close to parade as was possible. Kel had snagged a squad of Uinse's men as escort, but the look on Nond's face when he realised he was the senior Councillor escorting the Crown couple into the middle of three thousand Scanrans was one to behold. Yet all was well—very well, in fact, for Roald's Scanran was respectable and however he'd been prevented from fighting himself knew what the war had been like, while Shinko had made her usual effort with a language and could hold up a conversation. They charmed and impressed all they spoke to, said right things, and managed with Kel beside them to project the unwavering strength of Tortall in meeting any challenge as well as its present willingness to deal. On their way back Kel explained that to Nond, thanking him for deft help with the exercise, and left him beaming confusion, to Roald's amusement.

"You've got the Council dancing, Kel. It's very impressive."

"Yes, well. They hadn't been in combat for a long time, if ever. It has a sobering effect." Not to mention what they'd seen her do, but Runnerspring, sent to Corus, was best unmentioned.

"I imagine. Was it very bad?"

"We buried more than two hundred and burned ten times that."

"Gods, that many? I gathered the traitors were all dead but father wasn't very forthcoming about how, or the rest of it."

"Ask others please, Roald? It's not something I want to talk about."

"Alright, Kel—so long as you know how grateful I am. We both are. The trials of Torhelm and Runnerspring as well as all those people from Genlith are going to be grim, so I can't say I'm sorry the traitors who took up arms died, but I am sorry it fell to you."

That was a long speech for Roald and Kel wasn't unappreciative, laying a hand on his arm; she just didn't want to rehearse slaughtering men by the thousand when she was managing to feel cheerful. The Black God took a lot of weight but couldn't take the burden away, nor should he; her hands had snapped mageblasts and dragonscale, and the irony of receiving a title and lands for becoming the greatest killer alive was never lost on her—as a woman and before she was of age, if further obscene absurdities were needed. If it hadn't been for Dom and the warmth he offered so unstintingly when blood swam around her she'd have been screaming days ago; but he helped more than she'd thought possible, and quiet remarks by Wyldon told her he guessed at her inner torment—fading, as it had to if she was to survive, and cushioned by the god, but pulsing yet.

"Don't worry about it, Roald, but … go carefully? It's clean now but this roadway was an abattoir. We're coping, and we'll go on coping, but everyone's reeling still." She met his eyes. "And please visit Seaver's grave at Haven? Quinden and Garvey have none."

She wasn't going to say more about having killed three of those who'd been pages with her—four, counting Joren—and buried two more, but the grasp of his hand told her he

understood. She wasn't sure how she felt about those deaths, and a conversation with Neal was overdue, but Roald's acceptance of the havoc she'd wrought among his cohort and her own was a step in letting them fade from oppressive consciousness.

"Of course, Kel. I'd do that anyway—poor Seaver. Did you hear Yancen got himself wounded too? Shoulder, in a tangle with slave raiders. He'll be alright but it was a near thing."

Other conversation eased Kel's emotions, and there was a dinner for her to host, welcoming Thayet. Throwing caution to the winds she put a reluctant Dom at her side, doubled the usual high table, included all her own council and Irnai as well as Scanran chiefsmen, and insisted Lalasa and Tomas attend as personal guests, telling them they'd have to get used to it. She sat them by Daine, opposite Fanche and Saefas, so they'd have a familiar face and people she could count on to be sensible, but they like everyone had to deal with interspersed Scanrans, and Scanrans had to deal with darkings wandering the table-top and spidren, basilisk, and ogre at table-ends—the only place there was enough room. Barzha didn't attend, but the Stone Tree Nation was in daily evidence, perched on roofs and merlons with a sated, sleepy look, but also quite talkative and for stormwings polite.

The cooks had made an enormous effort, and for Thayet as much as the Scanrans it was a first encounter with New Hope's goddess-blessed food. Thayet hadn't been living on bulk food supplemented by game for months, and had some idea what to expect from Lalasa's wedding feast, sighing her pleasure. The Scanrans exclaimed, settled to with gusto suddenly careless of their surroundings, and became as animated as stuffing themselves allowed; as everyone reached repletion the buzz of conversation in three tongues rose. There were, unavoidably, speeches, but Kel kept hers brief, the royals followed suit, and wine that had come with the queen served a valuable purpose for once; people shifted seats to pursue and switch conversations, followed the cheese-boards to where they were snagged by Quenuresh, argued keenly, and listened with interest. Feasts were as integral a tool of diplomacy as treaties and weddings, and this one began a more serious wave of thinking than had yet prevailed.

The documents listing suggestions about what was needed to ensure peace were still being prepared but key issues had emerged—no surprises there—and while any large solution remained a matter of hope there were a lot of constituent issues that could be discussed. Yes, cross-border trade was needed, in both directions, but in what, exactly? And where did those old rules about building wharves on the Vassa come from? Who, if anyone, was responsible for maintaining the Smiskir road? What rights did fiefs or clans have to vary tariffs set in Corus or Hamrkeng? Throughout the hall there were people who had answers but Kel thought the more valuable thing was questions that didn't yet have any. In particular, what happened if the Craftsbeings' Guild traded directly across a border, rather than through merchants? And what arrangements would apply to flying immortals—griffins, stormwings, perhaps dragons—who might as readily fly north of the Vassa as south of it? Those weren't going to be answered this evening, but Kel did get Jonathan, Turomot, Harald, and Idrius into real discussion about how the Guild might best be legally understood in Corus and Hamrkeng, and the rights and privileges of its members.

Thayet's arrival had other effects, besides mellowing Jonathan. Her presence insisted on the seriousness of negotiations but shifted the atmosphere from military to more open debate and, in some measure, festival. Women in the queen's party helped; so did the changing shape of daily life as rooms carved in the cliffs were occupied while ploughing continued up and down the valley, and sprawling, ever increasing bustle overran military dispositions. New Hopers rejoiced in not needing guards for every step outside the walls, and the watch remained skeletal, though Kel and Vanget, via Giantkiller, had screening patrols out. Peace might not be secured but was staking a claim, civilian greenery wrapping military stone.

Other arrivals mattered too. Daine could deal with animal injuries too serious for Zerhalm,

including some to Scanran ponies. Lindhall Reed and Bonedancer had escorted Daine in her pregnancy, and the flying fossil was another strike at Scanran susceptibilities. Its invulnerable, friendly disregard of propriety made it another wondrous visitor, beady-socketed discipline of Junior after he tried to assert the superiority of feathered flight made it impressive, and after a darking had (as Lindhall apologetically explained) shown it the dance of corpses, whenever it saw Kel out in the valley it would glide to perch on her shoulder, clattering its beak curiously at Ebony. Nari wasn't happy to be displaced, and took to perching on its head until it flapped away again, but the picture Kel made on Alder's back with its head rising above hers was one that sank deep. A very pregnant Buri also arrived, to Raoul's relief and delight, and would stay until she was delivered.

Having agitated mightily by spellmirror, and with Kel's laughing consent, Owen was also allowed to come from Northwatch and took less than an hour to pronounce Scanrans very jolly fellows now they weren't invading anything. His presence pushed Kel to arrange a private evening with fellow knights—Roald, Neal, Prosper, and Wyldon, who'd taught them all—and lay down her burden concerning the dead; whimsically enough, it was Lord Sakuyo's feast day. Merric and Seaver could be grieved; Garvey, Quinden, and Vinson—not that he'd been a knight —were another matter, and behind them loomed Joren. Each had made choices and objectively Kel didn't see why she should feel guilty about them; subjectively she was oppressed by their faces in dreams, living and—as she alone had seen all of them save Joren—dead, and was horribly aware she'd killed or buried half her year. Facts wouldn't change, but Wyldon and Neal were unconcerned to find themselves in agreement that she bore no blame, and their unity was a flicker of the improbable she found comforting. Owen's grey eyes rested on her wisely.

"It's just like you to feel bad for them, Kel, but they don't deserve it. Merric'd tell you it was nonsense and it is. We can well do without those bullies and their mentors. Now they're gone we can all be prouder of being knights—remembering Merric and Seaver too. I know I am."

When she thought about it Kel was too, and a sense of having restored to her dream of knighthood something of the honour others had smirched, hating her for nothing she'd done, was more than balm; it was healing. She hadn't broken the code of chivalry, which reckoned no more of a thousand battlefield deaths than one, and had a conviction that her rape, echoing the contempt for women Joren and the traitor knights had all felt, was part of a pattern that had seen, if not justice done, a better future assured. The evening helped her mood, though the roadway could still welter in blood and coruscate with dragonfire if she didn't make her eyes impose on memory its cleaned lines and the sunlit harmlessness of Chargy and his friends.

Better still, Kel's mother arrived with Anders. She'd waited to receive news from Yaman and was bubbling not only for her youngest daughter but because her eldest would be coming. Sitting in Kel's rooms with Piers, Dom, and Tobe, she drank tea and waved letters.

"The Yamanis won't come for the treaty signing—His Imperial Majesty doesn't think it's properly His business—but he's sending Prince Eitaro, no less, to witness your marriage, with Lord Kiyomori and Takemahou-sensei in official capacities, and he asked Patricine and Toshuro to accompany Keiichi. You couldn't keep the girls away with a stick, and I've told Avinor if he doesn't pull his nose out of his books for once I'll come and get him myself, so we'll have you all together." She beamed, even Conal's absence filled by the thought of having her children assembled for the first time since—Kel had to think—Patricine's wedding, when Kel was a child. "You must let Yuki know Keiichi's coming, Kel sweeting, and tell Shinko about the delegation. Lots of bowing. The only worry is that no-one likes the look of the Copper Isles and Rittevon messes tend to export trouble."

"I don't think this one will, Mama. And I'll bet the Rittevons will be gone before the end of summer. We just need to take any opportunity that offers to give them a shove—accept

refugees, threaten to cut off trade if Tortallan or Yamani traders are threatened, that sort of thing. Emperor Kaddar should do the same—I've been working on the Hag. Then we'll all be on the Crooked God's good side, too."

"Sweeting?"

"She's been saying things like that for a while, love. I don't quite understand her sense of what's happening, but it's been very persuasive so far. You're one of Sakuyo's Blessed too. I find squinting helps myself."

"Piers!"

"What? Assuming the Rittevons are going to fall, which George has been saying for years they're ripe to do, Kel's advice was sound. I'll write to His Imperial Majesty with proper caution. End of summer, Kel?"

"Yes. It's raka business and revolution's summer work. Talk to Barzha for shrewd guesses—she's in touch with the kudarung."

"I shall."

"Kel sweeting, I obviously have a lot of catching up to do, but I refuse to be flummoxed. You're getting married and everyone will be here—Anders is scouting for Vorinna and Tilaine, as well as wanting to see you, and your grandma's planning her trip. What are you looking so concerned about?"

"Accommodation." Kel sighed. "I thought I had it sorted but with Patricine and Toshuro— and their children?—and Avinor and Grandma and whatever horde she brings it's unsorted again."

"Oh sweeting, it'll be alright. We can bunk down in the caves."

"You and four hundred soldiers and fifty ogres and gods alone know how many servants. It's all very well laughing, Mama, but not a month ago I was seriously considering lodging Grandma and the rest up the cliff. The ogre lads were willing to do the hauling for Guild credit."

She had to explain that, then take her mother and Anders to see the hoist. After a long moment staring at contraption and cliff Ilane's voice came out hollow.

"Kel, sweeting, you seriously thought about lodging your Grandma at the top of this

cliff?"

"She's got to go somewhere but I didn't think you'd approve. And I've had Oakbridge summoned so he can explain to her why Fanche Miller will have precedence except at the wedding itself, or maybe not even there, I'm not sure. But you'll probably have to explain it too."

Ilane stared again and dissolved into laughter. She was far too polite to howl with it but she did reach a point where she helplessly slapped her leg and Kel stared in disbelief. This was ridiculous.


	32. Chapter 30

Benison

Chapter Thirty — Benison

16 April – 1 May

On the ides of April Barzha reported a large party on the Smiskir road, and at Kel's request warned the smugglers they had unlikely business. The weather was improving but a swollen Vassa demanded experienced boatmen. Kel had had several large, simple shelters constructed by the Scanran encampment with stone excavated from the cliffs, and felt relieved at the prospect of getting underway.

The shelters weren't any kind of luxury but would keep Stenmun and whoever he was bringing dry—and their horses, a real concern with every stable overcrowded. Harald had been astonished, assuring her it wouldn't be expected, but negotiating with damp men not getting enough sleep wasn't what Kel had in mind. Once he understood she was serious and had the means to construct as well as excavate at far higher speeds than he was used to he became helpful, with many of his men. Kel wanted these structures removed once their purpose was fulfilled, so ogres undertook wall-building, fitting ashlar so tightly not even a knife could be forced between blocks; the roof was cloth thin enough to admit light, stretched over poles for basilisks to petrify. The result was a stunted barn with peculiar half-light and a much lower-pitched roof than seemed right, but the Scanrans whistled at what interspecies co-operation could manage and set about dividing interiors. Shaking heads at technique the ogres joined in, and by the time they were done the shelters were a sight any traveller would welcome, better than many Crown wayhouses—as Kel pointed out to Vanget. The fact that those using them would wake to see New Hope's walls rising against the fin didn't hurt either, and wasn't lost on him.

Kel's handfasting and wedding guests, so far as they were distinct, were due at month's end or in June, but remaining Councillors except Sir Myles, holding several forts in Corus with George and Prince Liam, had ridden in over the last week, including Duke Gareth, Lady Maura, and Lord Ferghal. Padraig and the pages also trooped in, eagerness tempered by awe and deftly harnessed by Kel with a speech that had both Wyldon and Neal shaking heads. The tests were held, Kel standing with Anders and her parents to see Lachran pass and his delight at the immediate offer from Imrah. Other squirings were sorted unusually rapidly, including Alan's with Raoul, and pleased fourth years joined their juniors in doing what pages did—serving, fetching, carrying, running errands, and bunking off to explore and chatter. Kel was fascinated to meet Lady Maura but Lord Ferghal was the one who mattered.

The haMinchi clanchief was taller and broader than his brother, a more ponderous presence though his face was just as mobile. Despite all he'd heard and could see he was genuinely concerned to assess Kel, and she'd spoken with Vanget at length about what was needed. With so many bodies everywhere and constant demands on her Kel had no time to give him a tour, and they'd have been for ever tripping over people anyway, but she ruthlessly consigned Gareth to his fellow Councillors and gave Lord Ferghal dinner privately, with Dom, Tobe, and Vanget. She had to use the council room, with food brought by Gydo, Loesia, and friends, but Ferghal appreciated what she was doing. Policies were in the air and he was there to help hammer them out, but needed to know who she was beneath her ballooning legend—what drove his powerful new neighbour, and the quality of her words and mind. Elemental, gods, and immortals had between them made her vision of what passed in the mortal realm horribly complicated, but she was frank about that, Vanget had been talking to his brother, and Ferghal had

enough experience of the City of the Gods not to take exception to strange views of the divine. In private as unconcerned with honorifics as his brother, he had no doubt gods were at work, and wanted to know what she thought.

"The gods answer when they want, Ferghal, not when I ask, and there's far more I don't understand than I do. But I think I know this. The Chaos Uusoae released during the Immortals War didn't vanish when she was defeated and Ozorne fell. She'd touched immortals and had dealings with some of Ozorne's mages, tainting them in ways that bothered the gods and caused trouble here. I don't know if Maggur was tainted too—I think he just saw a way of taking advantage, and that Blayce was only what he seemed, a mage with a nasty talent and no conscience—but one way or another there was Chaos building up in Scanra that the gods wanted gone." She sat back, swirling juice. "This bit's tricky and I mean no offence, but Chaos was able to gather partly because Tortall's neglected its north. Our poverty, by Corus standards, and reliance on reluctant southern money for everything beyond survival have added up. And the further north, the more marginal the land."

"No offence in that, Keladry. The Scanrans eat grass when the harvest fails and we've come near it. You're saying Maggur and Chaos could get a grip in Scanra because they're hungry and we've ignored that, as the Contés and those useless southern lords you've just decimated have been ignoring—no, enforcing—the poverty of the north."

Kel winced but nodded. "The fire was sparked outside but we had stuff that would burn everywhere, and it has. That's our opportunity."

"Fire clearance?"

"Say rather, hot metal can bend, and for whatever reasons the gods gave me a hammer."

"And you gave yourself a place to use it." Vanget looked at his brother. "I told you, Fer— Kel's not thinking about the next ten years or even thirty. She's thinking about the next hundred. Talking to beings thousands of years old does things to your perspective."

"Is that right, Keladry?" Ferghal quirked heavy eyebrows, like a bear turning in its sleep. "And what does it mean in practical terms?"

"I'm not sure, but we were talking about gods, and … this is no more than guessing, but I think that while they're not concerned as they were with Uusoae's legacy, they are in a benign mood, and if we try to do the right thing they'll lend a hand. Or bless us anyway. I suppose it comes down to thinking big, for all of us, Scanrans too. Jonathan wants a wall along the border, haMinches anchoring one end and Mindelans the other, and has got the idea the southern lords need another counterweight—he told me so when he was waving his hands around extending New Hope from South Bend to Steadfast."

Ferghal laughed. "He told me that too by way of persuading me he hadn't gone entirely mad. So you think we need to, what? Be willing to push for some bigger opportunity than the trade stuff and Corus–Hamrkeng contacts mooted so far?"

"Yes. Let me show you something."

The night was mild, with a waxing gibbous moon, and she took them to the Eyrie, walking with Dom and Tobe to let Vanget talk to his brother. The surprised sentry had nothing to report and she introduced him to Ferghal before letting her guest look up and down the valley, dotted with lights, and over the intervening ridges to the glow of Riversedge. The moon was bright, inky woods over ridges, and crags gleaming harmony with the distant Vassa forcing its way to the sea.

"Do you see the contradiction, Ferghal? Jonathan didn't, when he was creating a New Hope he can think of as his own invention."

Vanget barked a laugh. "You're reading him very well, Kel. Alanna'll like that one. What contradiction d'you mean?"

"He started by saying the Greenwoods valley was a natural fief, from Great North to Frasrlund roads. Three breaths later the Brown River was a natural boundary. And he never even thought to question that river as a natural boundary." Her hand sketched the sweep of the Vassa valley, clearer from this height than ever from the ground. "Yes, it's big, and divides territory. But so does the Greenwoods and we need both sides of that. We don't need a wall. We need a … I don't think there's a word, a society of the Vassa valley to connect with the Berint."

"Huh." Ferghal nodded slowly. "Alright, I think I understand what you're driving at. But the Vassa's not as navigable as the Olorun or Drell—too fast and cold, too many rapids."

"I know, though the lower reaches could be used more, and the Scanran ones. But there's the Frasrlund and Vassa roads, and no reason settlements on either side can't have a rope-ferry or boat service—those smugglers I used to get to Rathhausak make a living and they're not the only ones working the river."

"Hardly. Van was right about you. Not that I doubted you, Van, but you were telling very tall tales. I expect you're right about the gods, Keladry, and they'll do what they do. What I think is, they chose well, very well, in you, and it's clear you've grown with it. Must hurt, the rate they've forced you to grow—or you've forced yourself, if Van's right about that too. Either way, we've common ground, and I'll sleep tonight with more hope than I had last for my grandson's days. Can't ask more."

He offered a thick hand and Kel took it, knowing what it meant. They'd shaken hands when they first met, but that had been ritual; this stated and demanded trust, and for Ferghal to offer it to a girl not yet of age, with lands to match his own thrust on her by a whirl of events beyond mortal comprehension, took her breath away. He shook Dom's and Tobe's hands too, close family as implicit in that trust as she, and they went down talking of how New Hope was organised and practically of what the negotiations would require.

That night Kel's dreams were unusually sunny and cheerful, Yamani blossom drifting across the Vassa, and she woke feeling that she was at least barking up the right tree. The feeling was with her as she rode down to meet Stenmun Gunnarsson. She had Uinse and an honour guard but nothing more—the Scanrans answered her summons under blódbeallár and though it was a fiction it mattered. She'd given them an hour to sort themselves out and learn from Harald what had happened since Stenmun had ridden into the night; now she went to discover who had come with what purpose or hope. Stenmun was waiting, Harald at his side and newcomers beyond. Fierce eyes above cropped or braided beards surveyed her as she dismounted, but she was as tall as any of them and gave a collective nod as her attention turned to Stenmun.

"Stenmun Gunnarsson, Clan Somalkt, you come ahead of your word. Did you secure the hostages you rode to save?"

"We did, Protector. All are safe in their clanhomes and bards make songs of Maggur Reidarsson's end and the Protector's power and mercy. I am charged to offer you the thanks of many husbands and fathers."

"They're welcome, Stenmun. I offer thanks also, for the honour and helpfulness of your men. They have done much."

"So I see and hear, Protector. And I must thank you for these shelters, beyond our expectation."

She smiled at him. "I thought dry bedding and space to think might be a help. Whom have you brought that the truce may become more?"

His smile was complicated. "Once I might have said the Council of Ten, but it is presently a Council of Eight, Sven Bjornsson and Maggur Reidarsson having been plucked from their seats. Still, the Eight are here, and recognising much may change a dozen more clanchiefs, to witness and that their voices may be called on."

Kel wasn't sure whether to swallow or dance, and let him introduce the rulers of Scanra, meeting eyes and shaking hands. If pressure was exerted she exerted it back while she tried to sift minds and attitudes. It wasn't as one would expect—the remaining Council members had been too powerful for Maggur to ignore, yet cowed, while the lesser chiefs included at least three she thought might soon be added to the Eight, including a man Stenmun introduced as his clanchief, Ragnar Ragnarsson of Somalkt. But that was Scanran business, and she shifted to brisker mode.

"Councillors and chiefs of Scanra, you answer blódbeallár but know as well as I it is a means to an end, and the end peace, now and for all our children's lives. Beltane nears, but we cannot rush to failure." It was late in the day and she could see older men feeling the riding they'd done. "Rest after your journey. Food awaits, and my guard have copies of documents for you to consider—a plan of the valley, indicating where immortals dwell, and a list of things your men and my people hope may come to pass, whose origin Harald can explain. Tomorrow, look about. If you come unarmed and pass the Honesty Gate you have the freedom of New Hope. King Jonathan and Queen Thayet, the Crown couple, and our Councillors will be available to meet but not yet to argue. That will begin the day after, two hours past dawn. Do any object?"

Stenmun seemed to be spokesman and Kel noted whose eyes he met in swift enquiry before shaking his head.

"That is well, Protector. Your goodwill is again appreciated."

"I want my children and grandchildren to live in peace, Stenmun, so I will do everything in my power— everything—to ensure we do not fail to forge a treaty that will last. And while as she who called blódbeallár on Maggur Reidarsson I could by right moderate these negotiations, I am sworn to King Jonathan and the House of Conté, which is awkward."

Stenmun flashed a smile. "There is that."

"So I have asked another to moderate, beyond all mortal bias. Lady Kawit Pearlscale, a wyrm of more than seventy centuries, arrives tomorrow, and with her Lady Skysong, a draca in her first century, whom she teaches. Lady Kawit will moderate and the griffins attend, that all speak truth."

That news hit hard and an older man among the Eight she'd marked as one who'd blown easily with Maggur's wind cried out.

"Wyrm and draca? Do you think us simple, woman?"

Kel wasn't conscious of having done anything but saw him step back as she spoke. "You think them fables, Councillor? Think again, for you will speak with Lady Kawit tomorrow, and will find she cares no more for angry bluster than griffins. Or than I for witless discourtesy."

He was mottled with anger—and fear—but others, men she thought the powers here, were

concealing smiles. She left them, promising to return in the morning to answer questions and facilitate requests. Riding back she found Uinse in high good humour at her "dressin'-down of the blotchy cove", and discovered she was pleased herself. After Torhelm, Tortallans—Guisant and Runnerspring excepted—had given up addressing her with crude disrespect and she saw no reason not to slap it down in Scanrans. But she had, she realised, said nothing about Freja's grave, and resolved to do so tomorrow. Perhaps no-one cared—none among the soldiers had claimed any relation—but the point should be made.

Entering New Hope she faced voluble demands from Jonathan and assorted Councillors for names and assessments of who had come. She blunted curiosity, Ebony providing images and Gareth condensing what she said into a crib sheet, before declaring herself in need of food and politely suggesting they practice containing themselves. Dom wasn't there but Anders was, with her parents, and taking his arm she set off for the messhall dragging everyone behind her. She'd seen Wyldon, Raoul, Alanna, Roald and others smiling as they chivvied a less amused Blue Harbour and Disart, and was content with that but disconcerted to find Anders shaking with the laughter he was holding in.

"Little sister, that was priceless. Just like Mother when she wanted us all like ducklings behind her and no messing about. Inness would laugh too. And Patricine—I am looking forward to seeing her. She'll like your Dom as well, as I do—you've a good man there."

"I know, Anders. And if I'm becoming like Mama I'm not repining. You could say all this started the day those raiders came and I was with her when she rescued the swords. It's not been easy following her."

"I don't suppose it has, Kel. Is that what you've been doing all these years, trying to rescue the swords of law and duty yourself?"

"In a way. I can hear that lady-in-waiting who died—what was her name? She was noh Takanuji. Anyway, she said, The short sword is the sword of law. Without it, we are only animals. The long sword is the sword of duty. It is the terrible sword, the killing sword. I've never forgotten, and I liked the idea of duty as a killing sword even before seeing Mama kill those raiders and getting covered in blood. Scanran blood, but it's only now I've really understood what she meant about duty and it took more Scanran and Tortallan blood than you'd believe. I think Lord Sakuyo was watching that day and filed my thought away."

"Do you, Kel? That's another of your odd ideas, I suppose, but I think I know what you mean. We should talk after dinner—we've barely had a chance with you being so busy, but I do admire New Hope, and if I don't have a clear sense of what you want for your wedding to report Vorinna will never forgive me."

"I'd like that. We'll cut out to my rooms. No-one but Tobe and Dom'll be there—and actually he's on duty, so he won't be either."

They did slip away, leaving King and Councillors to speculate about things they'd soon know, and as at Mindelan Kel found it was Anders more than anyone she needed to talk to. She could narrate the siege as she'd seen it, the feel of mageblasts and dragonscale in her hand; her terror and prayers as much to Conal's spirit as Lord Sakuyo when she ran the fin, and her sense of flying beside Junior; weltered blood and tumbling limbs, and the lack of them with dragonfire; the terrible impact of stormwing fear and its similarity to the elemental's tests; her guilt and shame, even the amelioration of it Dom's love brought.

"Gods, yes, Kel, that doesn't change. After Conal's death I couldn't wait to be with Vorinna. I don't know what to say to the rest, except I'm proud of you, more than I can say, and grateful, for Mindelan and Tortall. You know Father is too? He's … I don't know, piously

bemused, I suppose, at the gods' attention but bursting with pride. I saw it when I became a knight, and when Inness did, and you've always had a special place in his heart."

"I don't mean to worry him with things I say, Anders. Or anyone."

"But you've been pushed about by the gods so much you're getting a sense of their rhythm."

"Yes. So much has burned away—literally—that what's left seems quite clear. For a moment, sometimes. And there are things I know that I can't talk about."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't—not my secrets to tell. But it's only putting together what immortals who can sense the timeway are willing to say. Diamondflame, mostly, but Quenuresh, Barzha, and Cloestra."

"Is it? I could hardly make sense of Mother when she arrived, saying you'd left on a dragon and Runnerspring had tricked the king."

"Does she think that? It's not true, Anders—Jonathan tricked Runnerspring and gambled on me, not that he understood what risks he was running. One thing I'd like to know is whether he had advice from His Imperial Majesty—maybe it's another of those things I say, but I've been wondering if Lord Sakuyo might have tried a discreet push."

They were interrupted by Dom's arrival as his shift ended, but it was equally satisfying for Kel to listen to lover and favourite brother forge friendship. Anders at least would never question Dom's lameness, and she found herself wondering how his own might play into, or against, her perception of a halt quartet while Baird had laved her throbbing foot. Wedding plans were more fun if she didn't worry about how crowded everything would be. And familial domesticity seemed as much as her stolen meeting with Lalasa a proper prelude to negotiations—it was what they'd be negotiating for and it was good to be reminded of it.

She went to see the Council of Eight and clanchiefs next morning as promised, and one did acknowledge Freja Haraldsdottir so she went with him to Haven while others began a day of wandering discovery. First priority seemed to be an account of the siege from Stenmun, Harald, and others, with much gesturing at rockfalls—already partly rebuilt—roadway, and skulls. By late morning they'd progressed south to gape at toiling basilisks, ogres, Tortallans, and Scanrans creating accommodation while visitors already quartered there picked their way back and forth. There were courtiers, nobles, knights, squires, observers of all degree from Riversedge and Bearsford, and servants, all busy as bees and surrounded by Scanrans anyway so what difference did another score make? Kel was careful not to laugh at the discomfiture of some of the Eight at how little notice anyone took of them, and found her eyes caught with shared amusement by Harald and Ragnar Ragnarsson, whose father, Stenmun told her quietly, had died at the Bloody Plains and who had been excluded from his place on the Council of Ten. She'd marked Ragnar as one she didn't think would be excluded much longer, and after she restored collective dignity by offering lunch managed a discreet conversation eliciting his views of the Eight.

Entering New Hope meant Honesty Gate declarations and formal introductions, to New Hope's council and King-in-Council. The notes Kel had given the Scanrans included their own crib sheet, with Quenuresh's dimensions, so whatever the nerves there were no surprises but she did see the eyes of a couple of the Eight spark with interest at the order of protocol, and spoke to them about the weird and wonderful things that happened when legal fictions were observed to a nicety—the King being the King, of course, but having come in-Council as a guest inspecting a putative fief, while she as wartime commander had called the truce on behalf of the children of

New Hope, whose council were the hosts. Both were interested, and Thayet overheard, agreeing with a dazzling smile that fictions made so many things oddly possible. Talk evolved into a royal invitation to dine, where although Kel's people were providing food royal servants would wait and Kel would be her monarchs' guest. One reason for desiring Thayet's presence had been to have a social host and she happily left the queen to it, dropping in on other conversations as she made her way out. After lunch there was no escaping a partial tour, but she had a spectacle for all to witness, and drew everyone back down the roadway to see ogres build a low circular wall twenty feet across, not far from where the trebuchet had stood and Maggur died. They used finstone basilisks broke and shaped from the remains of casts, and when they were done Numair swirled a matching circle of water from the swollen Greenwoods, froze it, and held it in place while Var'istaan turned it to rockice. Others were driving poles and spreading cloth in a canopy for petrification over what had become a great circular table.

"Our negotiating venue. And our moderator."

She'd ridden out to meet Kawit the previous day, and Kitten had been amused to be asked to participate in an invisibility spell. Kawit had been amenable to making an entrance, and the effect as an eighteen-foot wyrm and attendant draca, however small, glimmered into view, inspecting the table with approval, was worth the effort. The man who'd mocked her yesterday went dead white and every Scanran tensed. Ragnar Ragnarsson turned to her.

"The little one is truly draca?"

"She is, Ragnar. Dragons don't fledge for several centuries. Lady Skysong is an orphan in the Godborn's care, studying with Lady Kawit."

He sighed. "I had heard but not believed. It is as if I step from nightmare into fable." His voice dropped. "I would thank you for Maggur Reidarsson's death. My father rests better for it."

"I imagine many do, Ragnar, but we must be sure his grandchildren live better also. And we've something else we should do. Follow my lead?"

The griffins were circling down to greet Kawit and Kitten and see the table, and Kel led everyone down to be introduced. The griffins only stared, as usual, though they did give the royals regal nods, but Kawit spoke in a mindvoice all could hear and the shiver in all spines was very satisfactory. Kawit introduced the griffins with full, incomprehensible names, inducing another set of regal nods, and, dryly observing it might save time later, invited all to try to utter untruth. Primed by Kel, Ragnar stood forward but after the usual stranglings into silence suddenly roared a laugh, and spoke in Scanran.

"It is true! All will be bound to truth alone. So tell me now, Lars Jonsson, before these immortal lords, if you bore false witness against my father? Deny it here in plain words and I will believe you."

The atmosphere went from wonder-strained to cracklingly tense in a second, but Jonsson was the man who'd mocked her and Kel could see others of the Eight were interested. As it became plain Jonsson couldn't deny it faces hardened and a sharp signal from one of the men who'd enjoyed her protocol had two burly clanchiefs escorting him to the encampment, looking ever smaller between them. The signaller was lord of the lands round Hamrkeng, and he considered Kel and the King before speaking Scanran as if they weren't there.

"You have seized a moment, Ragnar Ragnarsson, and the Council sees. But you have done it to our disadvantage. Explain yourself."

"Jorvik Hamrsson, how could it be our advantage to have a man who bore false witness to

murder a clanchief speaking for us? Before wyrm, draca , and griffin I claim my father's place, my own by right, making good the Council's loss. You lose a liar and gain one who will speak truth."

Glances flickered and Hamrsson nodded. "We do." Kel saw Stenmun clench his fist in triumph as Hamrsson switched to Tortallan. "Forgive us, Protector—a little housekeeping. The table is admirable and Lady Kawit a choice beyond hope. We thank the lord and lady griffin also for their grace of truth. And we have business we must attend, if you will excuse us?"

"Of course, Jorvik Hamrsson. I will see you at Her Majesty's feast this evening, where we may continue our interesting talk of fictions."

His eyes flashed amusement as he nodded gravely. "Until then." Raoul drifted to Kel's side. "If you don't like the odds, change 'em?"

She smiled grimly. "Not really, Raoul—more a longshot. Jonsson was the last willing loyalist, I think—we're down to bullied and coerced. And once they get over their immediate discomfort it'll make things easier."

I agree, Protector. The griffins say he blazed with lies, but the others seem more open. They desire a real settlement, I believe. It is some of your countrymen who still think in much smaller terms.

The mindvoice was for her alone but her reply couldn't be. "Oh, I know, Kawit." Kel gestured to the table. "But you need small stuff, all interlocked, before you put weight on it."

Kawit's hissing laugh brought stares but Raoul just looked at Kel and then at the table, and began to grin.

In many ways the negotiations were a protracted anticlimax. Everyone knew war had decisively ended, wanted a peace treaty they could live with, and saw no reason they couldn't have one. The presence of Kawit, endlessly courteous but unmoved by rhetoric, especially when not backed by facts, prevented extravagant posturing, and the griffins, stock still on opposite sides of the table save when they prowled a semi-circle to exchange places, kept people truthful, so a great deal was achieved in a low-key, incremental way. Kel couldn't blame Jonathan for using the threat of reparations, though the griffins meant he had to word implications carefully and she thought Hamrsson had worked out he was prepared to forgo them long before he let himself be coaxed into doing so. But it worked well as a stick, became a carrot at need, and in its surrender secured a tranche of agreements. Ambassadors would be exchanged by Hamrkeng and Corus, with a spellmirror relay to pass messages. There would be visits by Senior Persons in both directions to foster knowledge, any wolfship raiding Tortall would find itself arrested on its return, and Jonathan would sponsor an urgent meeting between the Council of However Many and His Imperial Majesty to stop Scanran piracy directed at the Islands. There would be food—southern Tortallan grains and durable fruits, in greater quantity when northern harvests were poor, and at a price less than Tortallans might want but within Scanran means.

As things dragged into a second week Kel took a more active role. The weather wasn't helpful, drizzle falling often with a fitful, chill breeze, so she spent time introducing small comforts. Basilisks heated blocks, whose warming glow was appreciated by older backs and

knees, and a fire with a cauldron never more than a moment from the boil was a different kind of boon. Trays of fingerfood with Yuki's moorish pickles and dips made regular appearances. The loan of New Hope equipment enabled the Scanrans to return hospitality, at tables set up on a thankfully dry night under awnings strung from their shelters. Other evenings of goodwill surrounded long days with a buzz of social exchange and ripening friendships. And in case anyone should forget what mattered, children, mortal and immortal, were in constant attendance, despite frequent dullness. The fact that Irnai was always present, seated with Kitten between Kawit's forepaws, leaning against the opal dragon's hot chest, did no harm either.

As a swamp of details was waded through Kel started nudging more pointedly and occasionally bearing down. The bigger picture, dropped from her considerable height, had a way of making pettier lines being drawn look unimportant, and even dearly held grievances might waver. Occasional sharper force might also work wonders, and she got cross enough with Disart's insistence on protecting his profit on the rye needed for black breads that would keep she threatened to recoup it thrice over in prices for icelights, webbing, and the Guild extension to his summer dwelling he'd been so eager about. He wavered, Macayhill laughed at his notorious tight-fistedness with a familiar joke that made him scowl, Kawit fixed him with an enquiring stare, and he crumbled. Kel gave equally short shrift to Scanrans trying to extend the concession to wheat, pointing out reparations had been forgone, not reversed, and even -handedly rebuked anyone who forgot it was children's lives that were at stake, not the immediate health of pockets.

Fifty niggling problems and recalcitrant details were picked through, hammered out, or swept aside, but Kel could see the holes being left. Scanrans had no model for local treaties with immortals, and while positive reactions to basilisks and ogres among men who'd been exposed to them at New Hope were potent, and would spread good word when they returned to clanhomes and villages, newer arrivals still had visceral feelings. The sheer, intimidating bulk of Quenuresh didn't help, and her soft-spoken explanations of what might and might not work provided too many things needing effort and not enough certainty. The Scanrans might be able to see how powerful a tool cooperation could be but also knew how villagers confronted with immortals would react. Despite Kel's arguments and corrections of fact by Kawit no clanchief was willing to go beyond a promise to see what might be done, and no putative contract for basilisk stonework had been signed.

To the clanchiefs caution with the unknown was only sensible, and the greater the wonder, the stronger the testimony of men who'd been at the battle, the more they could feel New Hope was a special case, astounding and very interesting—in its place, which fortunately or otherwise was Tortall. The same reactions St'aara had reported from Tortallan villagers were cited— quarrymen and builders would be out of work; people would panic, and offer violence; shamans would object: all the guises fearful prejudice took. Guild members were welcome to visit clanhomes to make their case, but in Scanran minds immortals were creatures of war and disruption—as dragons were eald uhtsceatha, whatever Kawit and Kitten were like. Having played on those fears Kel couldn't complain but knew what was being agreed wasn't enough and left an ugly question hanging over a border—her border—where a fief full of immortals would meet Scanran territory. Sooner or later there'd be a Scanran Gothas with someone dead or injured, and without authority to come down hard consequences would spiral.

In a way the whole treaty was hollow—a tracery of agreements circling the commitments of Corus and Hamrkeng to talk and trade, like hoops around a stick with no spokes to make all turn together. As Beltane loomed the weather improved, showers giving way to high, scudding clouds and blue sky. Fields were full of shoots, ogre numbers meant a still steeper slope had been terraced, retaining walls striping the valleyside like the risers of steps for the gods, and the southern cliff boasted a basilisk-and-ogre house that delved deep and high into the rock; four full stories of windows speckled the limestone with dark oblongs by day and patches of light by night. It was all so hopeful, but to Kel murmured of gaping spaces within what looked solid.

In her heart she knew what was needed but quailed at what it would mean for her life, and that of the eldest girl among the brood she and Dom liked imagining. But she had to see through what she'd started, and with two days to Beltane, the bulk of the treaty complete and formally copied, and warning from Mastiff that Inness and her sisters-in-law would arrive tomorrow, she sorted out maps she needed and spread the first before the Eight, now including Ragnar Ragnarsson. They clustered round and she addressed Jorvik Hamrsson.

"So—the treaty is done, and you are all content with it?"

He nodded cautiously. "I believe so, Protector. We have achieved more than I thought possible."

"Well and good. Blódbeallár remains. Who is lord of Rathhausak?"

Tension was palpable and Jorvik's voice went to flat neutrality. "The lord of Rathhausak is dead at your hand."

"Not so. Maggur Reidarsson died the stormwing death he deserved." Her smile was thin. "I can't say I planned it, and Stenmun Gunnarsson can tell you of the need to tear Ættrengar from his lips, but I realise it leaves room to say the terms of blódbeallár are unfulfilled—for if he had died by my glaive I could claim clan and land."

"By blódbeallár."

She changed tack. "Show me the land that was Maggur's."

"Clanlands are not fixed like fiefdoms, Protector. We hunt as much as grow, and men go where they must for game. Lands overlap."

"Roughly, then. He held the Pakkai valley?"

"Yes."

"And what happened where it meets the Smiskir?"

"Part of that also, south of Clan Swithtrem."

"And had responsibility for maintaining the Smiskir road?

"Not that he fulfilled it."

"But someone must, if we are to trade. Who holds the Smiskir valley to the Vassa, and the lands of the Vassa to the south-west?"

He shrugged. "None, Protector. The people there are clanless, like those smugglers you asked to assist our crossing."

"So all this"—she leaned forward, finger tracing a great cone of land, spreading south from the upper reaches of the Pakkai—"lies open to a claim that can be made good?"

He was very tense. "What making good might mean, though …"

"Oh I know. But look." She unrolled another map, northern Tortall at the same scale, and placed them beside one another, finger tracing. "Those are the boundaries of New Hope to be confirmed by His Majesty when he makes the grant in warison, between signing of the treaty and my handfasting before the gods, on Beltane." Tension became frowns. "The King started off

wanting a wall along the border, and he's settled for a buffer zone called New Hope. You have your own zone of unclaimed lands and an abandoned clanhome whose surviving liegers have been under my protection for two years. We all have a treaty based on trade in place of war and roads that should connect but don't because the Great North Road stops and the Smiskir road is little maintained."

Jonathan and the Councillors were peering as well, and he frowned. "What are you suggesting, my Lady?"

"We don't need a wall, sire. We need a bridge. You said you wanted New Hope astride the Great North Road, and extended my boundaries west to do it. But I think I'd like it at my gates." She traced the road from Bearsford to the upper end of the Greenwoods valley, then slid her finger sideways. "I want the road diverted down the valley, so it's that road." She pointed to the trail not five hundred yards away. "Then it becomes the Frasrlund road until it hits the north bend of the border. And there we need a bridge, a real bridge over the Vassa, so it can head across the angle to become the Smiskir road, and run from Corus to Hamrkeng. If the Council of Eight allows my claim under blódbeallár the road will run from Bearsford to the Pakkai in my territory, and New Hope will guard that bridge. As it stands the treaty has no heart—but New Hope can be that heart if you will let it."

Jonathan frown deepened. "I appreciate symbolism, my Lady, but a bridge means guards. I don't want that kind of military commitment."

"New Hope already has them, sire—mortal and immortal—and it's not as if lack of a bridge stops armies getting across. The Vassa inhibits ordinary contact and trade. It doesn't stop invasion."

"Huh."

Jorvik sat forward. "I appreciate this idea, Protector, and we have spoken among ourselves of your claim to Rathhausak. The castle is burned, the village deserted, and as you say you have care of its people already. Your holding land is strange for us, in many ways, but you are a proven warrior, speaking our tongue and wise beyond your years. We will allow your claim. But— Maggur Reidarsson held a seat on the Council before he took the throne, and that is another matter."

"I want no more seats on any councils—two are quite enough."

"So you say now. And in ten years' time?"

"We'll see where we are and think differently if we need."

"Perhaps. I also wonder how you think we may bridge the Vassa. It is not unbridged because of wars or none wanting to cross dryshod."

"I know, but I believe it can be done. There will be only one cost for Tortall or Scanra— the proper building of the road, through this valley, to the Vassa and the lands of Clan Swithtrem. Once built, New Hope will maintain it, but the building needs many hands to be done swiftly."

"What kind of swiftly do you have in mind, my Lady?" Jonathan was now looking more thoughtful than concerned.

"If you agree I'd hope to build the bridge by Midsummer. " "Midsummer? That's … ridiculous."

"What odds would you have given on New Hope being built in a summer? You could call the bridge my bride gift to my fief."

Scanran conversation was buzzing and Jorvik had been listening with the Eight. "I agree with the King. It's ridiculous."

"But will you accept it if it's done?"

He sat back, baffled by her calm, and Jonathan laughed. "Interesting feeling isn't it, Lord Jorvik? Welcome to the Protector's world. If you can build a bridge by Midsummer, Keladry, I'll build my end of the road. And of course what territory you hold beyond my borders isn't really my business, though when—mark it, Lord Jorvik, when—you do have to join the Council of Ten there'll be a score of impossible things to sort out. Still, that'll likely be Roald's business and your son's, Lord Jorvik, not ours—a legacy I'm happy to leave them. Will you and your fellows look to the Smiskir road?"

There were glances and murmurs before Jorvik nodded. "Why not? All here must return that way. If we can cross the Vassa dryshod to do so, we will repair as we go."

Kel sat, legs suddenly weak. All she had to do now was build an impossible bridge. And become a Countess and Clanchief and handfast Dom in two days time, before most of Tortall, half of Scanra, and the gods. The bridge was the easy part.

Beltane dawned bright and clear, newborn May shaking off the last tatters of cloud. With all that would happen there was no early offering, but after glaive practice brought her calm Kel knelt before all seven shrines, asking benison for more than herself. Lord Sakuyo's statue seemed cheery in his niche and the icelights brighter than usual.

Taking pity, Kel had restricted Master Oakbridge's duties to the wedding and made her own dispositions today. Political rankings for treaty signing and creation pretty much sorted themselves, and her guests didn't yet include older kin who believed most fervently in precedence nor a Yamani delegation with odd attitudes to Sakuyo's Blessed. Her siblings or friends weren't going to fuss, so it was only that among her handfasting guests would be the King -in-Council and a clansworth of Scanrans; New Hope's main level had room, even with a Beltane bonfire built on the ranges. The day's rhythm was dictated by needs for the treaty signing to be witnessed by all, Scanran primacy in declaring rule over Rathhausak, Tortallan primacy at her creation, and her own with Dom for the handfasting. But the whole package would be offered together for the gods' blessings, hence the need to invite Scanrans to her handfasting and cram in as many people as possible. There was also the need to jump the fire afterwards, and Kel had visions of people being toasted in the crush, but when Ebony discovered what she was muttering about the darkings offered to form a picture on the western wall for all outside to see. It was as hard to kiss a darking as to hug an ogre but Kel managed, and a second fire in the field would counterweight New Hope's.

At breakfast everyone was self-consciously calm in finery, and there wasn't any hurry, for in Scanran tradition oaths were sworn at noon. Kel spent time with Lalasa, fussing over last touches to yet another border on her kimonos and personal standard. Tomas was with Dom being masculine somewhere, her parents were making sure her older nieces and nephews were introduced to everyone, and Kel was able just to chat, letting her stomach mind its own business.

She'd known Lalasa half her life, and on the foundations of self-defence and the bond forged on Balor's Needle something astonishing had blossomed. Protector's Maids were a manifestation; its heart was a personal tie as absolute as any born of combat and indifferent to rank. Behind a very closed door they had as frank and funny a conversation about men as Alanna had managed, from a very different perspective; it surprised Kel that now she had experience to judge by she found the shamelessness of which matrons were capable in private entertaining. Talk moved on to notions about how Guild and Maids might interact: Kel didn't want the lower city neglected while the wealthy satisfied indulgence, nor to become a charity, and a Guild shop near the Dancing Dove with Maids to assess requests might be just the thing. They were deep in discussion when Tobe came to say everyone was assembling.

The main level was already crowded, hundreds milling about behind the procession forming up. For this Kel was one of the Council and took a place beside her father, who clasped her hand, eyes shining. He alone here had done something similar before, when he'd signed the Yamani treaty in the King's name; otherwise, even for Turomot and Nond, the only thing that came close was the Drell Peace of 435, and that had been a lesser business, with no final battle, only release of hostages, and Kings Ain and Roald never meeting. The Immortals War had ended by thunderclap when gods acted, so one had to go back to Jasson's conquest of Barzun in 378 to find a Tortallan king striding onto a battlefield to sign such a document. Jonathan did it splendidly, arm-in-arm with Thayet, Roald and Shinko behind him, sumptuously dressed. Councillors came behind in fief tunics, or in Lady Maura's case an interesting combination of embroidered tunic and skirts Kel knew Lalasa would note. Other insignia showed above fief sigils—Turomot's as Lord Magistrate, Gareth's as Prime Minister, Padraig's as Training Master, Alanna's as Champion; Raoul bore the Own's crest and Vanget the crossed blades of the army. Behind the King's Council came New Hope's, and a stream of people who now it came to it couldn't quite believe war was vanquished.

The Scanrans were equally striking, Council, clanchiefs, and men in great array. Braids were ornamented with beads of gold and sea-ivory, leather gleamed, and sunlight glinted on the axes of an honour guard. King and Councils flowed into place, others crowded round or lined the roadway, and stormwings perched on roosts Kel had had put up, with basilisks, ogres, spidrens, fossil, centaurs, griffins, and dragon kit in a block. The centaurs had braceleted arms and pasterns and braided tails, but others didn't feel they needed any embellishment and were right.

The treaty was far too long to read aloud and both copies had been scrutinised, so only a summary was needed and Kel wasn't giving it. She'd been pressed but said she'd quite enough to do and it was Kawit's job. It might be odd to declare by mindvoice but Kawit had no problem speaking for all to hear, and the effects on those with no experience of being spoken to by a dragon was an excellent cause of gravitas. For those who had it was still impressive but less intimidating; by the end the signing parties were in considerable good humour with one another, and sat at the rockice table. When it was done and King Jonathan and Jorvik Hamrsson each stood holding copies their eyes met and they unhesitatingly stepped up on to the table to shake hands and embrace.

While the silence lasted Kel was simply glad she'd had the table made massive enough to withstand the weight. Then Scanrans clashed arms on chests, once, twice, and the cheering would have lifted the roof if there'd been one. Order dissolved, voices soared, joy spilled into tears, and Kel found herself embraced, backslapped, pummelled, whirled about, and set all but dancing as people—her people—expressed extremity of feeling. The Scanrans had their own reliefs and embraces, and cheerfully joined in, braids flying. Younger immortals were roused, Amourta and Junior whistling dizzily through the air and the young basilisks and Kit looking as if they wished they were built for dancing too. When she saw them, standing with Tobe and Irnai, Kel managed to duck the embrace of an enormous Scanran and make her way to them, drawing her son and Irnai close for a moment, and hugging Amiir'aan as she'd done once before. Kit snuggled onto

her lap, Bel'iira shyly pressed against her leg, and Junior and Amourta too swooped down to be made much of. Even the youngest spidrens, now the size of a platter, came scuttling across with enquiring looks and Kel was sufficiently mellow to love even them, and knew they liked their backs very gently scratched.

"You really are as bad as Daine, you know." Alanna was smiling at her. "That first time at the Swoop it took her less than a day to collect Roald and Kalasin, my three, and what was it first? An osprey, I think. Then a dog, cats, gods know what all trailing her like ducklings. Then bats, I'm told, and owls, though I wasn't there for that bit, and finally a kraken. I'm surprised you didn't recruit it to defend Mindelan."

"I thought about it but Daine said it wasn't a good idea." Alanna dissolved into laughter. "Good call. It was very big." Grandsire says the kraken is very old. Do you think he will come? "I'm not sure, Kitten. Ebony relayed an invitation weeks ago." "You invited Diamondflame?"

"Of course I did, Alanna. And any dragon who'll come. There's unfinished business— don't ask me what, but to do with the skullroad."

"If you say so. Well, dragons will be fun, I'm sure. Anyone else?"

"Daine thinks her parents will come. They can cross on Beltane—that's why she's here, after all."

Alanna cackled. "Maybe we should have conception days as well as birthdays. I could name my children's."

"I couldn't." Kel's arms were round Tobe and Irnai. "But Beltane's always been a day for that, hasn't it, and the real handfasting is Tortall and Scanra."

"With New Hope as their child in attendance already?" Alanna cackled again. "Now there's a metaphor I can tease Jon with. Not that you haven't been doing a good job with walls." She looked down more soberly. "And in case I forget later, Kel, gods all bless. You're a wonder, you know, and you've done so much more than I ever dreamed possible."

She dropped a kiss on Kel's forehead and sauntered off to bemuse someone else. Kel let the children's presence settle her tumbling heart, and cocked her head at Irnai. "Is Lady Shakith saying anything?"

Irnai's eyes seemed to deepen as she thought, or asked, and she smiled that smile no child should have. "She says carry on."

Kel almost rolled her eyes but managed to catch herself, however alarming it was that Shakith seemed to be developing a sense of humour.

"Does she? She's been talking to Lord Sakuyo, I bet. But carry on it is, so I must go and change."

Making her way up the roadway wasn't easy, everyone wanting to congratulate and rejoice with her, but Junior took it on himself to clear her path and small as he was griffins did have a cry even excited mortals found hard to ignore. At the gatehouse Lalasa and Tomas were in

a spot with a perfect view, Jacut and several men preventing anyone from crowding them. After a more welcome embrace they went to Kel's rooms, leaving Tomas with the younglings to enjoy the spectacle.

The skirts of Kel's green kimono were getting crowded but Lalasa had managed to add, outside creamy blue-grey distaff and golden ducal borders, a silver one declaring her a countess in her own right. What the precedent was Kel didn't know but Thayet had been adamant and it didn't look ill. The interrupted conversation about Guild and Maids occupied them while Lalasa added a little make-up and helped Kel into all the layers. Yuki came by on the same mission, and though she'd given up trying to persuade Kel to full face-paint had an omamori for luck and prosperity. Tying it on Kel's wrist she felt the invisible poison bracelet and raised elegant eyebrows.

"You still wear it, Keladry-chan?"

"Oh yes, and the children. I don't think about it much but I'm not ready to relax yet, Yuki. There are a lot of strangers around."

"I suppose. But don't you take it off to sleep? Or with Domitan?" "When we're in bed he's more interested in what he can see, Yuki."

Their laughter was interrupted by Kel's mother, also in kimonos and floating with excited pleasure. Having missed her middle sisters' weddings Kel had never as an adult seen her Mama in mother-of-the-bride mode and her sentiment was contagious. Dom had assuaged a great need and evidence of his desire hadn't left Kel able to continue thinking of herself as she had for so long, but the fact of handfasting was still astonishing to her innermost self, now she came to it. Investiture as a countess was less important to her—a whim of Jonathan's formalising what she'd been doing for two years, though she knew it was more—but to her mother it was an ultimate vindication that made Kel wonder, not for the first time, how many insults she'd endured over the years as The Girl's dam. She took the chance to apologise and offer her thanks for everything but her mother laid a finger to her lips.

"Shh, sweeting. Still always apologising. You're right there were always fools as rude as —I was going to say Scanrans but that won't do any more, will it? Nor as rude as stormwings. We'll have to think of something, but I really don't care because I'm laughing at every one of them today. And just look at you, with all those borders!" As rude as conservatives, Kel thought, and some at least weren't alive to be laughed at but that didn't matter now. "Come on, sweeting— your father's waiting with Tobe and Irnai, and immortals have rounded up the people who need to be in place. Did you arrange that?"

Kel grinned. "I did, or we'd still have been trying to collar them at dusk. It's much harder to say no to an ogre or basilisk. Or Quenuresh."

Ebony took its place, relaying events to darkings spread out on the wall above the thousands of Scanrans and others still on the roadway or in the field, and they went. Her father was also sentimental though his pious streak showed in a consciousness of divine blessings. Bizarrely but undeniably His Grace's consent was required for his underage daughter to accept creation as a countess, though not to declare clanchieftaincy, and she took his arm as they emerged into daylight.

The immortals had been efficient, as had the military, and the main level was as orderly as it was full. The companies, tightly packed, allowed royal family, King's and New Hope Council, and Scanrans—including all Rathhausakers and prisoners-on-oath—to form up before them, with immortals in their usual place, Bonedancer perched on Quenuresh, Kawit looming behind, and

Kel's kin and friends on the far side of the shrines. With so many soldiers to accommodate and all livestock save chickens pastured up valley, Kel had had the railings removed from the pens and the stone scrubbed, adding a large area, but even so the companies reached back around the bonfire to the green and were surrounded by civilians, New Hope's children to the fore. Other visitors, noble or common, had to organise themselves, some opting for alures or shelf, with Peachblossom, Jump and the sparrows, Alder, Hoshi, Butter, and other Daine-touched horses. Every gable seemed to boast a stormwing; on the most northerly steel wings glittered in sunlight spilling over the fin. The shrines were still in shadow and the icelights blazed.

She and her father walked slowly, giving her mother, Yuki, Lalasa, Tobe, and Irnai time to scoot ahead, and slowly silence fell. It was too swamped with goodwill and rejoicing to be tense but everyone became solemn, and that was right in Kel's book—it shouldn't all be laughter. She thought the dead were looking on by the Black God's grace, and today was built on unimaginable loss, whatever else had gone into it. Scanran surprise at her kimonos was evident but their stateliness was right; her path to this moment had begun at a Yamani shrine, before swords of law and duty. Without Naruko's training and the disciplines of Imperial Court life she'd never have endured Wyldon's, nor survived all that had happened—in so far as she had, but that was the gods' business and she no longer feared borrowed time might be abruptly withdrawn. They would not have let it come to this if that had been necessary, and the commitments she was about to make to her people and Dom would be for her natural span, and her daughter's and granddaughter's, on a timeway running smooth and deep after its roil.

She mounted to the terrace beside her father, and as he continued to join the group she turned to the crowd. There was a splendid rudeness to this bit of Scanran tradition that meant she needn't bother with preliminaries but she gentled it by smiling gravely at the Council of Eight and clanchiefs below her and gesturing them to ascend. They came in single file, each his own man, walking as warriors and proven leaders to rank themselves before the shrines, between her and the immortals.

"Clanchiefs of Scanra, know that I, Keladry of Mindelan and New Hope, burned the clanhome of Maggur Reidarsson, Clan Rathhausak. I met him in battle, and took my glaive from his throat only that Queen Barzha Razorwing of the Stone Tree Nation might strike off his head. I did these things because he sold his liegers' children to a nicor and stole mine that he might sell them also. In the name of his liegers who survive in my care, and all of New Hope, I claim the lands of Clan Rathhausak and those between Pakkai valley and Vassa for myself and my heirs. Will you allow my claim, under blódbeallár and of your grace?"

There was no collectivity in this, and one by one they clashed arms on chests to declare they would. Only at the end did Jorvik Hamrsson add that, every man of the Council having recognised her claim, the Council knew her as a clanchief of the nation. There had been voices in favour of a venerable Scanran tradition involving a bull's horn and kegs of mead but Kel had flatly refused, shamelessly using the association with tauroses to cover her dislike of alcohol, and there was instead a grace cup, a tradition of all mortals present. She'd had to have it made, not possessing a suitable krater, and its translucent blue stone marked with fine ripples of wood grain seemed to glow as Irnai and Tobe filled it at the spring and brought it to her. She drank, held it for Tobe to wipe, and passed it to Jorvik, who had an ironic look for the water but in turn held it for Irnai to wield the napkin. When the last man had drunk the children placed the cup before the shrines with bow and curtsey, and Tobe went to Kel's mother, whose arm went around him, while Irnai went to stand in Zerhalm's embrace.

"Fellow clanchiefs"—she'd practiced, amusing Dom, but it sounded absurd—"other ceremonies press on us, but I say to you all three things. First, know the former liegers of Maggur Reidarsson, and Irnai who served you today, led by Zerhalm. They choose to become my liegers."

Her arm indicated them and each chief nodded acknowledgement. There probably wouldn't have been problems but they'd fought Maggur, so it was as well to be unambiguous. What came next was trickier.

"Second, know that while I make no presumption, nor offer any argument, Stanar Petarsson, Clan Somalkt, and all who have with him been prisoners here by gods' oath will always be welcome on my land and in my service." The Scanran for captive also meant slave so she used the Tortallan word. "With peace their oaths are void. I who received them declare it so to all gods." Chimes rang and startlement showed in Scanran faces but Kel only nodded. "I come between no man and his rightful lord, and all men's consciences are their own. I say only, all are welcome here in honour whenever they are free to make that choice."

Stanar thought they'd all be alright in time, after a fight or two, but Kel wasn't going to leave them dangling. They bowed acknowledgement of restored liberties, grinning at one another.

"Third, know that within my lands there will be immortals of many kinds dwelling in peace under treaty. If they break their oaths they will face my justice, and so will any mortal who breaks my peace. I will supply the Council with the names of all immortals abiding under my protection, and they will harm none unless hands are raised against them." That was all that had to be said but as they nodded, Jorvik ruefully, Ragnar with a gleeful grin, she caught Jorvik's eye and spoke softly in Scanran. "You have a proving ground, and there will be curiosity as well as shrieks. Allow those contracts with basilisks to be signed, give it two months, and send observers? Let people see for themselves?"

He smiled slightly. "So it begins. King Jonathan was right. Yes, we will do as you ask." "Thank you."

There was no time for more because the Scanrans had to descend the steps and the royal family and King's Council ascend as her father came to her side. She stood back as they formed up in turn, royals foremost; Shinko's eyes twinkled in her rice-powder mask. Roald and Thayet were smiling, and Councillors who were friends—Alanna, Raoul, Daine and Numair, Wyldon, Padraig, Vanget and Ferghal, Imrah, Harailt, Terres and Ennor, even Turomot in his way; a great majority. Only Nond, Blue Harbour, Disart, and Macayhill were less, and after three months at New Hope any grumbles were buried deep and would stay that way.

Jonathan came forward and the creation began. As he'd cheerfully promised the occasion called for a speech and it took all Kel's Yamani mask not to writhe as he extolled her at ludicrous length. Beginning with a five-year-old who'd seen her mother save swords—she'd get Anders for that—he laid out her life in terms that seemed increasingly strange. At first it was interesting, because he had things to say about learning of the battle with hill bandits, fear of heights, and a moment after Lalasa's rescue when he'd looked at a rusted staircase with wonder; but after that it was downhill save for a bit about jousting. By the time he plunged into the war she'd detached herself sufficiently to think he trod a fine line between painting his dream-picture of half the world and gods beside exalting her and remembering many had died elsewhere under other command, and a dozen borne far more responsibility. The absurd thing was that his audience seemed rapt, despite being in a position to know better, and murmured agreement at each exaggeration. Thankfully the griffins shuffled when his flights of fancy strayed too close to plain wrong; Kel thought he was aware of that and sped up, but even recent events had not been witnessed by all, and treason could not be avoided, so once again the roadway weltered, a sunbird-fletched arrow flew ahead of a storm, dragonfire lit the world, and Maggur fell, Jonathan not knowing whether to stare at the darking view before him or the reality he could see by raising his eyes.

Then the King sought leave of His Grace of Mindelan and called Kel to kneel, beginning formal creation, in Tortallan law a mystical regnal capacity as well as an administrative procedure.

She would be a Countess of the Realm as well as of New Hope, responsible to and for her liegers, sworn to defend the House of Conté as well as her own fief, and the oath was complex. That was partly her fault, for what had been a simple clause about the King's reciprocal oath never to use the Conté Gift on her without her leave had acquired a long subclause, but at last they completed interlocking parts, and she could kiss his hand and be raised to her feet as Countess Keladry of New Hope. Uinse, standing by the flagpole, hauled and snapped, and Kel's personal standard fluttered open, gold and silver borders glinting. Jonathan probably had more to say but didn't get a chance as thousands shouted approval, loud enough to make glutted stormwings bate for balance, and had the sense to get out of the way as her father grasped her in a hug that squeezed away what breath she had left, then her mother was there, and her siblings, Tobe, and best of all Dom, to whom she just held on, resting in the strength of his arms, her dizzy head on his shoulder until the swollen clamour sank back to something bearable and she could risk lifting her head to kiss him. That only set everyone off again though she didn't much care, and his eyes were laughing.

"I think they want another speech, my lady."

"Are they mad?"

"Probably, but you're going to have to do it anyway."

Dom was right but she was feeling mulish and the King's speech had to have been enough for anyone. Jonathan was grinning foolishly, arms round Thayet and Shinko, and she had only to look at the crowd for the noise to drop in invitation. Her father hadn't made a speech at his ducal promotion and her planning hadn't included one; nor was there anything to say everyone didn't know already and had just been reminded of, and there ought to be a break to light bonfires so they'd burn down for leaping. Not letting go of Dom she beckoned her parents to her side.

"New Hopers, thank you all. None of this day could have happened without you, and I will requite your trust." They roared again and she gave them a moment, thinking embarrassment could properly be shared. "I needed you all as I will need you all in the future, but there are others to acknowledge. Were it not for my parents' unstinting support I could not have begun on the path that led me here, and without my friends I could not have hoped to become a knight. If you would honour me, honour all. And though gods have blessed, remade, and restored me, without Dom I would not have survived." Lauding others was much better than being applauded, and her people knew she didn't mouth platitudes so cheers were heartfelt. Dom's squirming was interesting; he'd have to get used to a public stage but they had years for that and the fin's shadow was creeping across the shelf. She raised a hand, hearing his sigh of relief as the noise dropped. "And that's enough speeches for anyone until sunset, when I've another vow to make and all have thanks to offer the gods who bless us so richly. We have an hour so let's use it wisely. We need to … hold it."

Her gaze whipped to Kitten, snout skyward as she chattered. Kawit and Quenuresh were also looking up and Kel tipped her head, searching. At first she couldn't see anything, then thought there might be a dark dot and Daine, eyes a far-seeing hawk's, came over.

"It's not just Diamondflame, Kel. There's three dragons spiralling down and I think one's Rainbow."

"Rainbow's the other senior dragon, with Diamondflame?" Jonathan had joined them. "Is he even bigger?"

"No, older." Daine was frowning. "The oldest—more than a hundred centuries. Diamondflame's … the dominant clanchief, you could say, but Rainbow governs the Dragonmeet and speaks for all dragons by right. You'd best warn people, Kel."

The crowd was exclaiming as the dragons grew—a great leading shape that must be Diamondflame followed by two about two-thirds his size. Kel's voice brought craning heads down to look at her.

"It seems we have three more guests, people." She smiled, projecting calm she didn't feel. "It'll likely be strange but nothing to fear. We need space, though. People on the green, move off it, please. Create as much room as you can. Uinse, get your men to help."

The crowd edged back, some climbing to the shelf, others retreating into space Uinse's men left as they broke formation. Kel trusted dragons not to squash people they didn't intend to; perhaps the magic that expanded buildings would take care of that too.

"Kawit, Kitten, join me, please?" Kitten trotted over. "You've met Lord Rainbow?"

When I visited the Dragonlands. I do not know why he has come, though—I didn't think he could still fly.

He is blind, not crippled, Skysong. But I too am surprised, Protector. Things must be moving fast.

"What things, Kawit?"

That is for them to say. Your third guest is Wingstar, by the way.

"Thank you. How should I greet them?"

Politely.

Kawit's mindvoice was amused and Kel glared, not that there was much point. The crowd was rippling, voices rising, and she glanced up to see the dragons much closer, true size apparent as their spiral brought them overhead. Diamondflame was black against the sky, Rainbow pale, Wingstar gold and grey. Kel's eyes caught Stanar's and she beckoned.

"Will you who've met Diamondflame reassure the Council?"

His eyes were wide but he grinned and nodded before turning to his fellow prisoners and Jorvik. None of the clanchiefs were men to panic but coping with adult draca wasn't like coping with Kawit and Kitten, and boldness from Stanar might do good. Kel could hear his rapid Scanran declaring these were not uhtsceatha and from the corner of her eye saw Jorvik brace himself, while Ragnar's face was alight with wonder. What longer-term effects this might have on her Scanran reputation was a nice question, but the dragons were turning to glide down—and were going to land on the green. A sensible voice in her head was grateful animals were pastured or they'd have more than chickens squawking. People ducked as Diamondflame passed over, wings backstroking, and air plucked at her hair and kimonos as silver claws scored turf.

Magic rippled, space expanded, and Kel would have sworn the flagpole moved, the eastern half of the green bulging away. Rainbow landed beside Diamondflame, with care that spoke of age, and Kel's heart beat as she saw blank eyes and dusty iridescence of green, red, blue, and yellow scales. Wingstar in turn landed neatly beyond him, the flagpole avoiding her somehow, and there simply wasn't room for three dragons on one side of the green but there they were, wings folding and heads turning to her. She curtseyed deeply, seeing others follow. Straightening again she spread her arms and projected her voice.

"Lord Rainbow, Lord Diamondflame, Lady Wingstar, be welcome to New Hope." Rainbow's mindvoice didn't have the raw power of Diamondflame's and was mild, like

an old man's reedy tenor, yet had the same impossible depths and in the profound silence Kel knew everyone heard it.

We thank you, Protector, for your invitation and welcome. I fear we disrupt your day yet I would speak with you and Skysong, if I may.

Kel swallowed. "Of course, my Lord. Your arrival is opportune, for we have a break before my handfasting and commending our peace to the gods, at sunset." Her mind spun. "Lady Skysong was about to light our bonfire."

Indeed? He might be smaller than Diamondflame but towered over the frozen people before him as he seemed to look at the wood stacked on the range. That would be well.

"Then if you will excuse me a moment?" She curtseyed again and he nodded regally. Could he see despite those eyes or did he sense by magic? "Alright, people, you heard. We'll light the fire—someone please get the one in the valley lit too—and start again in an hour." She looked down and gestured to the bonfire. "Skysong, do the honours?"

It is my honour.

Kitten's mindvoice was earnest and strong—projecting clearly, Kel thought, to show Rainbow she could mindspeak many at once. They went together, Kel nodding to her fellow clanchiefs as she passed, and the crowd squeezed aside to open their path. Uinse had men posted around the bonfire to ensure none accidentally disturbed it and they expanded their circle, people shuffling back. As Kel and Kitten neared the perimeter a voice wormed into Kel's mind and though the dragonet wasn't looking at her she knew this was private.

Do I just light it?

She kept her voice to a murmur. "No ceremony, but warn people first, and extreme control, Kit. Burning nicely, not consumed." She stopped, gesturing Kitten forward. The dragonet drew herself up.

Is everyone ready? Let the Beltane fire be lit.

Her tail went straight out with effort as she gestured with a forepaw. A globe of fire, tiny but blazingly bright appeared, dimming as it curved through air to disappear into the base of the bonfire, which came alight with a whoomph, crackling merrily as damp wood caught. Noise and light broke stillness, breath from thousands of lungs swirling rising smoke, and applause rippled, turning Kitten pink with pleasure.

"Excellent. Thank you, Kitten, that was just right. But we shouldn't keep Lord Rainbow or your grandsire waiting."

Of course.

Beyond the bonfire their way to the dragons was clear. In the firelight Rainbow's scales flickered colour and Diamondflame's golden crest gleamed. So close it was impossible to see all at once and Kel bobbed to Wingstar and Diamondflame before curtseying again to Rainbow, Kitten echoing her. "How may we serve you, my Lord?"

Diamondflame's mind voice was unmistakeable and her head turned. I am sorry you had no warning, Protector, but events here have caused much discussion. Your proposal for an embassy requires a judgement of the Dragonmeet, and Rainbow felt he could not advise about what he had not tasted for himself.

And I have already tasted much. Kel's head turned back to those blind eyes. Skysong, you are in your second decade?

I have fourteen years, Ancestor Rainbow.

And you mindspeak and call fire with good control. Rainbow shifted, stretching a forepaw, and extended silver claws, the scale above each a different colour. I am told you know light spells.

Kitten peered and concentrated again before uttering a long trill-croak that made each claw glow in the colour of the scale above it.

Very good, Skysong. You grace your clan. Kitten went bright pink again, and Rainbow's head turned. You were right, Diamondflame, not that I doubted—yet I cannot blame the Separatists for doing so.

They didn't, Rainbow—they just didn't like the implications.

Kel wasn't sure she wanted to hear about dragon factions but wondered what implications.

Perhaps so. Rainbow's head turned again. Kawit, you gave Skysong only the scalegift?

And time, Rainbow, but she was strong enough to wake me from a sleep of twenty centuries or I could have given neither. Nor have you yet seen the strength of her light spells. She has learned more from the basilisks already than most ever will.

So Diamondflame says. Very well. He turned to Kel and lowered his head. He smelt of iron and she made herself stand still as it stopped only feet from her. You have but two decades also, Protector?

"I come of age next month, my Lord."

You too grace your clan. The darkings have told us what passed here but there is much they cannot relay. Will you allow me to sift your mind? There is no harm in it but you will sense memories as they pass.

Kel stomach tightened and she let out snagged breath in a sigh. "I have too many memories, my Lord, to think remembering harmless, but you have my consent for whatever is needed." Why it was needed was the question, but she had half a guess and refusing didn't seem wise.

Thank you.

A shimmer of magic enveloped Kel and she heard people cry out and Diamondflame's mindvoice crackling reassurance, but even that was muffled. When she'd died her life hadn't flashed before her eyes but it did now—all Jonathan had rehearsed and more besides. The terrors of Conal holding her from the balcony, wind plucking at her as she clutched Lalasa on Balor's Needle, and her flight along the fin flared above the barriers containing them, and sick regret for deaths she'd caused swelled in her heart. It was her use of gifted dragonfire that concerned Rainbow—the rest only explained the cold duty twined with white rage and soul-deep nausea that had filled her, driven her, appalled her as her hands flexed again and again. Snap, snap—no slower. A second to burn scores of men out of existence and bring Maggur down. Her people would be safe, children could live, and poor Runt rest in peace. Rainbow's magic vanished from her mind and she staggered, feeling an arm catch her.

"Kel?" Daine was supporting her. "You feel squeezed but it'll pass."

Kel felt as if she was floating. "I'm alright, I think."

"She didn't need this now, Rainbow." Daine sounded cross. "She's got vows to speak and offerings to make. Couldn't it have waited?"

It could not, Godborn. She has taken no more harm from dragon magic than you, and the Dragonmeet waits on answers I now have.

"Did I pass?" Kel knew it had been a test but not what the question had been and her feet still didn't quite seem to be touching the ground. There was amusement in Rainbow's voice but something else as well.

Pass? Yes, Protector, you did. Truly, you thought of our godslain as you used our fire— and it is well. Very well. I knew those dragons and I offer you their respect with my own.

His head drew back, turning to Diamondflame with a complex wave of thought far beyond mindvoices that Kel sensed as a blurred force, and as her feet felt stone more clearly the perception faded. Another dragon head came into view.

Well, you are an unusual mortal, aren't you? Greetings, Godborn.

"Hello, Wingstar. What's going on that all this is necessary?"

The Dragonmeet has not been so exercised for centuries. Not everyone thought Diamondflame's gift justified.

"Jewelclaw and Moonwind?"

Among others. They only fuss because they do not have the votes.

"And Diamondflame does?"

He will after this. I should greet those I know, but I hope to speak to you again before we leave, Protector.

She rose, stepping gracefully over Daine and Kel, mindvoice calling greetings to the King and Queen, and Kel tried to clear her head.

"How long did that magic last?"

"Only a minute or two."

"It felt like a lifetime."

"I bet. Let's get you sitting down."

"I'm alright." But she was glad of Daine's arm as they walked in Wingstar's wake and detoured around her to the steps, where Kel sat, careful of her kimonos but glad to let her legs tremble slowly into stillness. Dom crouched, braced leg awkwardly extended.

"Are you alright, love?"

"Fine." She smiled, heart full. "I know it's absurd but I'd love tea."

"Coming up."

Her parents wanted reassuring, and friends, and the King when he'd finished talking to Wingstar, but tea restored her and it hadn't been bad, really—just unexpected and disconcerting, a small thing compared to events that demanded it, and turbulence was fading as she restored calm to her lake. What it had done was take up time, and the hour was dwindling. No matter—if Diamondflame and Rainbow stayed muzzle to muzzle much longer she'd have to interrupt. Most people hadn't gone anywhere and those who had were reassembling. Gathering strength she gave Tobe her mug and stood. Lalasa had a brush from somewhere—or carried one as Kel did handkerchieves.

"There, all clean again. And dragons! Dragons come to see you handfasted! Oh my lady."

Kel didn't think that was quite the case but it wasn't the moment to argue, especially with Lalasa already inclined to vocatives. Dom was at her side and she wanted to make her vows. For a Beltane handfasting no priest was needed—Holloran was coming for the wedding—so it wouldn't take long, and once the offering was made she could relax and try to slide away with Dom; if the gods were content, and she thought they were. Even if Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady manifested it would be to see their daughter and she could cope with that—dinner places were set in case, though the cooks' efforts might have been disrupted by all the ceremonies. Dusk was drawing in, the fire had burned down almost enough to leap in kimonos and with Dom's leg, and everyone seemed to be back, so on legs that seemed to be holding up again she set family and friends drifting to their own places and looked towards the dragons. The conversation had finished and Diamondflame's eyes were on her.

The Dragonmeet decides, Protector, but Rainbow will urge the embassy. It means lifting the ban on visits to the mortal realm but I believe that will happen. An odd note entered his mindvoice. Rainbow says he sensed a question you hoped to ask. Do so after your ceremony.

Kel blinked, disliking how much Rainbow had seen, but if the request she'd wondered if she dare make mattered, well and good. Dom was waiting, the crowd had stilled because she was facing them. For what she hoped was the penultimate time today she spread her arms.

"No explanations needed for this one, people, but there's one thing I'll say. His Majesty tried to make me out more than mortal, and you have that habit too. Yes, I was sent back by the Black God—as a mortal, a woman with needs and fears. Don't ever think me more—or Dom can remind you of the truth he'll be living with." She reached a hand to him and he took it. "I expect this is all out of order but I don't much care—there's no protocol for this so we're suiting ourselves."

They turned into each other's arms and kissed, ignoring the cheery racket, and went together to the shrines, bowing and curtseying to Lord Mithros and the Goddess before facing Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady—gods with the passion to marry and proper sponsors of any Beltane feast. Kel doubted anyone could hear their vows of honest trial of love with intent to marry—redundantly, as the wedding was scheduled, but very satisfying all the same. More kisses were necessary, but sunset was close and the prospect of ending the day some compensation for parting from Dom. He limped to his men, and she saw him receive smiling congratulations before she lifted the krater that had served as a grace cup and faced the crowd once more.

"So. We have pleased ourselves and now we must see if we please the gods. Enough blood has been shed in this war for all our lifetimes, yet we will shed a few drops more in token of the blessing we ask."

Duke Baird came forward with one of Amourta's egg feathers and while she held the krater one-handed carefully lanced her finger, letting a drop of blood fall into the bowl before a flicker of green fire sealed the cut. The King contributed a drop, as did Roald, for the treaty was not limited to one reign, Yuki for all Yaman had given Kel and New Hope, and a surprised

Ryokel for the future she'd grow up in. The Scanrans had all wanted to, blood making more sense to them than water, but she'd limited it to Jorvik and Ragnar; then Zerhalm and Fanche for the civilians of New Hope, Connac for its soldiers, Brodhelm for those assigned, a veteran for volunteers, and Sir Voelden for knights; he had looked at her in amazement when she'd asked him. Dom's blood as much as her own would flow in her heirs, and then immortals—Quenuresh for spidrens, bending to allow a very cautious Baird to nick her cheek and take a steaming silver drop while Bonedancer clacked, Kuriaju and Var'istaan for their kinds, and Amourta completing the pattern, for all immortals' hope of younglings and the stormwings' complex rejoicing in the peace they existed to promote. Silver streaked the dark pool in the krater as light faded. Kel walked along the shrines, curtseying to each and raising the krater high, then returned to stand before Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady. Her voice echoed from the cliff.

"High Ones, we have striven in all faith. You know what this offering represents—a treaty between realms, New Hope's future, and my own, blended in blood we offer gladly and hope will be the last we need shed. If you would correct us, we ask you do it now, that we may know we err, or if we do your will, bless us that we may go forward in peace."

She let a drop of mingled bloods fall on the front of the double niche and set the krater before it, then backed away. As she stepped over the trough chimes began, ringing across the valley, and flaring silver shone redly through her hand as she shielded her eyes. Turning her head from the glare she could see people with hands raised as they went to their knees, buildings starkly white. Weiryn was being even worse than last time, and Daine wasn't by her side to tell him off, but at least the show would set an impressive seal on the day; even Scanrans had gone to their knees, and the King. Only immortals seemed untroubled, but intent. The glare was fading and she turned back to the shrines, her welcome for Daine's parents freezing on her lips.

They were there, antlers towering and green dress swirling in a breeze Kel couldn't feel, but so were all of them save Lord Gainel, and her eyes flicked left and right as panic rose. The Goddess and the Black God were at least familiar, but none could be mistaken. Lord Mithros's armour glimmered, and though he bore no shield the strong black face was that of the statue in Corus with living eyes. Shakith's dead ones were blank as Rainbow's, face sharp as any hawk's, and Lord Sakuyo's eyes were on her, laughter tumbling stars in their depths. Her knees were buckling into belated obeisance when Weiryn's strong hand caught her arm, that impossibly rich voice rolling out of him.

"You have prayed and knelt enough, Keladry. Stand now to let my brothers and sisters see you in your flesh and hopes."

When he turned her to face Lord Mithros she wanted to let her head drop and look away but the god's eyes held her, turning her inside out as intimately as Rainbow. The blood she'd shed cascaded around her and her honour in battle let it run past, hope rising above slaughter while silver glittered everywhere. Pressure increased, doubts beating at her, and she felt herself squaring her shoulders, for if she had failed somehow she was sorry and angry, but not ashamed. It eased and Lord Mithros regarded her gravely as his hand reached for hers, drawing her forward; his lips burned cold on her forehead and energy flooded her in a tingling gift. His voice was deeper than the ocean, its fury of battle distant.

"You have achieved much, Keladry of New Hope, and may achieve more. Nor have you erred, though you faced Chaos as well as mortal neglect. All your hopes have my blessing."

Weiryn's hand turned her again. The Goddess was easier but her kiss just as cold, sending shivers though Kel as heat gathered in her belly. The words were mindspoken to her alone, and the hounds silent.

"I rejoice in your healing, daughter. My gifts do no good unused. Go now to Shakith, and

do not fear."

The hawk face was intense, blind eyes saw all, and in her amazement Kel thought they looked also at Rainbow beyond her, then at her alone. It wasn't like Lord Mithros's examination —it was of the timeway that could be seen through her, her future, and there was no kiss but that hawk's scream that set bones trembling though godmagic protected her. As its echo faded Weiryn's hand fell from her shoulder—this she could face unaided, though he accompanied her as she managed to walk back across the goddesses and Mithros to the Black God. The oval beneath his hood was dark but as she stood there she could see his face again, so beautiful and young, so piercingly sad. The fathomless, silvered eyes were calm, the voice again private.

"You have honoured my gift, Protector. Those you mourn rejoice in your triumph. I will always hear your prayers."

There was again no kiss but as his face faded from her view his hand rose to cup her cheek in benison, as she would touch an ogre or spidren she could not embrace. The hand was as young as the face, unspotted and smooth, and the ages of her dead flashed in Kel's mind with knowledge it was war that kept him youthful, smooth-skinned as Merric or Seaver or Quinden; his touch gave her calm as unruffled as a lake's indifferent to whom it drowned. Weiryn's hand rested again on her shoulder, turning her, and laughter boomed, out of all proportion to the old man who regarded her with a crooked smile, eyes full of stars. Who else could hear him she had no idea.

"Ah daughter, we meet at last, amid the noblest jest of an age. Truly you are my Blessed." Old, long-fingered hands grasped hers and joy surged. "And truly the best jests catch the jester."

She had to stoop for his kiss, swaying forward as he rose, and his lips blazed with heat, setting her blood in a fizzing riot for joy of life and passion, laughter beyond tears when you still lived, whoever died. Desire curled in her belly and she wanted to dance, spin, to rise above Dom and cry out her pleasure, but Weiryn's hand anchored her to the ground as the feelings flared away. Silver was building around Lord Sakuyo and the Black God, and Shakith too was glimmering; light swelled and faded and they were gone, but Weiryn and the Green Lady were still there, with Lord Mithros and the Goddess. Kel felt wonderful, as if she were striding loose-limbed to glaive practice with the sweat of love still on her, ready to flow into a pattern dance. She was peripherally aware that the crowd's obeisance had become rapt attention and of immortals' faces as they watched, but her attention was on the gods as she came to the centre and Lord Weiryn stood again by his Green Lady. All of them regarded her. Free to move she dropped a curtsey at last, feeling the smoothness in her thighs as she dipped and rose in a single movement.

"High Ones, the Beltane fire awaits. Will you join us in celebrating our New Hope?"

The warcries of Lord Mithros's voice were muted. "We will, Keladry, following you and your mate."

His eyes moved beyond her, silver and stars, and though it meant turning her back to them she spun, kimonos flaring despite the stiff material, to hold out her hand to Dom. She didn't have to call him though his face was taut with nerves as well as amazement as he limped slowly forward, negotiating the steps to her side.

"One moment." The warcries were audible again, arms clashing, and they turned. A hand shining with power rested on Dom's shoulder and something like regret wove among the sounds. "Your wound was a mortal deed, my son, and may not be healed as your mate's injury and death by Chaos, and yet—" Swiftly the god stooped, and his other hand cupped Dom's leg as silver flared and was absorbed. He straightened. "You have fought faithfully, Domitan of Masbolle. Your wound remains but will not trouble you tonight, and in days to come you may find it eased."

Kel knew just how strange divine power felt set to work within one, and from the look on Dom's face the god's kindness might undo him as the pain of his wound had never been able.

"Thank you, my Lord. You are all grace. Dom, time to go." His eyes met hers and they swung, her voice rising. "We're jumping the fire, people, and gods with us, so you'd best clear the way and fall in behind."

They were scrambling aside as she and Dom took measured, even paces to the steps, looked at one another again, wild light kindling in their eyes, and were off, kimono skirts as irrelevant as space to dragons, brace as unimportant as Rainbow's blindness. Momentum from the steps set them running, and silver curved overhead to blaze the bonfire up, but there was no harm in its flames. They left the path, rounding the playground to the fire, seeing dragons sharply upright, and the light was in their faces. But there was light behind too, and the gods' silver shadows preceded them, visible against the flames. They were in perfect unison and leaped together, careless of spiking red and silver that let them pass, soaring free of stone for a timeless moment as heat bathed her legs, and touched down together beyond. Their hands parted as they swung round and met in the clap with which the first couple through Beltane flames greeted whoever followed, Kel's right palm against Dom's left, inner arms encircling one another. Weiryn and the Green Lady followed, pre-eminent on this night in the place of their major shrines, and flames stroked them as they burst through, faces radiant and laughter ringing. When feet met stone again it quivered and gods spun into position alongside her, hands meeting in a thunderclap matched by thousands who clapped in time, echoes booming. Lord Mithros and the Goddess leaped and landed and the ground shook but the air was full of blossom, its scent overpowering, and Lord Sakuyo's laugh boomed as stormwings sneezed, swirling petals.

The flames subsided behind the gods and Kel saw others coming, Jonathan and Thayet, Roald and Shinko, her parents, Anders and Vorinna, Innes and Tilaine, Fanche and Saefas, Neal and Yuki, and to her wonder St'aara and Var'istaan, leaping as she didn't know basilisks could, tails draped over outer paws and inner ones clasped. Even the griffins leaped, fire in the firelight, and more couples than there had been at the start of the day, sharing the ritual of promise. Scanrans were clapping, braids swinging, and so were all who weren't leaping—even Turomot and Nond. Ogres made thunderous bursts of sound, and stormwings clashed gleaming wings, centaurs stamped, but at last it ended; an elderly Tirrsmont couple hopped dwindled embers with laughter at the foolish joy of it, and spun to clap with all one last time before silence trembled over ragged breaths and dissolved into a vast cheer wild with hounds and war. Echoes crashed from fin and cliffs to roll down the valley, dissolving into the air and woods, and Kel grasped the quiet though Sakuyo's laughter was thundering again somewhere.

"High Ones, Your many Majesties, everyone—we're late for dinner and if they've kept their heads for the last hour the cooks will never forgive us for being any later. May I lead on?"

There was more amusement than war in Lord Mithros's voice. "Why not, Sakuyo's Blessed? It is never good to distress cooks."

She couldn't help herself, laughing aloud at the mortal wisdom, and took Dom's arm to head for the messhall. As they entered godlit pillars flared, stippling walls with all the colours there were, and candles burst alight. The gods knew—or perhaps didn't—what would happen to the seating, the one part of the day on which she'd let Master Oakbridge labour, but he could hardly complain at these guests, and maybe gods and dragons had more in common than she'd though for there seemed to be places for everyone. The fragmented memories of her first divine dinner must be an effect of gods' for this evening too splintered into silver fragments; Kel could never remember what she'd eaten, only that it smelt mouth-watering and lived up to its promise, nor quite who'd said what to whom, only that conversation flowed.

It didn't at first, small talk with gods being awkward, but Weiryn and Sarra were more interested in being grandparents than gods and Daine's example, with Sarralyn's gurgles and Ryokel's when Yuki shyly presented her, slowly spread. People were so eager to talk about their astonishing day even gods couldn't inhibit them, and after Alanna enquired after the Cat, bringing a smile to the Goddess's face, Kel brought it down to commoner interests by asking Mithros if there were anything in mortal understandings of the warrior he'd like to see change. There didn't seem to be, but he backed the requests she'd made of the elemental, observing the problem applied equally to female warriors unreasonably loathing men, and at male surprise added dryly that there were nations where women were dominant in arms. If it hadn't been him saying so Kel thought Disart and Wyldon might have protested disbelief, but it was, and she and Alanna had a hard time not laughing.

The Scanrans did well, wide-eyed and pinching themselves but not to be outfaced by gods any more than dragons. Ragnar, breathing deeply, confessed frankly that piety had declined in Scanra, scoured away by war, and asked guidance in restoring it in Somalkt. It opened wider talk of how mortals should live, as if all present were commanders the gods might send forth to implement their song. It wasn't piety they cared about, if there was respect, but integrity, sweat, and truth, every mortal's effort within their communities; as they had care of all, balancing need and ruth, soul and community, one and another nation, so all should balance care of themselves and duty in the world. A man—no names were mentioned—might claim necessity beyond themselves but their self-regard overweened, as their acts showed. Ritual didn't matter either, only what it expressed, and Mithros turned to Kel with eyes that made her wonder how irony and stars could get along.

"Keladry shines in this. Her prayers are always that she may survive in others' service, for courage to endure that she may not fail those depending on her. For herself alone she asks nothing, deserving much."

"We've been trying to do something about that."

Mithros smiled. "Giving must be earned too, Jonathan of Conté, and she has taken what she needed, harming only whom she must to save her own. It is well enough."

After that Kel let others talk, turning his words in her heart, and when she led the way out to the mild night again, crowds and an impromptu band falling silent to see what would transpire, she murmured requests to Dom, Thayet, and the Goddess. Taking Dom's arm and gesturing Jonathan, Roald, and Shinko to follow, Thayet led them towards the rebuilt bonfire. Dom had the band strike up a traditional Beltane dance and the spectacle of royal couples beginning steps pulled attention even from gods. Moving to the side as the procession from the messhall streamed past Kel looked at Lord Mithros and the Goddess.

"You said I harmed only whom I must, my Lord, yet among them were many who would have meant no harm had they not been coerced. Mortals must answer for themselves, and have, but I grieve for the giants. And the tauroses—harnessed to mortal wrong yet in their natures a bane to women." Another breath. "They have served beyond themselves as my skullroad. May it not earn them your grace?"

Mithros was still but the Goddess rested a hand on his arm. "I have asked you before of the tauroses, brother, as have others."

"I cannot unmake them, sister, and their numbers dwindle."

Kel almost reached out too. "You could give them a choice, my Lord."

"How so?"

"I am told they have no mates."

"They were created male, long ago."

"Then create some female, for whom they are not death. Let me be the last mortal to die of their unanswerable need."

Mithros sighed. "It is not so simple. They came of a mortal's bitter dream, as stormwings did. Where will a dream of mates for them arise?"

"Cannot Lord Gainel weave it of my hope and experience? And of Lalasa's, surviving to find a mate's care? It isn't being a woman that makes tauros rape fatal, but being mortal. Cannot your power, and the Graveyard Hag's with Lord Gainel's, together do what is needed? Even if it must be minor goddesses who return as swiftly as Lord Weiryn and the Bear god when they kill one another in sport, to visit chastisement upon their assailants? When I died it was no sport yet I am here as those who died with me are not. It cannot be right."

Kel became aware of the Goddess looking as if she swallowed laughter and Kitten looking up approvingly. Mithros shook his head.

"At least you are more polite than the dragonet."

"She has a point, brother. Gainel is willing and the Hag may find it a better jest than she has ever thought the tauroses."

I am not rude unless you deserve it. And I am come to say Grandsire and Ancestor Rainbow wish you to know they will respect what the timeway offers. They ask if they might speak with Kel a moment because they have to return to the Dragonmeet.

Both faces were suddenly remote, and the hounds in the Goddess's voice. "Respect what the timeway offers? Perhaps we should hear this, brother. Attend your guests, Protector."

Kel wasn't sure what had happened and went towards the dragons struggling with horrified irony that she'd managed both to imitate Kitten in telling off Lord Mithros and share his exasperation with impertinent interruptions. And maybe not so impertinent, for it meant asking the question Diamondflame had encouraged; nor were dragons necessarily less important than gods. Halting before Rainbow to drop a curtsey Kel was aware of Weiryn and the Green Lady behind her as well as Mithros and the Goddess, Rainbow's blind eyes on them.

Gods.

"Dragons."

Rainbow's head dropped. Protector, I would know on what terms you seek our embassy.

"On those acceptable to you, my Lord. My only requirement is that peace be kept and all beings respected. With so many kinds dwelling here it should be a place to consider all co-operation may achieve."

Our kits might come as Guild apprentices then? Subject to its rules and civility, answerable to the Dragonmeet for their conduct?

"That sounds right, though authority to deal with minor lapses of conduct directly might be sensible."

It is not authority but power. The old mindvoice was amused. But I take your point and

will let you know what the Dragonmeet decides.

"Thank you, my Lord." This was it, and she turned to Diamondflame. "My question is an impertinence, my Lord, but you were so kind before, with the landslip, I must dare it. I need to build a bridge, over the Vassa, and though I believe it possible with mortal and basilisk magic, and ogre skill, it would be much swifter with dragonmagic." She smiled hope. "When of your grace I sat astride your neck you said you did not mind labour. Would you mind more?"

His mindvoice was as neutral as Rainbow's had been greeting the gods and her heart sank. Let me be clear, Protector. You ask for dragons' help in constructing a bridge?

"I do, my Lord. I am sorry if I offend."

You do not. Neutrality was still there but his eyes were on Mithros. Wingstar and I will help. Where would you bridge the Vassa?

Exaltation warred with uncertainty at whatever was happening. "The North Bend of the border, where I crossed going to Rathhausak."

That is well. When should we attend you there?

Kel's head spun. "At the ides of May? We have much to prepare."

That also is well. We go, Protector, offering congratulations as you walk the timeway's new course.

There were meanings here she couldn't begin to guess and the gods were immobile. "Thank you, my Lord. Do you need space to depart?"

The walls suffice. Until the ides.

All the dragons rose and she stepped back. How the gods had done so she hadn't a clue but they weren't where they had been, the way clear for the dragons to walk carefully to the wall, uncoiling to stretch to the palisade. They flowed over, Rainbow careful but sure and strong, and were gone; their spiral brought them back over New Hope before they were lost in the dark. Kel sighed and blinked, for Lord Mithros and the Goddess were also gone; Weiryn and the Green Lady regarded her, Daine grinning between them, Sarralyn on hip and Kitten at her feet.

"Good work, Kel. Kit says you did a fine job making Mithros listen."

Weiryn smiled but his eyes held no humour and stars blazed. "It is more than that, daughter, though how much more we wait to see." Stars dimmed. "I agree tauroses should be dealt with. They abuse the hunt."

Weiryn didn't seem angry and Sarra was smiling. Safer ground seemed an excellent idea and he'd raised the subject. "I hadn't thought of it so, my Lord, but they do. I heard a fine story of the Hunt, from an old man who lives near Steadfast and had the tale of his father. He would not name you in the telling, though."

"I know that teller and he is wise, as his father before him."

"I found him so. Your hounds must be wonderful animals."

Amusement drifted into his voice. "You think so?"

"Oh yes. Never to miss or mistake their quarry? Like your bow."

"You used it well, Keladry." A note of regret joined amusement. "I would bring the hounds to meet you but I am yet bound to my lands."

"Are they bound also? I expect it's as silly as offering you food but they'd be welcome to run in my woods. I have an awful lot of them now."

"They are inquisitive and hard to deny."

"Harder than griffin and dragon kits?"

"No." Amusement spilled into a laugh. "But the Hunt to roam these woods, where game teems with the animal gods' blessings? You don't know what you offer, Keladry."

"But I know what I want, my Lord—a fief where those guilty of any crime to attract the Hunt face it swiftly, and honest travellers pass safely. I will have to hunt that game hard to feed the guards I will need. And New Hope is your major shrine."

The laugh became a thoughtful look, stars dancing. "Free run of your woods for guardianship of the road? You have a … knack the timeway must have seen. There is precedent for such a bargain, long ago. Wuodan might care for it."

He raised a glowing hand and silver expanded. Kel had to close her eyes until the dazzle faded, and she knew what she'd see when she opened them. The black hound was enormous, shoulders level with her breast; its head was turned to Weiryn but when it swung to look at her its eyes were embers, gledes that could turn to flame at any moment. Nostrils flared, making her think of Quenuresh. She curtseyed and a voice pierced her mind, other than the dragons' but no less potent.

You are courteous, mortal, and your offer interesting. I will run your woods this night to smell what is there.

"With all blessings, Lord Wuodan."

I am no mortal lord. Wuodan will do. Weiryn spoke of one here who knows his hounds.

It wasn't a question. "Ebony, do you know where Wyldon is?"

"Eastern alure. Watching."

Kel picked out the lean figure, beckoning. "Lord Wyldon of Cavall, Wuodan. He is coming directly."

I see him.

Hounds weren't interested in ceremony and it was gone, loping towards the stairs Wyldon was descending. People got out of its way but today a hound the size of a pony was only one more wonder. Kel would have liked to see the meeting but Weiryn was speaking, voice thoughtful.

"A definite knack. The ides will be interesting."

Daine shook her head. "Da, stop being mysterious. It's annoying."

"Is it, daughter? Yet we must all wait, and it is no mortal business."

"Could have fooled me. Can we sit down, please? Here."

She plonked Sarralyn into his arms and Kel smiled at them all. "I know your time together is short. Go and enjoy it." And gods be thanked—literally, but some other time—they did, walking towards the terrace where Numair and Kawit waited. Wyldon had met Wuodan on the steps, Jonathan and Thayet were dancing, and her parents and siblings, Fanche and Saefas, Neal and Yuki; Baird watched with Ryokel. Dom was there too, eyes on her, and dancing seemed an excellent idea.

Getting away wasn't easy, but after enough dances to remind her it had been a very long day and several attempts she enlisted Quenuresh, and a cloaking spell allowed them to reach the caves. People were wonderful, family more so, and dragons and gods a bounty of it, but just now she wanted to be alone with Dom. He had to solicit the discretion of the watch sergeant keeping an eye on the stables but then they were in the corridor outside his room and a long, sweet kiss became imperative. Kimonos weren't conducive to anything but proper removal, so Dom reached back to open the door and they went in. Kel had a second to be grateful for the design of kimonos before Lord Sakuyo turned from studying a waving Yamani cat she'd given Dom. His eyes were laughing but his finger was across his lips and they stood mute while he crossed to them, voice as quiet as it could be loud.

"My brother is right, of course, and generous by his lights—but such a sobersides. And you are a treasure among my Blessed, whose road has been long. So while he is having such difficulty finding his shield—" He knelt, hands cupping Dom's leg, and something that wasn't silver glimmered around his fingers. His face was full of mischief. "—I may persuade his power not to depart as he thinks it should. The longer it stays, the stronger the effects, and he has much to think on, thanks to the dragons, so he will be splendidly distracted. And a Beltane blessing—not only allowable but encouraged—disguises things more." He laid graceful old hands on their shoulders and heat pooled in Kel's loins, overflowing. "I leave you to enjoy it." He looked at Dom. "Just remember to limp convincingly on the ides. I'll see myself out, daughter."

The door closed behind him and Kel's eyes met Dom's, where surprise and confusion were being burned away by desire that made her shiver. "Any more surprises up your sleeve?"

"I should take these kimonos off and see." It was such a relief to stop talking.


	33. Chapter 31

Unison

Chapter Thirty-One — Unison

2 – 16 May

Having been up late people were not pleased to be woken early but Kel was brimming with energy. She had removed her pregnancy charm with her kimonos and if last night hadn't done the trick nothing would; perhaps it was an after-effect of gods for New Hope seemed to shimmer with life too, the grass studded with tiny white flowers that hadn't been there before that blossom fell— of which there was no sign. Lord Sakuyo had undertaken his own housekeeping and she had a bridge to build. Fortunately basilisks and ogres weren't prone to hangovers and she needed to see them first. Var'istaan and St'aara weren't in evidence but others were, with Kuriaju and Samiaju, so she set about explaining and while they thought about it Amiir'aan went for Geraint and Numair. The latter was very grumpy until Kel presented him with tea strong enough to stand a spoon in and asked him how he'd measure the depth of the Vassa, and how much weight he and Harailt could lift for how long. By then Geraint was there and, however bemused, a morning person who liked a problem, so conversation was soon humming.

What would take time was moving stone, and that meant all hands, hooves, and wagons, starting now. New Hope had accumulated an enormous amount of ashlar but stone was heavy, and the last miles of the trail to the Vassa would need widening and more. The King could start picking up that responsibility today, with a message to Giantkiller, and all these guests, having had their supper and then some, could now sing for it. Kel rubbed her hands, made sure cooks were at work, sent half the duty guard to knock on doors and went to the king's herself. His guards were disinclined to stop her, and Thayet was delightfully tousled when she answered a rap and found herself handed two mugs of tea.

"Breakfast in half-an-hour."

"Eh?"

"Breakfast. Bridges to build, messages to send by royal authority."

A mumble within made Thayet withdraw for a moment. "Jon says send them yourself, whatever they are." There was another mumble. "What are they?"

"Road-widening, soldiers, Giantkiller."

"Send them. See you at lunch. Maybe." A pause. "Thanks for tea."

Kel tutted at such somnolence but no-one else she needed was in a position to turn over and go back to sleep. Among Vanget's assortment of spellmirrors, all hanging with her own, was one connected to Giantkiller, so as well as despatching a written order she could anticipate it. The duty officer was taken aback but she was briskly clear about what was needed and promised the first loads of broken stone and a basilisk would be where they were needed by tomorrow, so crews had better be ready. While she was about it she summoned the western building team from Mastiff—Geraint was here anyway, and they at least would know what they were doing. Vanget came in while she was talking, raising eyebrows in query.

"Bridge-building. I need the track from the Frasrlund road to the Vassa at North Bend

passable for wagons."

"Do you?" He frowned. "What was all that with the dragons, Kel?"

"No idea, but they agreed to help with the bridge and will be back on the ides, so that's the priority."

She wanted him on her side and could use his logistical skills so she steered him to breakfast, explaining the while. He shook his head often, as if it hurt, but was smiling by the time the messhall had filled up and she rose to issue strings of orders. Observers from Riversedge and Bearsford found themselves on wagon-commandeering expeditions home; wagoneers went off to harness teams and equip as many horses, ponies, and mules as possible to carry stone; a river-sounding, brush-clearing group began to assemble what it needed; Laar'aan and Samiaju went to brief basilisks and ogres on what they had to do; and when a wild-haired Ragnar, who seemed to have slept by the bonfire, if at all, mentioned the surviving Scanran wagons and mule-teams Kel promptly sent him to roust them out, regretting anew the mules she'd killed. The initial choke-points would be corral, roadway, and main level: Dom had the first, Uinse's men were best equipped to manage the second, and she set Vanget on the third. Her task was a survey of how much stone was available, and once she'd made estimates of piles in the valley, slabs of finstone remaining where they'd fallen, stocks within New Hope, and sacks of rubble piled by the gatehouse she went to join the design meeting and expand ideas. It would depend how deep the Vassa was, and how deeply sediment lay over rock, but unless it was worse than anyone thought possible—and Geraint knew about such things—there was more than enough material.

By the time Jonathan and Thayet put in an appearance, in late morning, the first laden wagons were half-way down the valley, behind the river-sounding group. Their Majesties blinked, surveyed the bustle, and found Kel with Samiaju and other ogres on the terrace, building dry-stone piers and arches with finstone fragments. Kel smiled cheerily, opening her mouth, and Jonathan held up a hand.

"No, I don't want to know just yet. Next week, maybe. I'm still trying to cope with the fact that seven gods turned up yesterday and you invited four to dinner. Is Tortall still here?"

"It is, sire. It's just moving about a bit."

"Oh good. Is there anything I really need to know now?"

Kel considered. "You want to be at North Bend on the ides."

"I do? What am I doing?"

"Seeing a bridge built and opening it when it's done."

"Of course I am. I always do at ides. Anything else?"

"Great North Road. All repair teams, here, soonest."

"Gods."

"Not sure, sire. I've no idea what they were about, but it's not mortal business—just god-and-dragon business that's been, um, collocated with ours by the timeway. I think."

Jonathan closed his eyes. "It wasn't a question, Keladry. Never mind. What are all the road teams doing here?"

"Fixing anything that needs it from Bearsford to the Greenwoods, widening and

strengthening the Greenwoods trail to good double-wagon width, and fixing the Frasrlund road to North Bend. I already have people working on that last bit but their job is speed—your people need to do culverts and flatten gradients."

"Culverts. Right. Can I have breakfast now?"

"I'll take you. I'm hopeless at dry-stonework and Kuriaju knows what's needed—it's whether arches or cantilevers will be best."

"I'm sure it is. What are the Scanrans doing?"

"Hauling stone with everyone else, or watching it happen. Ragnar was about but I left the rest of the Eight and the chiefs to sleep—they got into their mead rather, I think."

"Tell me. We left them going strong."

That explained more than it didn't and Kel found herself liking her monarchs again by the time they were sitting on the eastern alure in sunshine, with bacon sandwiches. She'd procured a tea guaranteed to cure hangovers from Neal and they were visibly happier as it took effect. She was able to explain what would be happening and receive more coherent answers, though anything she might think about gods and dragons was still off-limits. Eventually Jonathan hauled himself up and went off to light a spellfire under the man responsible for maintaining his roads. Thayet sat back.

"You took your moment well, except it wasn't a moment—it was the whole negotiating fortnight, wasn't it? You bent them all round."

"Did I? It all seemed horribly logical to me, Thayet."

"To you I expect it did. Everyone else was surprised."

"They shouldn't have been. Jonathan suggested I claim Rathhausak."

"He was teasing, Kel. He didn't expect you to do it. Nor did Jorvik by then, though he wasn't sure when you let Ragnar get rid of that Jonsson fellow. And after yesterday … they're calling you a dragonlord."

"That's ridiculous."

Thayet smiled. "Ragnar said all it really means is that you can talk to them without being roasted or eaten."

"Oh, draca-eorl. It's in a saga—a mage who made an uhtsceatha a deal. Huh. All it takes is being polite, so far as I can see."

"More than that, I think. What was that dragonmagic about, by the way? You were as white as a sheet afterwards."

"Was I? Rainbow needed to know about my using Diamondflame's gift so he had a look to see what I remembered. Not a good memory. But I regretted necessity enough, apparently, and though there's dissent in the Dragonmeet they seemed to think young dragons will be allowed to come as Guild apprentices."

Thayet laughed with wide eyes. "Apprentice dragons? That's …"

"Going to be very helpful establishing the Guild's base here as a … well, a university,

really, but I don't want academic ranks and fussing, more a place to work on practical solutions."

"Like bridges."

"Exactly. But I'll need a dean, I suppose, for the teaching side. I might see if Kawit's interested, but there should be a mortal deputy. Any ideas? You know priests and people at the City of the Gods."

"You have them all in a tizzy so an offer to anyone will be a cat among pigeons. Let's see. What qualities do you need?"

They spent an interesting half-hour discussing it. Patrons were mentioned, and as Kel's instinct for Roald and Shinko sat well with Thayet they got into the reversionary interest and the likely concerns of His Imperial Majesty in all this. Kel couldn't imagine what effect news of Lord Sakuyo's public manifestation would have in Yaman, but his private one gave her confidence there wouldn't be anything of serious concern. She was also happy to agree she and Dom should visit the Islands when things settled down—she wanted very much to thank the god in one of his major shrines and to show Dom the other land she loved; Neal and Yuki were due a trip as well, and both royal couples, so words might profitably be had with Prince Eitaro, Keiichi, and others in the wedding delegation. They were interrupted by Wyldon, looking … Kel wasn't sure what but thought she might know why.

"Good morning, Your Majesty, Keladry. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was asked to convey a message to the Protector."

"We were about done anyway, Wyldon, and I ought to be elsewhere. A message from Wuodan?"

"Ah, yes. Astonishing creature. He says you have a deal."

"Excellent. No bandits here. Will Owen be happy or disappointed, I wonder. Can I borrow him, by the way? I've a side-trip he'll enjoy."

"He's under Vanget's command but I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Um, who is Wuodan? And what does he have to do with bandits?" Thayet sounded plaintive.

"The hound. Yay high." Kel held her arm out. "He leads the Wild Hunt—they're going to guard people using the road. Wyldon can explain. Excuse me, will you? I've got to make my first land-grant."

She left them, bemused looks the order of the day, and went to find Turomot and Jorvik. Neither was doing anything useful and Jorvik was another candidate for Neal's tea, but the question of how her grants of land should be recorded for Corus and Hamrkeng was actually the sort of thing he enjoyed, and bread -and-jam for Turomot. Both agreed what happened in either capital wasn't her business so long as grants were clear, marked on the ground, and recorded in Common so the same text could go to both Councils. Her questions for Jorvik about clanlessness took longer but she was soon on her way, this time with an eye out for clerks, wonderful clerks, with fair, round hands.

The clerks were easy and so was most of the dictation. The opening formulae would hereafter be rote, but this time she had to decide what they were or let protocol decide for her, which threatened absurdity. Lady Knight Keladry, Countess Commander of New Hope, Clanchief Rathhausak, Protector of the Small, Councillor to His Majesty Jonathan IV of Conté and Tortall,

Dragonlord, Friend of the Stone Tree Nation and Wild Hunt—and whatever other lunacies anyone might dream up to thrust on her, so to clerkish disappointment but the ease of their successors she opted for a minimal version naming herself only as Lady Knight, Countess of and Clanchief New Hope. Zerhalm and his people were content Clan Rathhausak was gone, so the whole fief was New Hope, and no place of needless ink. It didn't sound right in Scanran, but Hléoburh could be 'stronghold' or 'place of the protector', and that would do fine. She still had to grant of her grace, but at least it was a verb.

Owen was trickier but Ebony tracked him to the corral, grooming Happy Two and talking to veterans. She'd meant to leave Wyldon the pleasure of telling him about the deal with the Hunt but his enthusiastic questions about the 'whopping hound' were too much, and she wanted word spread anyway. Eyes were popping by the time she'd finished but there was enthusiasm at the thought of would-be bandits being nabbed faster than they could say 'Down boy', and for not having to guard a hundred miles of road. Owen was happy to be borrowed, and didn't have to be told twice what was wanted, grey eyes sharp. Then it was back to Kuriaju and Samiaju to find cantilevers had won though it meant taller piers and longer planks than were available, so sawyers were assembled.

The first wagons wouldn't arrive at the Vassa until the following evening so there was no point heading north herself until the morning after, and Kel had a day to deal with other business. The King's Council was supposed to have a Beltane session dealing with petitions, as Imbolc dealt with landgrants, but any that had been submitted were in Corus. There was nevertheless what passed for a session, largely taken up by Kel explaining what was happening, laying out plans including the Guild, and inviting them all to her wedding, smiling regret she didn't feel when Duke Gareth, Macayhill, Blue Harbour, Disart, and Nond politely declined as they'd best be getting back to their own business. Padraig and Turomot she regretted, but insisted everyone stay to the ides. There would be dragons and perhaps gods, and if there were something to witness she'd as soon they saw it for themselves.

There was also a meeting of New Hope's Council with a fuller agenda. The fief had been transformed since they'd last met, expanding dramatically across Tortall and into Scanra. With peace the Tirrsmont, Anak's Eyrie, and Goatstrack contingents were free to return home if they wanted, and many did, but besides homes raided or burned they wouldn't get a full growing season and the Greenwoods would remain the fief's agricultural heart this year at least. But there were silver mines to reopen, other sites to explore, how traffic on the road was to be managed and the need for waypoints or inns. It was daunting but Kel saw no reason to delay and every reason to take advantage of expertise while available, so all sorts of people found themselves co-opted— Gareth for advice on administration and finance, Turomot on law and justice, Numair, Harailt, and even the King on magical training, Imrah and Ennor on trade—and closely questioned by people and immortals who'd have related responsibilities at New Hope.

It was also clear the enlarged fief was seriously underpopulated, and while there was every reason to think a few years would go a long way to rectifying the issue in the short-term it was acute. The escort companies would be leaving, and if Kel's loaner companies went too resettlement of Tirrsmont and Anak's Eyrie would be a long-term plan. One problem was solved by a mass pardon of the convict soldiers, who had impressed everyone, taking the heaviest casualties, and almost to a man wanted to settle. After Vanget had spoken to Brodhelm and Mikal their assignments were also made permanent, and though the army would decrease, to the relief of the treasury, some northern companies would be assigned to New Hope, allowing Kel to use her own to supplement the field workforce when needed.

She'd hoped for time with her family but only managed it after dinner, with her nieces and nephews tired out. Vorinna and Tilaine had succumbed to inhibiting awe again, and had to be coaxed; even her parents and brothers showed signs of being subdued, but Dom helped by teasing

her and their developing identity as a couple offered a more normal rearrangement within the family. There were Yamani matters, personal, state, and divine rolled together, and questions for Patricine and Keiichi to take back to the Islands could be developed.

Kel set off next morning with Owen and Wolset's squad as an escort. She'd managed to persuade Dom to come: he insisted landgrants were her domain, not a shared responsibility, but couldn't deny this one was distinct, and with Jump and the sparrows along it was nostalgic and bittersweet. Alder took Peachblossom's place, and Merric and Seaver were palpable absences.

She'd asked Neal but he had an elderly patient whose heart hadn't thought Beltane dancing a good idea, as well as Buri to monitor. But Tobe and Irnai were there, and a flattered Connac, shoulder as healed as it would ever be.

Slowed by the many wagons to manoeuvre past, it was late when they reached the turnoff to the Vassa—a pleasant surprise, with the building team supplementing soldiers from Giantkiller and a great deal done. As a sergeant explained warily, the Scanrans had undertaken basic widening to get their wagon-train through for the siege, so surfacing and grading had been able to start at once and stone was already getting to the banks of the Vassa. There was one dip that needed multiple mule teams and was creating a bottleneck, and Kel used her portable spellmirror to talk to Numair and the basilisks. The dip was steep, not long, and could be filled in for the width of the new roadway with cuttings from either side and rubble. There'd be a day's delay while it was done, but constant lesser delays imposed by the need to triple-team mules would be obviated. Things were also running smoothly at the bustling camp that had sprung up on both banks. The rope-ferry was strung, piles of stone building up, and clearance work further along than expected. For any number of reasons, from common sense to winter flooding, there was no point building low to the water, nor having approaches that needed double teams, so the bridge would cross more than the river, from the bluffs on the Scanran side to well up the gentler slope on the Tortallan. Best of all, the Vassa had been profiled and the answers were good: thought more than one-hundred-and-fifty yards wide, much of it was shallow, between twenty and thirty feet, because there were two channels twice as deep with vicious currents—but the maximal span possible between piers with the design agreed could cross both, and by bracketing them Kel could work both ways and determine how many would be needed and where piers had to go. There was also sufficient current that the shallower bed was scoured of sediment.

The soldiers had been getting first-hand accounts of events at New Hope from wagoneers but were glad to hear other perspectives. Kel couldn't blame them and they'd prepared an excellent meal, but once they'd eaten she and Dom crossed on the ferry to wander the Scanran side. That the land for miles in every direction was Kel's seemed deeply peculiar to both, and she knew she'd need to have it properly surveyed, with which stormwings could help, and ride it herself, which promised to be the work of years. Meantime she was strolling, handfasted with Dom, through peaceful country she'd grimly, warily, traversed with rescued children in wartime, plodding on leaden legs, hopeless desire suppressed; the contrast was bubbling excitement and a jangling sense that they ought to be wary butting against knowledge they needn't be. Canoodling in enemy territory in wartime was horribly failing comrades; finding a clearing beyond a rise a few score yards off the Vassa road and after a long, kindling look taking advantage of its privacy was being considerate to one's fellow campers wanting an undisturbed evening. The night was clear and moonlight did fascinating things to anatomy; so did mosquitoes, but it was worth it. As an excessively chaste squire she'd missed too much fun, and a sense of unrepentant delinquency was something to savour.

The morning was for business. The little animal track above the Vassa was longer, fording the Brown trickier, and the woods more beautiful than she'd noticed two years before. Then Jump had been with poor Shepherd and other Haven dogs, with no time to investigate anything; this time he could run sideways as much as forwards and thoroughly sniff whatever warranted it, sparrows flitting with him. A mile short of their objective they reappeared, alarmed but indicating

a friend, and Kel wasn't surprised when a hundred yards later Wuodan appeared from trees ahead.

His unusual mindvoice sounded thoughtful.

The scents are very confused here, guilt and innocence mixed.

"I'm sure they are, Wuodan. These people are smugglers but they betray none and helped me rescue the children, if you know that tale."

I do. What arrangement will you make with them?

"I'm not sure but I want them in, not out. Will you come with us, that they may know their peril as well as their opportunity?"

He cocked his head. Very well. It will save time later. But … The embers in his eyes went out, and a normal if hugely outsize dog looked at her. I am not Hunting and may not use the Hunt's power on innocents.

"They're hardly that, but scrupulous is good and I hope to prevent them ever becoming

guilty."

Then let us go.

She named him to all, holding back warily, and introduced him properly to a delighted Owen, in whom he seemed to recognise a man who knew hounds, if not with Wyldon's expertise, and to Dom, as her mate and the fief's authority in her absence. Conversation was limited to observations about the abundance of game and a valley by the Smiskir where a band of spidrens laired; she promised a treaty-bound spidren would be sent to make contact. The clearing with longhouses was ahead and all fell silent, spreading along the treeline as once before so they could be seen. They were clearly expected but these people were cautious and the only sound chickens and geese within the palisade. The wicket opened and three people came out—the man she'd seen on the other side of the Vassa, the man she remembered as leader, who'd bargained with Neal, and Old Gella, who was his mother and most important after him. Kel went forward with Dom and Tobe, Wuodan beside them.

"You again. More trouble, I expect."

"I hope not. You remember Dom and Tobe—Dom and I are handfast, and we've adopted Tobe. And this is Wuodan. I've an offer for you all."

"An offer? Ferrying the Hamrkeng council back, I suppose. That stormwing gave us all a

turn."

"Would you rather they'd landed on your doorstep without warning? Or drowned crossing the Vassa?"

"We'd have known when they came close and what's it to us if they'd drowned? That's clan business."

"And without them there'd be no peace. Can I take it you're aware of what's been happening in the Greenwoods valley these last weeks?"

"Ay, we've heard tales. What's true is anyone's guess."

"Unless you know for sure, which I do. May we come in? I promise you it's an offer you'll find interesting."

"Do it." Gella was even more wrinkled but her eyes were bird-bright. "She's chock-full of destiny yet, and if that hound's mortal I'm a goose."

You have good eyes, grandmother.

The leader went as tense as a drawn bow. "What is he then?"

"Wuodan leads the Wild Hunt under Lord Weiryn. But you're making me start with the stick when I've come bearing carrots."

There was more shuffling but eventually they were all allowed to enter. Kel asked for everyone to gather, and with Gella's prodding they agreed. While families assembled in the hall Kel tried to find out what the leader was called but he remained wary and she shrugged.

"Alright. Just don't complain when everything's in Gella's name."

He looked baffled as she produced the scroll and her quill-and-ink case to make the necessary entry.

"Everyone here? Right, facts first. One, last time we met no-one was using names but everything has changed. As of two days ago I'm Countess Keladry of New Hope, Clanchief Hléoburh, by the authority of King Jonathan and the Council of Eight. Two, New Hope stretches from South Bend to Steadfast and Bearsford to the Pakkai, and you're in the middle of it. Three, as of the ides there'll be a bridge over the Vassa—dragons, basilisks, ogres, and a black-robe mage are helping and it will be built, to carry the Great North Road unbroken from Corus to Hamrkeng. And four, as Wuodan can tell you, the Wild Hunt will ward travellers on it in exchange for free run of my woods, on both sides of the Vassa."

The Protector speaks truth.

The leader looked at Wuodan, then Kel, and let out a sigh. "So the tales are right." He shook his head. "You want us gone."

"Not at all. Jorvik Hamrsson told me you were clanless folk, but I think you're your own clan, Clan Nihthelm." That garnered smiles. "You do have a problem, though, because while I'm not silly enough to think everyone will be happy to use a guarded bridge, your business will suffer. Also, I'll want to know who the unhappy are, even if I do nothing about it, and with the Hunt at large you'll have to be very careful what business you do. Bridge and Hunt are necessary, but you're paying a price so I aim to offer you compensation and a choice. Gella, this is yours."

She handed the old woman the scroll.

"What's this? It's mighty fine but my eyes aren't what they were."

"I think your eyes see a great deal. It's a landgrant, recognising everything on both sides of the Vassa within a mile of here as the holding of Clan Nihthelm, under Chief Gella, and accepting it creates a liegebond Corus and Hamrkeng recognise. If you decide to go elsewhere I'll offer compensation. Or you can change your line of business." Her eyes sought the man she'd spoken to in Scanra. "You complained we made regular ferrymen of honest smugglers and I suggested you try it in peacetime. I didn't know about the bridge then. But bridges need all kinds of work— maintenance, clearing debris caught on piers, guiding boats up and down." She looked at the leader. "Or I want a Guild of Vassa Boatmen, to promote trade along the river, and so do Lord Ennor at Frasrlund and Lord Ferghal haMinch. I doubt it'll be headquartered in my lands, but with a hundred miles of Vassa running through them it'll be important to me, and you could be its core. Or if you've another idea, I'll listen. You can find nightwork elsewhere with money to set you up.

Or try daywork, with land recognised as yours and status with it."

His jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"Entirely. I'll leave you to think about it. My people can flesh out facts for you, if you give them the chance."

She was inspecting the chicken and geese run when they whirled to the far side, clucking and honking, and Wuodan came up beside her.

They are chasing their tails but will accept your offer and the scents will become clearer. I believe I will enjoy our deal. You are an interesting mortal and it is good to run in this realm again. He seemed to decide something could wait. I will find you at need.

"Thank you, Wuodan. And for talking to Wyldon—he admires you." He is interesting too. I shall be visiting his hounds.

Kel laughed. "Good. Come and tell me about it afterwards, if you will. You're always welcome at New Hope, you know."

A very interesting mortal.

He didn't bother with the wicket but sprang cleanly over the palisade. Dom came forward, limp barely noticeable.

"He's going to visit Wyldon's hounds. Owen'll be delighted."

Dom laughed. "Yes, he will. And so are those smugglers. It's a good offer, Kel, and I can't think of anyone else in Tortall who'd have made it. The others are hip -deep in the Tale of Lady Kel, and will be for a while yet, but I wanted to tell you I'm proud of you."

Kel kissed him. "Don't you start. I'm just me, remember, and they deserve it. It's logical, anyway."

"Only you'd think so, but that's alright." He kissed her back.

At dawn on the ides a lot of people were waiting by the Vassa. On the crowded Tortallan bank two piers were in place and roadway laid: ogres had constructed them, basilisks bonded them, magepower raised them and sunk them into rock liquefied and reset; mortals had cantilevered petrified planks, and basilisks bonded those too. Geraint couldn't decide if it was still a cantilever or simply a beam; Kel didn't care as long as it worked. There'd been stone to spare, so where roadway met slope there were beginnings of guard and garrison quarters, defensive capacities concealed by friendly architecture: Kel wanted trade, not war, but redundant strength was better than built-in weakness. On the Scanran bank only one pier stood, because the next would be twenty-five yards out in the Vassa; the unmated roadways projected forlornly but nearly a hundred yards of bridge already existed. Kel wasn't short of manpower, the Scanrans having come and very many Tortallans, so buildings were rising along the bluffs—stables, general store, smithy, farrier's and wheelwright's shops, an inn she'd christened the Smugglers' Rest, and a local headquarters for the Guild of Vassa Boatmen

Other piers waited on the Tortallan side—huge columns of bonded stone. Height varied according to the depth of the river and the lowest parts, to be sunk in rock, were diamond-shaped with projecting flanges; upper parts had great corbels where the roadway would rest, above which wings rose a further twenty feet to secure it and support multiple rails. They were very heavy and Numair was concerned that moving them magically would be a dangerous strain. Kel had nodded and said she'd see what could be done—it was only sensible to inform Diamondflame of what was going to be needed, and she'd done so by writing a letter with many diagrams Ebony could see and darkings in the Dragonlands relay. She added a second explaining Numair's concerns and asking if dragonmagic might assist; a squeaked reply told her not to worry, so she let Numair know it was taken care of, earning her a sidelong look.

He wasn't the only mortal speculating about how she planned to get this bridge built, and there had been truly silly suggestions from people who seemed to think fast-flowing water could be petrified or that the Vassa would have to be dammed, with calamitous consequences. Others muttered about the time it took to construct cofferdams and the impossibility of doing so in this river. Kel told them to wait and see—it gave those not working flat out something to talk about— but saw New Hopers didn't doubt it would happen, while guests, Tortallan or Scanran, were sceptical. Much as everyone had during and after the Immortals War, they saw wonders all around but had no notion of making them useful. It was very odd, but everyone was up and fed when the sun rose, and the dragons didn't keep them waiting. As usual Kitten gave first warning, and after looking with hawk's eyes Daine whistled.

"Wingstar's back with Diamondflame and Jadewing."

"And how big is he?" Jonathan was peering at the silhouettes far above. "Is he the one in front of Diamondflame?"

"Diamondflame is in front. Jadewing's about a hundred-and-twenty feet, not counting the tail." Daine grinned. "I did say Diamondflame wasn't the biggest dragon."

Jonathan nodded faintly, pulling at his beard. "So you did. It's … hard to imagine."

"No need, sire." Kel grinned at him. "They'll be here in a moment. You'll have to help Numair, Harailt, and Alanna with lifting basilisks and ogres. The end of the existing roadway's closest."

"Closest to—never mind. I'm going." His gaze rested on the far bank. "Do you know those people? I don't recognise them."

Kel glanced across the water. "Ex-smugglers, now Clan Nihthelm and future Vassa boatmen and innkeepers. You might talk to Old Gella if you get the chance—she's the strongest hedgewitch I've ever met and Neal thought some of her magic very nifty."

He laughed. "So that's why you insisted on the Smugglers' Rest. I'm going, I'm going."

Kel went to tell other mages, basilisks, and ogres where they'd be needed and accompanied them. By the time they'd all made their way out to the cantilevered end of the roadway—forty foot wide and much less worrying to be on than it looked from below—the dragons were in their final descent. Jadewing was a beautiful pale green and simply colossal, half as long again as Diamondflame with a tail to match, but he didn't make the senior dragon seem any less potent though the sixty-foot Wingstar looked positively delicate by comparison. Eyeing the crowds, fallen into reverential silence, they wheeled to come in on the Scanran shore, landing neatly on the bluffs. As everyone straightened Numair rested a cool hand on Kel's neck and her voice rose over the water.

"Lord Diamondflame, Lord Jadewing, Lady Wingstar, greetings."

And to you, Protector. Diamondflame was audible to all and the crowd rippled as mindspeech hit them. Everything is ready? You have achieved much in two weeks.

"Thank you, my Lord, but we have reached our limit." Has anything changed from the plans you discussed?

"No, my Lord, and as you see the piers are completed. They lie in their right order, extending from this side, and the intervals should be the same as that between the existing piers behind me."

Then there is no problem for me. Jadewing, any concerns?

The great green dragon stretched his neck and magic the colour of his scales flickered around the biggest, lifting it as a man might a spear.

None, Diamondflame. They are heavier than they look but within my grasp. His mindvoice was conversational, a beautiful—Kel would have said baritone but that was silly. They are basilisk bonded, Protector?

"They are, my Lord."

That explains the density—no natural rock has such weight. He seemed to consider her.

You are very polite, as mortals go.

Diamondflame's mindvoice came to her alone, though she never understood how she knew when a communication was private.

Our capacity to lift magically reflects physical strength and Jadewing is very strong. Much stronger than he is clever, fortunately, but there is no harm in him.

Kel blinked, never taking her eyes from Jadewing. "How could I not be respectful, my Lord, when you so kindly aid us of your grace?"

This time the dragon blinked and Kel felt like pumping a fist.

My grace? It was what Rainbow wanted. Shall we start?

If the mortals, basilisks, and ogres are ready. Mortals, you must stand clear of the water, for it will rise, and of piers when they are lifted. Wingstar will watch for safety, but care is needed.

Not waiting for any reply Diamondflame sprang aloft, hovering on magic as he had over the landslip. A bar of glittering magic appeared between piers on the Tortallan side and flipped over the outermost to stretch over the Vassa, indicating where the next pier should be. He shifted to position himself above the spot and more magic descended to strike the water, expanding into an oval that bored down, the river's flow parting around it in a deepening hollow. Within a minute the scoured stone of the river bed was visible, and the oval expanded until it was wider and longer than the pier by a dozen feet each way. The Vassa rose but didn't overflow its banks and there was profound silence broken by Kel's sigh of pleasure.

"There we go. Wonderful. Thank you, my Lord. Sire, mages, Var'istaan, Laar'aan, Kuriaju, and Samiaju into there, please."

The mages looked at one another, shook collective heads, and did as asked. As soon as the

ogres touched down they heaved stray boulders to the downstream end of the oval, beyond the space the pier would occupy, and stood back as basilisks began a bone-shakingly low rumble tightly focused on the stone, which began to glow. Kitten and other young immortals had come out onto the bridge to see, and she chirped applause; Kel thought the sight was in its own way as terrifying as anything she'd ever witnessed—but it was going to get her bridge built. Basilisks retreated, widening the pool of rock; Diamondflame's voice sounded free of strain despite the magic pouring from him.

Now, Jadewing, the first pier?

Of course, Diamondflame. The great green dragon used magic to push aloft, positioning himself so close to Diamondflame his wing extended over the senior dragon. A thick streamer of his magic reached out to the right pier. This one, Protector?

Numair was several steps away but Jadewing was looking straight at Kel, Ebony was on her shoulder, and she nodded.

"Yes, my Lord, that one first."

Sharp edge to the current?

"Exactly so." The pier lifted into the air. "The other way up, my Lord. The flanges rest on the river-bed."

The pier rotated end over end and floated over the water before descending into the hollow. As its base neared the river-bed Samiaju bellowed as his arm gestured. "A little to my left, Lord Jadewing, and towards me. More to the left. Yes. Yes. Now straight into the rock."

As the pier was forced down trills from the basilisks banked the rock overflow. With twenty feet of pier buried flanges came to where they should be. "Stop, Lord Jadewing, but don't let go. Lady Kel?"

"Samiaju to the top of that pier, please." Numair complied, and the ogre, uncoiled a weighted rope, a plumbline held at arm's length over the side of the pier and let fall. It stopped ten feet short of the river-bed, bouncing, and when it had stilled Samiaju lowered it to within to a foot of the flange. Kuriaju moved so he could see it and the pier in parallel.

"The pier needs to be tilted to my right, Lord Jadewing. Back a little. Slowly. Hold it." He squinted. "A fraction more. Another. Yes, that's vertical. Var'istaan, Laar'aan?"

The basilisks trilled the rock that had overflowed back to lap over flanges, smoothed curves, and shifted to the extraordinary sound—a tremendous un-rumble—that reset rock, advancing to the base of the pier. When they'd finished they stalked around it, probing with magic and pressing with their feet, then nodded at Samiaju.

"You can let go, Lord Jadewing. All done, Lady Kel."

The green magic vanished.

"Excellent. Thank you. Mages, all of them to the piertop, please."

Basilisks and ogre rose and landed beside Samiaju, and slowly Diamondflame let the oval shrink and rise, water pouring back round the pier. Turbulence developed downstream where parted currents met again but at the knife-edge there was barely a fleck of foam. Diamondflame and Jadewing returned to the further bank and tumult rose from the crowd; Kel offered a bow she saw Diamondflame acknowledge with a nod and beckoned waiting roadway teams—files of men

bearing great sixty-foot planks sawn from the same pines that had provided Geraint's bridge, and more basilisks. The mages knew what was needed, and the first few planks were easily supported across the void to be seated home by the group on the pier, with others positioned tightly at the near end, and the whole simultaneously petrified and bonded, basilisk rumbles thundering across the water. With part of the span usable the process accelerated as carrying-teams could simply hold planks where they had to be until ends were bonded and the whole petrified, and Kel had enough people available that the stream of arriving planks was continuous. Within half-an-hour the forty-foot roadway had been completed, and a second layer of planks laid and petrified as a single unit. There would be additional surfacing but that could wait—and the whole operation had taken little more than an hour. The roadway teams withdrew and Kel rubbed her hands with intense satisfaction.

"Now we do it again."

And they did. The next pier was the largest, standing in deeper water on the saddle between channels, an intrusion of darker and harder rock. That didn't cause a problem, nor did Jadewing seem to notice the greater weight, but the intrusion wasn't flat, nor anywhere near, and the basilisks had to be reinforced to shape and hold the first four or five feet they liquefied, as a broad collar under the flanges. Adjusting to the vertical took longer, the plumb line deployed on all four sides, and when they were sure of it more rock from the upstream side was liquefied and guided to flow around the pier, building up the broad step it rested on and smoothing contours so boulders would be directed away. The third was as easy as the first, the fourth, in shallow water near the Scanran bank easier still: Diamondflame created a crescent cofferdam, and once basilisks and ogres had been lifted to the farther shore they could scramble down to the site. By late lunchtime, save for surfacing and railings, there was a bridge across the Vassa.

Jonathan looked at Kel and shook his head with admiration. "Entirely astonishing. Go on, Keladry, you should be first across."

Kel agreed despite herself but when she glanced up all the dragons were watching intently from the bluffs; a decision crystallised.

"I don't think so, sire." She raised her voice. "Everybody, hold still. Now go back the way you came, so no-one—no-one—has crossed the bridge." There were odd looks but they weren't going to argue with that voice. Once she was satisfied everyone was obeying she headed back to the Tortallan side, Jonathan and Alanna flanking her while Numair and Harailt discussed dragonmagic behind.

"Why so, Keladry?"

"The dragons relaxed when I gave that order. It matters."

"How do you know they were tense?"

Kel shrugged. "I'm not sure, Alanna. But I had a strong feeling and I don't ignore those even if they seem to make no sense."

"Say no more. That sort of feeling has saved my life. Any ideas?"

"Not really, but it was clear at Beltane the bridge mattered to Lord Mithros and the Goddess as well as Diamondflame and Rainbow, so I expect we'll find out. Unless we don't."

"Fair enough. Should I try to ask her?"

"If you want, but Irnai's getting no answers and neither am I. It might be more useful to

wonder how we can thank the dragons. I suspect I'm supposed to know but the only thing I've been able to think of is to name it the Dragonbridge."

Harailt heard this. "Dragonbridge? Now what … oh, yes, one of the Scanrans I was talking to about sagas mentioned something like that."

Kel spun, walking backwards. "Who?"

"Um, an older man, coerced, Clan Guthcræft, I think."

"He ought to be here—can you find him?"

"I expect so."

It took most of lunchtime but eventually Kel saw Harailt coming with a grey-haired and – bearded man. Guthcræft land was far north, bordering the Icefalls, and his Scanran thickly dialectal, straining Kel's ear, but it was soon clear he had only a vague memory.

"Hi had the tell of my grandam, Dragonlady"—he used a form Kel had never heard, dracheorli—"but she died when Hi was a bairn an' she mashed stories together—gods an' dragons an' hicebears an' Hi dunno whatall."

"And the Dragonbridge?"

"A rope bridge dragons destroyed. Hi can't tell why but they was fightin' someone. Hi mind the bridge for grandam got excited tellin' how hit burned, ropes all partin' an' lashin' about hin th'heat."

"Nihtes fleogeth fyre befangen?"

Harailt glanced at her sharply but the man gave a gap-toothed smile. "Yes, grandam said hit was like the burnin' ropes was dragonfire, lightin' up whatever they touched. Hi never met no-one else who knew the tell, but now Hi seen dragonchiefs up close and Hi wish grandam was here to see." He shook his head. "Maggur Reidarsson should never'a gone against dragons nor worms, an' you warned him fair."

"I tried. I'm sorry it came to that—dragonfire shouldn't burn men."

"You did what you must, Dragonlady, an' hif Hi'da dragongift when Maggur came callin' at Guthcræft Hi'da done hit too." He looked at her shrewdly. "We bin talkin' about that trick you pulled wi'the spidren-queen, an' there's men say you was tryin' to spare us hif you could."

"I was. I'm sick of killing and men burn in my dreams. Stanar Petarsson told you—dead people can't change their minds or help with what needs doing."

"Truth. But don't you be haunted by them you burned, Dragonlady. We didna hav'ta guth you, an' we did. Hi don't regret knowin' what dragonfire his, neither. Mayhap Hi needed remindin', and Hi'va tale for my grandins when Hi gets home."

He went off back to his friends and Harailt looked at Kel. "Any help? That accent's hard to follow. Did you get everything?"

"I think so, though dracheorli is new on me. Do other far northerners compound words like that? Scanran does anyway but he did it a lot—dragonfire, dragonchiefs, dragongift."

"Um, some. It's a dialectal habit, mashing words—like his grandam mashing stories. Does

it matter?"

"I don't know. I did it myself with dragonbridge. But drachifethe … even with his accent and the g swallowed shouldn't it be drachifa?"

"I suppose. But gifethe is in one of the old sagas. It's not a present—it's fate or destiny, I suppose—what's been gifted to someone by a god, or birth. What's ordained for someone in particular."

"So he said Diamondflame's gift was … dragonfate? Dragon nature?"

"Either. What they're given and what they give. But he meant he'd have defended his home however he could."

"Even so …"

Ebony was talking to Daine and Kel thought it might not be a bad idea to be only herself for this. She walked downriver, under the bridge, to stand opposite Diamondflame, still on the bluff with the other dragons. They seemed to be napping but his eyes opened.

Protector?

Kel tried to project her voice adequately without commanding everyone else's attention. "I wondered if we could speak, my Lord."

Jadewing, would you oblige? Your reach is longer.

Of course. A tendril of green magic wrapped around Kel and lifted her clean across the Vassa to the bluff in what felt like barely a second and left her gasping. Oh, sorry—you're much lighter than those piers.

Even with her head spinning Kel heard dryness in Diamondflame's mindvoice. I would hope she is, Jadewing. She's a lot smaller.

True.

The green dragon closed his eyes again, and Kel saw relaxation run down his neck. Though far from drained he clearly felt the magic he'd expended, but Diamondflame was sharp-eyed as always, and Wingstar alert; intent even. Kel tried a breath.

"Thank you, Lord Jadewing. I'm sorry to be so fragile." Not your fault.

He didn't open his eyes and Kel looked at Diamondflame, seeing his laughter but also the same focus as Wingstar. She smiled at him ruefully, aware of thousands of startled gazes resting on her back.

"I wanted to thank you, and I've been trying to think how we can properly mark all your help and kindness. But there's so little any mortal can offer a dragon—I can't even give you dinner, as I could the gods."

No thanks are needed, Keladry. You have done much for Skysong and our cousins. And as Jadewing says, you are polite—why should we not respond to a courteous request from one we owe a debt of care, when the work itself is easy for us and saves many from danger?

Kel blinked. Diamondflame wasn't given to rhetorical questions, and hadn't said thanks weren't wanted. "Oh but thanks are needed, for mortals' sake as well as in courtesy. And forgive me, I don't suppose it can matter to you what mortals think, but today has sunk deep into those Scanrans' minds. Quenuresh and I couldn't fool them again with that illusion because they don't now think of dragons just as eald uhtsceatha, flying out of the dark to burn everything."

Yet once we did so, Keladry.

"Did you? To burn a rope bridge?"

Where did you hear that?

The power in Diamondflame's mindvoice was physical pressure; Wingstar's stillness was the kind that explodes, and Jadewing's eyes snapped open, head rising. Silver fringed Kel's vision. I am a lake. A lake with a bridge.

"A tale a Scanran had of his grandam. Forgive me, it's true then?" It is true we once burned a bridge.

Silver thickened, flecking the air. "And now you have built one. My Lord, I know enough to sense the timeway, and I know nothing at all. I would not offend you or any dragon for the world, so I wanted to ask if it is acceptable that we name the bridge to mark your grace to us?"

To name it how, Protector?

"I had been thinking just of the Dragonbridge, but that Scanran used a word that struck me. Drachifethe."

Kel had an impression of an order snarled sideways at Jadewing, who snapped his jaw.

Wingstar was so taut she was humming.

Let us be clear, Protector. Neutrality was absolute. You ask if it is acceptable to us that you name this bridge Drachifethe, and in doing so acknowledge and commemorate our aid in its construction?

"All your aid—the skullroad and landslip, but yes. I ask if we may name this bridge Drachifethe."

Protector, you may.

Neutrality was gone, exultation in his tone as silver flared and died, and all three dragons were standing and bugling, deafening calls that seemed to echo from the sky. Staggering back, mindful of the bluff, Kel let herself fall, landing on her back, breath half-knocked out of her, to see the sky explode with scores of dragons, just there, in great circles surrounding Rainbow. They were all hovering magically but displaced air slapped trees and downdrafts battered her as the three dragons took off. How Diamondflame and Jadewing didn't collide she had no idea, but she was aware of mindspeech blazing and a dozen dragons dropped out of the great formation towards the far bank. People were scattering but it was stone they wanted, remaining blocks flipping skywards like leaves in a gale—hundreds of them, beginning to glow, more and more brightly, and assembling above the bridge in a great mass that coalesced into a ball of molten rock, red becoming white.

Kel's breath returned and alarm dissipated—this was celebration, not threat, and if some formal act of naming was required Diamondflame would let her know. Meanwhile she had an excellent view so it seemed sensible to stay propped on her elbows. The dragons were holding the

ball of magma up and Rainbow lowered himself towards it, magic in all the colours of his scales flowing from his paws. Diamondflame joined him, and two golden dragons, and the stone stretched and broke into halves, then calved small spheres that began to elongate. One of Uinse's men with the building teams on this side came cautiously towards her.

"Are you alright, Lady Kel?"

"Fine, thanks." She shifted to sit cross-legged. "Come and watch."

Self-consciously he squatted, shielding his eyes from the glow. "You know what's going on, my Lady?"

"Not a clue, but that's going to be sculptures, I think."

"Sculptures?"

"Seven dragons, unless I miss my guess."

But she didn't. Stone flowed almost the whole length of the bridge, smaller spheres gathered above the central pier, and she could see how it would be. On each side, facing the centre, were adults, hind paws on one pier, forepaws on the next, tails extending and heads stretching forward to the five kits becoming visible on the central pier, looking back at their parents. Cinders, Yolky, Flinders, Croaky, Parcel, Morsel, and Runt. As shapes were completed fine detail began to appear, lines of muscle and faces, then scales in true pattern that took on colour. Firebreath had been almost griffin coloured, with a golden crest like Diamondflame's, and Golden Eggs as golden all over as her name, glittering in sunlight. The kits had shown their parentage in copper reds and golden browns, and wingless Runt, a little bigger than Kitten, had had a glimmering golden list from head to tail-tip. Her heart ached. The gods could have had no excuse, but she knew the bitter sadness only at its end when it was at last being forgiven.

"Are you alright, Lady Kel?"

The man's voice was full of concern and Kel realised her cheeks were wet. No matter— she had a handkerchief and rose, dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose briskly. "Yes, thank you. Those sculptures are as beautiful as they are sad." She knew what had to happen. "Come on. We need to get the approach on this side clear before that stone cools."

It was a close-run thing. The approach to the bridge was already hazing with silver. "Form an honour guard. Everyone out of the roadway."

She could see dragons settling in a great fan around the far end of the bridge, people scrambling away though dragon magic prevented harm. Space warped around each settling dragon: the effect was dizzying, that whole bank of the Vassa seeming to distort so much that some was forced up, tilting wildly, but the people standing on it were undistressed. Folk around her were gaping and her voice slapped them to action, scampering into line as she slipped past to stand facing into Scanra. Silver thickened, spreading back from the bridge and the glow was more compelling than the crazy landscape behind her as shapes began to coalesce. The Goddess led them, her gaze piercing, but there was a cat at her side, and behind her gods by the score. Kel bowed deeply and stood aside, going to one knee. Weiryn and the Green Lady were in the throng, smiles dazzling, blind Shakith and a robed figure she thought must by Mynoss, the Smith God and Harrier the Clawed, Oinomi Wavewalker, the colour of the Emerald Ocean in sunlight, the Horse Lords, Chavi, Bian, Vau, and Shai, and Kel hoped Thayet and Buri could see them. Kidunka wove among the crowd, Lushagui, Jihuk, tricksters—Sakuyo trotting to keep up with a taller, striding man in a raka sarong, his beard salt-and-pepper and all of him glittering with jewellery. They paused as they passed Kel and the bearded man leaned down.

"Very good—you have been helpful. Remind me to reward you. And give George my

best."

Kel instinctively bridled at Kyprioth's tone but her attention was beyond him, where the Black God came with his daughter, hyena at her side. They too paused and the Hag leaned down, one knobbly hand grasping Kel's arm.

"Upsy-daisy." Kel landed on her feet and found herself turned to look along the bridge. "You don't want to miss this grovelling."

She had no idea how she could see through the crowd of gods and the silver haze enveloping them but the Goddess had reached the centre of the bridge and paused. Her arms spun above her head and silver flowed into the statues before she moved on; each god did likewise as they passed, and the statues began to glow, like the pillars but in the hues of living scale. Kel sighed at the beauty.

"Pretty, isn't it? And all the virtues with it. You'll have a peaceful time hereabouts for an eon or three, while you wish us work as mad as any mortal ever thought of."

Kel tore her eyes from the blessings and turned but the Hag was grinning and another god stood beside her father, wearing a long coat while others streamed past, animal gods among them in shapes she knew and shapes she'd never seen.

"Don't fret—I didn't say I disapproved of mad. But it's work all the same, and Gainel needs a word—after his fashion. He can be here because just now this bridge is nowhere near the mortal realm but talking directly to mortals is still a no-no. So let him buss you, eh?"

Was there no end to it? But she'd offered her experience to Mithros and now offered it to the Dream King gladly, bowing and smiling her gratitude before turning her face up so he needn't stoop. His eyes were infinite, swirling pits and his lips on her forehead icy, drawing warmth from her whole body with the agony of her rape and the bitterness and joy she'd found in life beyond it, with Dom and the children and hopes fulfilled—the sterility the tauros had left, the fertility the Goddess had restored, and the pregnancy of which she was abruptly certain; pain and sorrow, infinite strength to endure, and absolute determination to be fair, to change her mind about spidrens, to see even tauroses could only be what they were made to be. When his lips withdrew she was white and juddering, and Gainel looked at her, then stooped again, and his lips were hot on her mouth for a second while warmth flooded her and her mind filled with blossom. When it cleared he had gone, striding past her, and the Hag was cackling.

"Oh my. You do make impressions, don't you?"

Kel found the energy to glare. "I've one to make on you, certainly." She was rewarded with another laugh. "Meet me at Haven sometime when this lot's done? I've a proposition for your hyena."

Had the Black God smiled beneath his hood? The Hag looked thoughtful and the hyena startled. "Have you, now? I might do that, when summer fun's over. Time to add my mite to the blessings."

With a wink both lewd and funny next to her eyepatch she hobbled past and Kel bowed to the Black God. "Thank you again, my Lord, for everything."

"Today you have repaid any debt many times over. Stay on your feet now, and speak from your heart." The wind soughed as he passed her, joining the throng of animal gods flowing out of nowhere onto the bridge, and her eyes met those of Lord Mithros a few feet away, face impassive.

She bowed yet again.

"My Lord."

"So Gainel has what he wanted and has blessed you beside. And you have your bridge, setting every realm on its head."

"You sent me back, my Lord. Do you regret it this day?"

His gaze sharpened. "No. The timeway knows what it's doing. And my brother is right you have earned your blessings, as warrior and woman." His fingers drummed on his thigh. "Why did you make a deal with Wuodan and the Hunt?"

"To protect those who will travel by road and Drachifethe." "Is that all?"

"No. I was thinking … Lord Weiryn spoke of being bound to his lands and I wondered if the Hunt were bound with him. I didn't like the idea of them cooped up, and his gifts saved us as much as anyone's. I can't help his and the Green Lady's sadness but I wanted to do something to help if I could. Then it snowballed."

"What sadness?"

"Your edicts making it so difficult for Daine to see them."

He frowned. "They can meet on the Great Holidays. And the darkings bypass my bans anyway."

Kel stared. "As I understand it, my Lord, the next time Daine's allowed to see her parents freely will be when she's dead. I've no idea how long the Godborn may live after such a choice as she made, nor if Lord Weiryn has had other children, but the Green Lady had one only, and was murdered in her own home before her daughter was fourteen. Have you considered what Sarra Beneksri had to give up in becoming a god? If you'd had your brother offer me that choice when I was dead I'd have turned you down flat—it's cruel, whatever the need."

"And there was need." He sounded provoked, battlefury in his voice, and she knew she'd been scolding again, shame rising. "The Godborn create almost as much disorder as you."

Kel forgot she was feeling appalled and guilty. "Disorder? As far as I can tell I've just fixed some ghastly feud that goes back to godslain dragon kits while I'm doing my best to pacify a thousand-mile border that's been a mess for a century. You're the god who mixes war and justice, and honestly, there are days I think you've got order and disorder just as muddled up." Appalled caught up though not guilty and she kept her gaze on him as lightnings flickered and faded.

"I can't deny your courage, and my sister would tell me you have a point. There has always been a contradiction. It's what gods do."

Kel did drop her eyes. "Tell me."

Unexpectedly he laughed, a golden sound. "You of all mortals will appreciate that. And you have a knack, as Weiryn says. Yet I will not go back on my word."

Kel looked up, blinking. "Is the ban on his travel your word?" "An older law."

"Which says?"

"That a god granted the creation of another shall be bound to his or her lands for a century."

"Those lands being?"

"Their usual place in the divine realms."

"Lord Weiryn's place is partly with the Hunt. Which will often be here."

"Mortal realm."

"The hinterland of his major shrine."

"A four-foot shrine and a hundred mile hinterland?"

"What's a hundred miles to a god? A step, a breath. And the Hunt resolves you—a wild force for order." She shrugged. "I just hate seeing people or gods unhappy when it's hard to see the need. One mile or a hundred, let him and his wife come here when they will if their daughter is present. Is it so bad?"

"Maybe not, but there is good reason for that law."

"Then tell me, will the gods want to visit the Drachifethe?"

"By no means. Once is quite enough."

"I doubt it, but in that case you'll have no problem allowing all gods to do so at will. Just forget the riders."

He laughed again. "Now that is much cleverer. I will consider it, Protector of the Large. And still you ask nothing for yourself."

"What can I ask beyond life returned to me and peace to live it in?" "You'll think of something. Until then."

He strode past and turning she saw time must have been suspended again, for the last gods were only a dozen yards in front of him, and the central flicker of blessings continued. But behind him silver haze was fading, stone roadway sharpening in sunlight. At the centre he stood a moment, looking at the glowing statues as colours played over him, and raised his arms, silver bolts flashing to be absorbed by stone, making the statues ripple with power. He walked on, and along the roadway Kel could see Rainbow and Diamondflame waiting, the silver trail of the gods passing between them into unseen distance. Reaching them he paused, nodded to each, and disappeared into silver that vanished after him.

The statues glowed on, even in bright sunshine, but the dragons were leaping aloft in a storm of wings, buffeting groaning air, and as they gained height they were dancing, beginning to slide past and around one another, expanding over the river and far beyond. In the world below space contracted to where it ought to be, and the sky was a glory of movement, light through wings casting swathes of colour that flashed across the ground beside shadows of great bodies twisting and spiralling, dappling everything. It was like staring up into a summer forest but the leaves were shaking the wind and the sky twining through branches. They dwindled as they rose, dapple fading, and spiralling movement took them slowly west until they were lost in the sun.

One last thing remained so Kel's people knew what they must. Talk was beginning but fell

again as she set foot on the bridge and started walking. A dragon's tail curved over her head and she passed under the sinuous copper body, feeling heat pulse, and came to the central pier, turning to look at the adults' heads and the five kits perched on the top, bowing to each, hands over her heart in the Scanran way.

"Greetings all, my lords and ladies. Rest peacefully here, at the heart of New Hope. I don't know if Lord Sakuyo's blessing included his voice, but I'd be very grateful to use it for a moment, if I may." It was only a slight pressure in her throat, not the force on the battlefield, but voices carried over water. "All who hear, remember this and tell it that everyone may know. This bridge is Drachifethe, the Dragonwyrd, and the adult dragons were Firebreath and Golden Eggs. I cannot name the kits. Who would pass Drachifethe must pray for their peace. It is the only toll there'll ever be."

She bowed to the adult dragons again, feeling her throat ease, and walked slowly on to where her people and kin waited, and Dom.

Late in the evening Kel found herself sitting by a fire, Tobe and Irnai asleep at her side and Jump at her feet. Dom was there, in a Rathhausak group—Neal, Owen, Wolset and his lads, Uinse and Connac with survivors of their squads, Fanche and Saefas, Zerhalm. Of the living only Esmond was missing, and Peachblossom. There'd been jokes about how much easier crossing the Vassa would have been with a bridge that made Kel's head hurt, but for a while there had been silence while people just looked at Drachifethe and the glorious coil of dragons. A stream of people passed over it, pausing at the centre, and several fires away she could hear rumbling argument in Scanran about how a saga of what had happened should go. Neal was smiling when he wasn't frowning at archaisms, and she was wondering about teasing him when Jonathan sat beyond Tobe's curled body. His face was tired, magical expenditure showing, but he seemed relaxed, a traveller after a long journey and Kel considered him with detached interest.

"Keladry, we've had no chance to talk." After she'd crossed everyone had wanted to speak to her, and most had succeeded. "And you must be even more exhausted than I am. Is it over?"

"I think so, sire. Here, anyway. I wouldn't vouch for the Copper Isles." "I don't care about them. This is over?"

"So far as I know. Lord Mithros didn't think we'd speak again until I think of something to ask him for. I asked the Hag to meet me at Haven sometime but that's my business. Lord Weiryn might be about soon, with any luck, but that'll be Daine's business. If dragons show up it should be Guild business. It's over, except for my wedding."

"As crisp, clear, and incomprehensible as ever. So my only remaining northern problem right now is what to give you as a wedding present?"

She bridled. "You've already given me work to outlast my granddaughters."

"Not quite, Keladry, but it isn't your problem unless you feel like dropping a hint."

Behind her Dom stirred. "That's a dangerous invitation, sire."

"Oh piffle, Dom." From beyond the fire she heard Wolset's stifled snort and realised everyone was listening.

Jonathan smiled. "I suspect Domitan and whoever snorted are right, but nevertheless. Is there anything, Keladry? I owe you a very great deal. We all do."

Still stung by that incomprehensible Kel narrowed her eyes. "I'll offer you a choice. If you're thanking the Protector for peace, spend whatever six months of war would cost in a concerted effort to end the worst poverty in the lower city—investments that'll go on helping, not a give-away. Working drains would be a start, and piped water. Spend your money where the Guild's icelights can't reach. Or if you're thanking Kel, establish an annual scholarship for a girl of ability but no rank or fortune to train as a knight—fees, arms and armour, bruisebalm, horse, and a shield at the end of it, the lot, in Lalasa's name, not mine."

Jonathan shook his head. "I'll choose both if Thayet can give the scholarship. Walk with me a moment? There is one other thing."

She didn't want to get up but eased feet from under Jump as Dom came to take her place as a child pillow. As she followed the King towards his tent she felt more weary than anything, but when she saw Turomot and Gareth her mind sharpened.

"Have a seat, Keladry. Four days ago a messenger delivered the verdicts on those accused of treason—all forty -four. No surprises, and plenty of confessions, including Runnerspring's. The question is, what do I do with them?"

"Is there a choice?"

"There's only one penalty prescribed, but I can commute it."

"Pardon them, you mean?"

"Not quite, my Lady." Turomot was as precise as ever. "A pardon remits all penalty. They would be released to go about their business. But not all remissions of full penalty are pardons. There is precedent for a convict being allowed his life but neither title nor lands; also for a man let live but banished the realm."

"And why are you asking me, sire?"

"Because you've been closer to the gods in this than any of us, and I want to do the right thing, if I can. I ask your counsel."

She let her eyes drift around the tent as she asked herself what she did feel. Not vengeful; greater wrongs than treason had been laid to rest today—but not so soon and at great cost. Slates were not wiped clean without payment. "They have to lose rank, wealth, power, and influence, and confront what they did so they're fit to face the Black God. But I don't want more blood on anyone's hands." She paused, thinking of what she'd said to Lord Mithros. "They have the right to die on Traitor's Hill, if they'd rather, but if they'd as soon not I'd make them work the rest of their lives helping veterans who lost limbs to the killing devices, somewhere quiet where all that metalworking and administrative skill is devoted to finding a better answer than peglegs and braces. Gissa had an artificial hand, so it can be done, and gods know I gave Runnerspring reason to try. Their money can pay for it and boost pensions, and they can know that. Let them confront what they wrought and atone as best they may before the Black God calls them."

"Astonishing. Again. Turomot, is it legal?"

"I've told you, sire—if you're remitting penalties of Your Grace you can impose any

condition you want. Specific residence and work are practical, and estates have escheated to the Crown so what you do with the lands and monies is at your discretion."

"Then make it so, Gary, and if any of them do choose to die make it swift. No speeches."

Kel blinked. "Just one, sire—like Genlith, they die unmourned and without plea for the Black God's mercy. If they choose to face his judges now they're saying they've nothing to atone for."

Jonathan nodded sharply. "Gary, tell them so before they decide."

Duke Gareth was looking at her strangely but tiredness was overtaking her. "If that's it, can I go to bed?"

"Not quite yet." Jonathan's face became austere. "I have also had a letter from Lord Burchard. He consented to be questioned under truthspell, and knew nothing even of Genlith's treason—too mired in his grief to see what was under his nose, I think. And we have found those who did know. In any case, he tells me he disavows all connection with Genlith, Runnerspring, his brother-in -law, and others of his among the convicted, desires to withdraw to a contemplative life, and asks my leave to resign Stone Mountain to his eldest surviving son. Who is just of age." Royal fingers drummed. "It seems acceptable, but I wanted your opinion."

Kel thought about that arrogant lord's passage into confining, selfish grief and his involuntary, visceral reaction when the elemental had told him Joren had rejoiced at an image of his death. With the icon of his grief so intimately besmirched, what did he have left? And he had already withdrawn from Corus and the affairs of the realm, while a fief as large and important as Stone Mountain could not be left to his broken indirection. She shrugged.

"Gone is good. But something needs to be done about the son who's inheriting. I don't even know his name and gods know what he's been taught, but he couldn't have been set a worse example and he must have had a truly miserable time of it." A thought struck her. "I assume he won't inherit Stone Mountain's seat on the Council?"

"Certainly not at any time soon, but the power of that fief can't safely be ignored."

"I don't care if he earns it with his actions and rule. Right now he has to need help, not a burden like that. And there must be a decade's worth of hard work needed to sort out the mess his father will have left. Why don't you ask Macayhill to help him with any immortals needing a treaty, and lend him a good royal clerk who is properly trained in administration. I could do with one of those myself."

Turomot was smiling to himself but Duke Gareth's eyebrows were chasing his receding hair upward.

"You bear Lord Burchard no ill will, Lady Keladry? He has caused you much harm and as lord of the fief is complicit in its treason whatever he managed not to know."

"I pity what he has come to, Your Grace, as I despise how he got there. So long as his contemplative life is truly that, and his influence gone from family, fief, and realm alike, I am content." She stood, feeling the weariness in every muscle. "He as much as Runnerspring needs all the time he can get to atone to the Black God. And the Drachifethe will see most of what the traitors supposed themselves to believe in swept away in a generation or two, not that it ever really existed. Besides, do you really want to imagine grudges to cling to after what we all saw today?"

He had no answer, and with the King's smiling permission she made her way back to the

sleeping children and peaceful men around the fire.


	34. Chapter 32

Orison

Chapter Thirty-Two — Orison

17 May – August

For a wedding attended by thousands, including the royal family and a bevy of great nobles, Kel's went smoothly. The Scanrans had gone, marching north over Drachifethe, shelters dismantled and fields returned to proper purpose; so too had army 'escort' companies (though commanders remained) and Dukes Gareth and Turomot, with various Councillors, leaving a small retinue and the Own under Ettinor and Raoul to attend Jonathan and Thayet. The sense of ease as crowding dropped had everyone relaxing, and the return of some kind of ordinary life, however the royals might still be there, was a palpable pleasure.

The aftermath of whatever had happened was also a kind of peacefulness, if only because everyone's capacities for wonder were exhausted. Dom aside, only to Daine and Numair had Kel offered any more explanation than she'd given the King, describing her conversations with Diamondflame and encounters with Gainel and Mithros; they knew enough to understand, and her plea about Weiryn concerned them more than anyone. Daine had asked if it were a scheme to keep them at New Hope, but her eyes had been bright and her embrace hard. To everyone else, even kin, Kel said only that they'd seen what happened and it wasn't mortal business anyway.

Drachifethe spoke for her. Everyone who'd seen it built had walked across it and the toll she'd imposed needed no enforcing; the stone dragons glowed night and day, and none could pass them unaware or fail of respect. Word spread like wildfire and people for miles around— Scanrans, Tortallans, even some speedy Gallans—made pilgrimage to experience the marvel; barely complete, the Smugglers' Rest was doing a roaring trade, and the settlement around the bridge had already become a community at the heart of New Hope. Nor had King or Council defaulted: the Great North and Smiskir Roads were in ever better shape, prosperity already beginning to flow along them and spread into the lands around.

The Yamani delegation arrived later than intended, blown far off course by what Takemahou-sensei darkly called mage-meddled winds in the Emerald Ocean. Kel accepted Prince Eitaro's apologies on her own and the King's behalves so graciously he couldn't possibly repeat them, gravely informed him and Lord Kiyomori of Lord Sakuyo's double manifestation and pointed out the tiny flowers studding the green, sending the kamunushi as white as the painted women, before saying that she'd arranged for His Imperial Highness to visit the site of the second manifestation, where other gods had also appeared. With that for them to chew on she could liberate Patricine, Toshuro, and their children for her parents to carry off, draw Takemahou-sensei aside to offer thanks for his mageblasts before hooking him up with Numair for a mage's account of how it all worked out, and leave the King and Queen to hold the fort with Roald and Shinko while she and Dom slid away to join her family. She saw the Yamanis off next morning with her parents and Ettenor leading the Own's First as a escort, and when they returned three days later all were extremely respectful; if it extended her pilgrimage routes to Yaman that was next year's problem, and welcome anyway.

Amid the peculiar pleasure of getting to know Patricine and Toshuro again, as an adult with a different perspective than the girl who'd bidden them farewell to seek page training, Kel found herself wondering hard about those mage-meddled winds, and took Ebony to a meeting with Daine and Numair.

"There's two things, and I don't know how you're going to feel about either of them."

Daine smiled. "Fair warning, but we're all so far in your debt Kel I expect we can live with it."

"Oh forget debts, Daine. It's nothing to do with that, just what's right, and needed. The first thing is that Ebony asked me if darkings can become Guild apprentices and journeymen." Daine's eyebrows shot up and Kel held up a hand. "I said I couldn't see why not but needed to ask you."

"Why do you want that, Ebony? Do the others too?"

"Yes. Fun."

"What sort of fun?"

"Go with merchants. Go on ships. Show letters between places. Work with mortals. Not spy. Communicate. Guild give status. Rights. Guild protect darkings. Darkings have fun."

Daine sat back, looking thoughtful. "That's the longest speech I've ever heard from a darking. Guild journeymen, eh? Journeydarkings, anyway. I'm not their guardian, Kel, but it sounds fine to me."

"You're their conscience, Daine. Which brings me to those winds the Yamanis met. Why would mages mess with weather out there?"

Numair frowned. "Good question. I think mages must have been messing somewhere else and the effects got out of control."

"Mmm, but where? Daine, have you heard from Aly?"

"No—we can't have that. All else aside, Alanna would be wanting to be maternal all the

time."

Kel grinned. "I don't disagree—it's why I wanted something ordinary for darkings to do, and ship -to-shore communication would be a boon for any trade fleet. But if there's been a magical storm in the Copper Isles I want Ebony to tell us, if he knows. The timeway likes its storms."

"That's a thought." Numair was still frowning.

"Ebony?"

"Not mind. Mortals worry. Darkings know all darkings know."

"Which is the problem, but I don't think I mind this time. Numair?"

"Nor me, Magelet. Magical storms are assassination weapons. Go ahead, Ebony."

"Storm sink boat, kill Dunevon, others. Aly sad. Think storm magical. Think Imajane. Crooked God meddle. All Rittevon mages killed after."

Numair blinked and Kel swallowed. "Dunevon was just a boy. Numair, can you scry that storm?"

He nodded grimly. "If magic killed a king there'll be traces."

"Do it, please. Then we need to see the King."

The storm had been magical, and the Copper Isles clearly the centre of disturbance. Jonathan didn't like it, nor Prince Eitaro or any remaining Councillors, though Kel was careful to say she believed there to be divine interest on both sides there, and Lord Sakuyo to be allied with Kyprioth against the Rittevons. The King nodded.

"I wouldn't be for the Rittevons for love nor money. Under them the Isles have been trouble for everyone. Josiane was cracked, and if Imajane murdered her nephew she's no better. What's our response?"

The result, after firespell communication with Emperor Kaddar and His Imperial Majesty, a strain even for Numair at those distances, was a Tortallan and Carthaki ban on trade with the Isles until King Dunevon's murderers were caught and duly punished. With longstanding tensions over fishing grounds there wasn't very much Yamani trade with the Isles but that too would cease. It was all Kel could do, but she thought there was a smile on Lord Sakuyo's face in his shrine the next morning.

Kel's Seabeth-and-Seajen grandmother was almost as well-behaved as the Yamanis, though it took intervention. The old lady had arrived with a sizeable retinue the same day as Prince Eitaro and just in time to see Kel taking leave of Quenuresh, who stayed to be introduced. Merian of Seabeth-and-Seajen had the spine Ilane and Kel had inherited and stayed on her feet, but Quenuresh's promise to see Kel at her wedding, and a cheery salute to Barzha and Hebakh, watching from a gable, had her staring. Later in the evening, after many presentations, Kel overheard a piercing whisper to her Mama about the dubiety, not to say disgrace, of hasty marriage to an incomplete younger son and such woeful lack of control over an underage child who could surely do better. She was reflectively feeding Bonedancer samples of Yuki's pickles, of which it seemed to approve, and hearing the pain in her Mama's soft reply walked over to the old woman with a gaze that brought silence and a slow flush.

"Grandma, I've faced the Graveyard Hag and her hyena, so you really don't scare me anymore, and underage or not I now rank you. So do Papa and Anders, of course, and your daughter, not that anyone could tell. I don't care a hoot what you think of me or Dom, but I care very much that you always hurt Mama and I won't stand for it. She and Papa are going with Prince Eitaro tomorrow to the Drachifethe and you can go too, to speak to the statues as one old dragon to another and learn some kindness as well as better manners. Or I'll have stormwings carry you back to Seabeth in a spidren net and you can be vicious to people there."

Bonedancer leaned forward as if to tweak the old woman's nose before clattering its beak, and though her Mama had hands over her mouth Kel didn't bother to conceal a smile.

"Succinctly put, Bonedancer. And even you must acknowledge it to be your senior, Grandma, as all the immortals are. Even Amiir'aan's more than twice your age, whatever you've decided it is today, so if you've any argument it needs to involve more than supposed seniority. Meantime, I need Mama for something so we'll say goodnight."

She wasn't going to leave her mother to cope with the one person in the world she couldn't deal with and took her arm. The night was wonderfully warm, the terrace crowded with Yamanis; Bonedancer flapped over to investigate and they headed for Lalasa's rooms where Kel's wedding dress was almost finished. Ilane was silent until they were in the tunnel; when she did speak her voice wasn't steady though whether with laughter or tears was hard to tell.

"Sweeting, that was splendid but I don't think it'll help. I'm sorry you heard her moaning but I can cope with it."

"You shouldn't have to, Mama, and you won't if you get her on the Drachifethe. Ask the statues for Lord Sakuyo's blessing on her."

They found Lalasa talking to Patricine, Adie, and Orie, and besides female conversation a fitting was clearly called for. Kel didn't mind as it made her Mama happy, and her sisters' exclamations at her scars were a small price. More importantly, her Grandma did, stiff-necked, visit Drachifethe, and came back very subdued and distinctly more inclined to laugh, often to her own surprise. For as long as Kel could remember she had inhibited and worried others with withering disapproval; Mindelan delight in her overthrow became a catalyst for pervasive good humour, and collective enjoyment of new guests.

Tired as it was of visitors New Hope approved these, for they were Lady Kel's and Captain Dom's personal guests and a good impression was needed. For Kel the nerve-racking bit was Dom's family, but his parents and brother couldn't have been nicer and were far too goggle-eyed to voice any doubts. Duchess Wilina arrived with them, and her warmth to Kel helped, but once the Masbolles sensed the atmosphere and saw Kel was friendly as well as a dragon-riding, king-slaying legend, they relaxed into the cheerful bunch one would expect of people related to Dom and Neal. Most of Kel's friends were at New Hope already but Ferghal returned and a Corus contingent came with her Maids, Gower and Salma, Stefan Groomsman, Master Orman and his family, Master Randall with his, and not entirely to her surprise Jerrold Tinker, passing as boss of the accompanying wagon train, laden with who knew what. Coram and Rispah were in the party, as were George and Tkaa, escorting Holloran. With the royal family and half the Council present, and the Yamani delegation occupying an entire, reconfigured and redecorated barrack, there was precious little space within the walls but rooms in the cliffs for all. Alanna collected her husband with Coram and Rispah, and Kel took the Rogue to one of the small rooms in the corral headquarters she'd kept back against emergencies.

"Keeping me under your eye, Kel?"

"Not in the least, Jer. Go where you will. You should say hello to Thayet, Roald, and Shinko. Add Jonathan and make up the set." He grinned. "I thought we might be glad of a place to talk privately."

"That we might. I'm here in vulgar curiosity and to wish you and your man well, not that you're short of good wishes. But I hear you've opened an establishment to rival the Dancing Dove."

"No, to complement it. The Smugglers' Rest is run by ex-smugglers, Jer—did you hear that too? The bridge put them out of business—no help for it—so I found them alternative occupation. I can find that for others too, at need—but permanent occupations, yes? New Hope's not a hinterland farm run by someone's brother."

He laughed. "I hear you. And if what I hear about big dogs in your woods is true I'd be a fool not to. I like that offer—retirement can be a problem in my people's line of work."

"Fine. Just don't send anyone those dogs will chase. They are the Wild Hunt, Jer. I'm not joking—the road will be safe and that's their charge, but while they'll not touch the innocent anyone with a bad enough stain on their conscience will attract them and judgement will be out of my hands."

"And what's bad enough?"

"Collect stories of the Hunt and work it out. If Wuodan turns up while you're here—he's the lead hound, as Lord Weiryn's the Huntsman—I'll introduce you. Or ask the Crooked God to check, if you trust him and he's not too busy in the Copper Isles. I met him, by the way, and I

wouldn't trust him with a handkerchief, never mind anyone's life. But you know, really—the Hunt doesn't chase pickpockets or even thieves. It's the violent, and I don't mean rushers—those who kill for gain or hate, or because they like it. I know one story where a man who killed a faithful ass is Hunted, and I believe it. Another about kidnappers, with the child returned alive, and one about rape, so it's not just killing. It's things that make you sick to think of." She held up a hand as his mouth opened. "Heartsick, soulsick, not just gutsick after the deed. There can be need to kill, gods know. Since we last met, Jer, I've killed more men than I can count, and Wuodan lets me pass. Look at a list of my page year and Roald's too, sometime. And you could say I did it for gain—it's brought me enough. But not my own gain, and the gods know I've never gloated in it—enough of them have had a good rummage to check, believe me. Wuodan's more interested in the heart than reasons, I think, but it comes to the same thing."

"No-one a dog would instinctively growl at. That's clear, Kel. I've no-one seeking retirement just now, but you've all the men with cancelled mage-marks becoming New Hopers and wanting families to move north, so there'll be folk along by the by."

"And welcome. There's lifetimes of work to be done. Any honest pair of hands is, if they're not forsworn in coming or abandoning anyone they shouldn't. Do me one favour, though?"

"Glad to. Probably."

She grinned. "We'll see. Make sure you meet as many immortals as you can, especially Quenuresh and Queen Barzha. Anyone coming here has to be able to cope. If you think someone won't—dissuade them? I'll expel if I have to but I'd rather not have that kind of trouble in the first place."

"Fair enough, though I think you'd be surprised at how attitudes to immortals are changing. There's three paintings everyone who can use a brush is copying as fast as they can. One's of you firing a great bow at a siege machine of some kind that's burning, from that rock above us, with a griffin beside you and a strange bird above, another's you and that spidren-mage watching a dragon, with basilisks and ogres beside you and Scanrans falling down underneath, and the third's got you with a glaive at Maggur's throat. They're selling to everyone, rich and poor."

Kel was horrified. "You're joking? Where did they come from?"

"I don't know, Kel, but they're very good. One of your Maids has the originals—says she was given them by an old man in Mutt Piddle Lane, who said they were a gift for you she should show to everyone, then went off laughing. No-one else saw him but she got them somewhere, and she's paying all the fees for copying them to Lalasa, charging the rich much more, so I've not interfered."

"An old man, laughing in Mutt Piddle Lane. I just bet he was."

"You know him then?"

"Oh, I think so. Have you got these monstrosities?"

"No, but you're getting them as a wedding present." Kel gnashed her teeth and he grinned. "Tough. Comes with your territory. Which reminds me, what do you want for a wedding present? It's a terrible problem."

"What is it with monarchs that you can't think up wedding presents for yourselves?" She shook her head. "I'd say surprise me but that wouldn't be wise in your case. There's not much I

still need, Jer, save children of my own, and that's taken care of. Do something good you wouldn't do otherwise, and mark the anniversary each year the same way."

"A Protector's Day gift from the Rogue. I like the sound of that." "Gah!"

She left him laughing and went to find her Maids and see the worst, only to be politely refused as it was bad luck to see presents before a wedding. Still worse, the sums of money involved promised to become immense, and with the territory she now had she'd need it, whatever the embarrassment. And as if Sakuyo's jokes weren't bad enough, an idle king had been chasing carvers, and a final Drachifethe panel for the steps was underway while the score already completed were being petrified in radiant colours. Kawit had known how to fix the beauty Kitten could bring to stone and the results were spectacular. Icelight duplicates were being created; the originals were going up along the wall of the steps, meaning even Kel's retreat to the Eyrie now confronted her repeatedly with herself being ludicrously heroic.

Then again, she didn't need to retreat to the Eyrie because she and Dom had a house—a strange, wonderful mansion, unlike anything anywhere. Much of the available ashlar having gone into the Drachifethe or been appropriated by dragons the builders made up the shortfall with beautifully faced scree and finstone rubble, as well as custom-cut blocks, and the result was extremely elegant. A triangular compound was marked by a low wall within which the surface had been turfed; the house was a wide U with one limb bent in, surrounding a deeper level, also turfed and studded with the tiny white flowers which had spread overnight once one had been transplanted from the green.

The shorter, bent limb faced terrace and shrines at an angle, with a formal entrance, broad steps patterned in finstone and limestone curving left and right to meet at one of Geraint's perrons and deliver people through a portico to a suite of nobly proportioned reception rooms with wide balconies for summer use. Even Kel had to agree there would be balls, and immortals needed space; besides, the rooms were beautiful and had glass windows—about which she could have kicked herself because she'd seen glass blown and knew what it was made of, just as she'd known basilisks could liquefy as well as petrify. Glassmaking hadn't occurred to anyone until Amiir'aan asked an innocent question, but would be another Guild craft and the panes facing the shrines and central greensward, doubled within wooden frames for winter insulation, were a striking sample. Above one end of the reception rooms were offices, and above the other a room for exercise and training when it was wet—large enough to pattern dance and conduct a class.

The base, parallel to the fin, was a private apartment. Taller-than-mortal visitors were accommodated but the rooms were family spaces. Kel had spoken to Irnai, offering adoption, but the girl declined, saying she remembered her parents and would stay theirs, but she did like the idea of living in the house, and had fallen in love with a curved bedroom from which the shrines could just be seen. With Kitten's help she was trying out colour schemes, and if Kel and Dom both wished they could do more it was a boon to see her happy and looking only her true age, most of the time.

The longer limb, parallel to the last barrack, consisted of guest rooms for mortals and immortals. Had anyone asked Kel if forty would suffice she'd have thought they'd lost their minds, but having installed her kin there weren't many spare. Demadria and Gavin had come with Ferghal, Avinor in tow, so besides parents and Grandma there were seven siblings with six spouses and fifteen children; as well as Dom's parents and brother, and, given how crowded Neal and Yuki were in their quarters, Baird and Wilina. Other guests she left where they were, save Raoul and Buri, and Lalasa and Tomas, protesting but glad of a larger space for the wedding-dress and final fussings about it.

The whole stupendous thing had gone from a building-site Kel was studiously ignoring to finished-enough-to-present while she'd been at Drachifethe for a few days early in June signing a treaty with the spidrens laired by the Smiskir. She hadn't had time to ride up to their valley but Barzha had flown over it, Scarlet relaying the view so she and the spidren could agree boundaries. The immortals had been holed up, hunting game and avoiding the war, not eating Clan Swithtrem or its livestock, but Kel sent that clanchief as well as Hamrkeng copies of the treaty with a bland note about prevention and cure. As she left boatmen were pleasingly practicing shooting the bridge and she spent the ride talking diplomacy with her Papa, who'd come to observe, so the delegation waiting gleefully to present the wonder-house took her by surprise and left her very emotional. Her people enjoyed it no end, and they were all wonders too, so it didn't take long for delight to join overwhelmedness; nor, as the main bedroom already boasted an enormous bed, to begin a process Dom called blessing the rooms that promised to be very enjoyable.

All in all, therefore, things were going smoothly, and the only hitches were unexpected guests. Three days before Midsummer Buri went into labour and was delivered of a boy; Baird was astonished at the ease of it in a woman of her age bearing a first child but Neal simply pointed to the Goddess's spiral, Buri wasn't complaining, and Raoul was adorably entranced by his son; the only problem was that the dress Buri had intended to wear to the wedding was suddenly too large and not designed for nursing. Lalasa rose to the emergency, and Alan as Raoul's squire had the job of making sure his knight master remembered to eat, sleep, and turn up when and where he should, so that new arrival was readily accommodated. His parents had long since decided a boy would be Alan Raoul Jonathan, and with godsparents to hand—Jonathan, Thayet, and George— they thought an immediate nameday called for and it happened in a whirl on Midsummer Eve, Holloran presiding. Later that day a less expected arrival was Ragnar Ragnarsson and some clanchiefs from the delegation, who felt a clanchief shouldn't wed without others to do them honour. Kel thought about tearing her hair and made a note to get a spellmirror for the bridge guards, but she liked Ragnar and still had a few guest rooms, so Scanrans bemused by a remarkable building very little of which had been there when they'd left six weeks before joined the mix. Her sisters and Duchess Wilina were taken aback and what her grandma thought remained mercifully unknown, but her nieces and nephews were delighted, Ragnar and his fellows were all—interestingly—men who dealt well with excited and curious children, and she had other things to do on her last unwedded evening.

Fanche and Lalasa were hosting a female dinner for her, with guests from Thayet and Cricket, her Mama and sisters, Yuki with Ryokel, and Daine with Sarralyn, to Reben Carpenter's wife, resident less than a month. What Dom and men in general were doing Kel had no idea but Neal and Owen had been seen conspiring with Wolset so she considered herself well out of whatever it was, mischievously invited the Scanrans to tag along with Baird if they wanted, and let herself be escorted to the messhall by Yuki and Shinko. The food was exceptional, company sentimental, conversation frequently lewd, and laughter loud; only the speeches were less than welcome in their remorseless exaggerations by people who knew far too much about her life anyway, but she was getting used to that and kept her obligatory reply to heartfelt observations— first, that she'd found the hard way that being a living lover was vastly better than being a dead virgin, and second, that climbing into bed with Dom had been just about the only thing she'd been able to do entirely by herself in the whole saga of New Hope, so the toast was to them all. The talk ran late and stayed lewd but with her Mama's help she slipped away in reasonable time for a solid night's sleep, and dreamed of a future studded with tiny white flowers that smelled of blossom.

Not even her wedding could keep Kel from dawn glaive practice. Pattern dancing brought inner calm and she lost herself in precise movement and pure balance of body and weapon. Reaching the end she became aware of a grey-haired Yamani woman watching, glaive in hand, who bowed, offering a sparring match. Kel bowed back and took guard. At the first touch she knew this was a master and that she was being tested—but she was in good form, her deflections feather-light. No opportunity for riposte was offered, and as speed increased they crossed a boundary Yamanis spoke of—actual blade contact ceased, incipient counters leading to the abandonment of attack before it developed, movement diminishing though concentration never wavered until they were almost still save for gestural movements of their glaives. Kel had never reached that state before, though she'd seen it as a child in Imperial displays, and had no idea how it ended until her opponent repeated a move in eyeblink succession, and disengaged, stepping back to breathe deeply. Applause broke out from watching Yamanis, including Yuki and Shinko, standing with Prince Eitaro, and Kel hastily bowed as properly as she could with glaive in hand. To her immense surprise he bowed back, imperial-to-noble, and came forward, formal mode softened by pleasure.

"That was very fine, Lady Keladry. I have never before seen any but a Yamani achieve the perfect state."

"Your Imperial Highness is too gracious. This one has never before achieved anything like

it."

The grey-haired woman smiled. "Only for lack of an able opponent."

Eitaro nodded. "There must be two sensei. But I am rude—Lady Keladry, allow me to make known to you Hayato-sensei."

Kel offered a deep bow, student-to-master, for she knew that name and if she'd had any idea the sensei was among His Imperial Highness's retinue would have sought her out. Hayato returned a bow of equals.

"Wrong mode, my Lady, for you demonstrate mastery, as Her Royal and Imperial Highness believed you would, given opportunity. And without formal instruction since you were ten, I believe. Commendable."

Flattered, Kel knew her limits. "You are too generous, Hayato-sensei. My skill is far short of yours."

"Not so far, my Lady, and not generous at all. As His Imperial Highness says, only sensei reach that state. I shall report it to the Temple of Weapons as I am required to do."

Kel couldn't argue with that, bowed again properly, and was applauded again, lowering her eyes and wishing she had her shukusen. She regretted she couldn't bring herself to wear it regularly, but Runnerspring's hand intruded too much. Shinko was smiling and Kel's brain caught up—the test had been a wedding present of a very Yamani kind: had she not achieved the required state the honour of sparring with Hayato-sensei would have pleased her, and as she had she began her wedding day with a new status that would have interesting consequences when she and Dom visited the Islands. Meantime there were congratulations to accept, which was fine because as what had happened sank in she was feeling far too pleased with herself and the world to mind.

After thanking Hayato, Shinko, and the Prince Kel made excuses and went to change. In the usual course of a wedding day she'd spend the whole morning being dressed and made-up, but need allowed her to avoid such foolishness. There was no difficulty giving everybody a view of the ceremony, but even her new reception rooms wouldn't hold everyone present, nor the

messhall. Kin and personal guests had to have priority, but there were many New Hopers who wanted to give a token or personal felicitations on the day, and after discussions with Master Oakbridge she'd invented protocol to suit, to his scandalised relief. She dressed in her kimonos, with Heliana's help, thought hard before squaring shoulders and adding the shukusen, and after breakfast went back to the terrace before the shrines to sit with Dom, available to whoever wanted.

It took all morning but her people appreciated what she was doing and kept things brisk— fortunately, as most of New Hope's population, civilian and military, seemed to be among them as well as friends with their own gifts. The presents were mostly hand-made—woven, carved, crafted, or drawn; if somewhat motley, given from the heart and very welcome with the rooms she had to furnish. Heliana kept a list, and Tobe, Loesia, Gydo, and an earnest Meech ferried items to a display in one of the house's reception rooms while keeping Kel and Dom supplied with tea; her siblings, parents, and in-laws-to -be were present in a loose crowd—meeting liegers of their kin, Kel realised with a shock Dom shared when she murmured the thought.

In one way it was easy for her to understand what he thought of becoming a count because her status as a countess still seemed largely unreal; but it had been hard for her to grasp the idea of status coming from her, and she'd worried the Countess-and-Protector would stand in his light when Dom and Kel should be side-by-side this day. He didn't seem to mind, content to be equal in private but woman and husband in public; she didn't think it right but had taken her Mama's advice.

"You're not going to like this, sweeting, but you're his support as he's yours, and you've to let him grow, not try to stretch and wrap him round. I know it's new to you too, but you've been a commander more than two years, and he a captain less than one. Remember how hard you found thinking past your modesty, and give him the same credit." Ilane smiled wickedly. "I doubt his pride'll be bruised, but if someone does manage it you can make amends later by being very accommodating."

"Mama!"

She thought it sound advice, though, and fun besides. The dynamics of—she didn't want to say dominance because it was mutual, but initiating things in their relationship—was complicated, woven around her awakened needs, physical strength, and long conviction of undesirability, and his wound, that he still believed more ugly than honourable, with the deep sense of unworthiness he'd acquired with it. Latterly, combat strain and her self-loathing after the siege had been in play as well, but the gifts of Lords Mithros and Sakuyo promised improvements. She'd told him of her pregnancy, making him very happy, and took advantage of the present conversation to mention Beltane tradition and tell her Mama, who squeaked and hugged her, crackling excitement.

The presence of veterans and men he commanded among their well-wishing liegers was helping Dom, she thought—military command and mutual respect offering a base for the greater step. It was she who'd taken liege-oaths but he and the child they'd made were implicit in them, and that made him feel in receipt of unearned command as well as unearned gifts; but there were lovingly made and grateful presents specifically for him as well. On the morning after Beltane she'd made it clear calling her 'My Lady Countess' was a bad idea and he would remain 'Cap'n Dom', as he was now, not become 'My Lord Count'—though she intended to try it on him at least once when he was in no position to object.

There were inevitably some troublesome presents. Neal had written several bad haiku he insisted on reading in a worse accent and Yamani fans were in use for a while; less forgivably, he started an artistic interlude because Ragnar insisted on declaiming a passage from a saga-in-

progress about Kel, narrating the destruction of the trebuchet. Most New Hopers could follow and Kel would have buried her head in her hands if Yuki and Keiichi hadn't between them been providing Prince Eitaro and other Yamanis with a running translation that even without alliteration sounded so peculiar she had a hard time not laughing. Instead she had to look impressed, thank a grinning Ragnar, and repeat her haiku about the Emperor's glaives and Lord Sakuyo's grace when Prince Eitaro asked, though how he knew about the latter was a mystery Yuki would answer for.

The Scanran saga cued the paintings from the Maid who was giving them on behalf of all, and Kel had no choice but to allow them to be displayed—at which point a long silence fell broken only by shuffling feet as people rotated in to see. Kel just stared, and while every bit as horrified as she'd anticipated had to concede Jer had been right—they were very good, and she had no doubt of a divine hand in their making. They heroised her ridiculously, but besides vivid colour and arresting composition there were things everywhere that made them much more than hagiography. The first overemphasised the great warrior but also immortals who stood alongside, recognisably Quenuresh, Var'istaan, and Kuriaju, who all came to look; Junior could be made out high above the illusory dragon, the colour of Firebreath, whose swirling form with the floating runes connected the observing group to fearful Scanrans, shown looking up with expressions of pious awe while others, including Maggur and a recognisable Genlith quailed.

The second painting was just as bad in making her look beautiful and stern as well as strong and noble, but again did more. Ebony and Junior no longer anchored her feet, accurately bloody as footprints showed, but respectively occupied one shoulder, echoing the bow's curve, and stood in streamlined elegance at her side like a flame-coloured bird dog eager to fetch the trebuchet. The incandescent engine was a blaze of white it almost hurt to look at, but if you did details emerged from the dazzle—frame, treadmill, and counterweight box, though mercifully the giants who'd died within were lost in the conflagration. Above, the thunderhead towered with dire menace, and against a jag of lighting glowing in one lobe of the storm a sunbird hovered, drably accurate.

The third painting continued the themes, a sunlit Kel spearheading the Tortallan charge to place her gleaming glaive at Maggur's shadowed throat, but stormwings were already there, a glittering phalanx in the sunlight, and Barzha was coming in behind Maggur, bright and terrible in the darkness that enfolded him. Junior was again present, a splash of colour against black clouds, and the centaurs, creating the tunnel of arrows she'd ridden through. Other Tortallans were identifiable—Alanna, Raoul, Wyldon, Brodhelm, Voelden, Seaver, and, heartstoppingly, Merric with Rogal at his side; beyond them faces blurred in a swirling grey Kel was convinced was meant to be ghosts, and in which she found herself thinking she could see this or that dead face, Einur, Fulcher and Gil Lofts, other Tortallans who lived on in her dreams, but civilians and Scanrans too, the dead of Rathhausak, even Freja Haraldsdottir.

The Yamanis were as transfixed as everyone and Kel thought it better to face the music, so having respectfully asked Prince Eitaro and Lord Kiyomori to attend she had the Maid relate her tale of the bright-eyed old man who'd come unseen to a crowded Corus slum and departed laughing. After Kel reminded them of the godbow and its quiver she asked Daine to explain what a sunbird was and confirm the second painting's accuracy in that respect, even though the birds never left the divine realms. Carefully neutral questioning elicited the fact that everyone saw ghosts in the grey—their own ghosts with reason to loathe Maggur, if they had them, and a strong impression of vengeful dead if they didn't. She turned to a white-faced Lord Kiyomori.

"They must have been painted by someone who was here, my Lord, an unknown painter of great skill and purpose working in secrecy, and they turn up in a mysterious old man's arms in a Corus slum, given to a Protector's Maid. It adds up, don't you think? Especially as beyond the jest of Quenuresh's illusion the paintings are a multiple joke—on me, because I find them

embarrassing, but also on any prejudiced against immortal allies or female warriors, and in putting Junior—the griffin—in all of them. I can tell you what the three of them are called too, I think —Even thunder stills to hear Him ease His lungs. It certainly fits."

Kiyomori was having that po-faced priests' problem in collocating 'divine' and 'joke', which Kel thought a poor show for a celebrant of Lord Sakuyo, and seemed to think a Yamani god would never employ a gaijin style, but Keiichi, Takemahou-sensei and others were nodding sharply, as was Prince Eitaro, voice imperially sober.

"Lord Sakuyo has been known to honour his Blessed with art, and if the Blessed is Tortallan it makes sense for the art to be so, Kiyomori. And the divine is greater than Yaman—we claim Lord Sakuyo, not define him and it would be impious to try. Besides, this full gaikokujin style is better for battle scenes, I think—our Muromachi monochromes would do them scant justice and even the best Kamakura emaki would lack this colour and vividness. I am only sorry His Imperial Majesty cannot see them."

Kel didn't have quite that detached a view but nodded. "I am sorry for that too, Your Imperial Highness. I would have them copied for him, as I understand they have been in Corus, but I fear the results would not be the same."

There was discussion of a court artist who might be sent, into which Jonathan and Thayet were drawn, and eventually the paintings were taken to the house and over Kel's muttered protests hung in the main reception room. Then it was back to receive more presents. With great ceremony Prince Eitaro presented a gift on behalf of the emperor, paired swords for Kel, katana and ko-wazikashi, resembling the swords of duty and law her Mama had saved and implicitly recognising her as samurai, and a katana for Dom; Kel replied properly, privately giving thanks more to Cricket for coaching than the emperor for swords she'd probably never use except for display but would have to practice with all the same. Jonathan and Thayet made their announcements of works and scholarship, which brought a burst of applause, and had tokens for the day—a pair of gold signet rings with Kel's triple-bordered owl and crossed glaives. Keiichi had found a beautifully illustrated old copy of Hajikoru's Fourteen Moonlight Dances with the Naginata and others also chose books; an edition of the Hamrkengsaga from Harailt, a hysterically inaccurate treatise on dragons from Numair with splendid pictures showing improbable beasts, and a more accurately illustrated edition of Orchan from Wyldon and his family—who had to Kel's delight come from Cavall. The new scar across his face had healed well, and there was an odd look in his eyes as he watched Owen with Margarry on his arm present Kel with a silver hairbrush and, grey eyes level, Dom with a very fine cane.

"I had the notion you might want to grow your hair, Kel. Dreamed it and it seemed right. Short hair needs brushing too, so it was safe. And I know you don't like using a cane, Dom, but I hoped you wouldn't mind a nice one and it is practical. I'm no good with books or things like that so I thought I'd chance it and my Lord agreed. I hope you don't mind."

Kel was holding her breath but it was hard to be offended with Owen, and she and Dom had spoken about his reluctance to display the consequence of his injury; for a sergeant he was right that needing a cane undermined authority, but for a more senior commander that wasn't true, and for a noble it had little effect if there was respect. She could see the emotional argument chasing within him for a second until he smiled and embraced Owen and she breathed again.

Jewellery was also popular, with a beautiful copper-and-emerald necklace from Alanna and George, who murmured that things overseas seemed to be coming along nicely, a diamond one from Baird and Wilina, and enough earrings to oblige Kel to have her ears pierced—which Yuki and Salma, among the guilty donors, knew full well she'd always been reluctant to do because she didn't see the point of adorning her plainness and it involved a hot needle. There were

less usual items—gleaming beaten-copper armbands from Ragnar and the clanchiefs, matching silver bracelets and anklets from her sisters with pointed suggestions that she didn't always have to wear breeches or floor-length skirts, brooches, jewelled pins, even a tiara, which she'd have thought very presumptuous if it hadn't been from Shinko in the red gold found in Yaman, which caught the auburn in her hair and from others' exclamations she had to assume looked good.

Kel had had a long conversation with her parents, dissuading them from extravagance on her behalf when Mindelan's treasury was under strain, and another with Dom's family, not carrying such a burden but comfortable rather than wealthy, and willing to limit their gifts to ownership of Butter, hitherto a loan, and a fine cloak. The worst of it was that the grinning horse was there, with Peachblossom, Alder, and Hoshi in support—animal behaviour Tortallans used to Daine had come to expect but that induced excitement among Yamanis and Scanrans. But she and Dom had still faced the conundrum of the bride's and groom's reciprocal gifts, which didn't matter especially to either of them but did to others. They'd scratched heads and got nowhere; with Lalasa's arrival they'd commissioned for one another sets of really comfortable working clothes, warm and durable with enough pockets in what each thought the right places and sizes, but sufficiently formal to satisfy the sumptuary needs of office, with New Hope's arms on the breast. Others could think what they liked, and they exchanged boxes happily; Kel was telling Kitten about the contents of hers when the dragonet's snout snapped skyward and she sighed, looking at Dom.

"Here we go, love. How many are coming, Kit?" Grandsire is alone.

"Right." She went to the terrace and hoisted her voice into command mode. "People! Incoming dragon—Lord Diamondflame. You know he can make himself space but seeing my flagpole hop sideways gives me a turn so can you clear the west side of the green, please?"

They didn't need telling twice and Kel was able to cross to Prince Eitaro and his retinue, and explain. Diamondflame's silhouette was rapidly enlarging and they were inclined to listen when she respectfully made suggestions.

"Lord Diamondflame is a friend as well as most noble, Your Imperial Highness, and by no means without humour, but remember he is as much older than we as he is larger, and as greater in mind as in body."

Yamanis didn't have the vast Scanran pool of sagas about dragons but it wasn't for nothing the Imperial sigil was a dragon though none had been seen in the Islands for centuries, and as Diamondflame slid gracefully onto the green Prince Eitaro's eyes were as wide as his shoulders were straight. Diamondflame settled into his crouch.

Greetings, Protector.

She saw Yamanis go taut as that mindvoice rolled into their heads.

"And to you, my Lord. You are most welcome on this wedding day. I believe you know most of my guests, but not all. May I make them known to you?"

Of course.

He did seem to be here only as a guest though Kel doubted she'd get away without a serious conversation and wasn't sure how she felt about that. She led the Prince, Lord Kayomori, Takemahou - and Hayata-sensei, and Keichii down to be presented and gravely greeted, before looking at a quivering Kitten, nobly controlling herself, and grinning permission. Seeing anything

bouncing into one of Diamondflame's paws with a trill of delight and hearing that mindvoice filled with affection might trouble anyone's sensibilities and Kel was interested to see even Kayomori was reassured, and Eitaro as charmed as Keiichi and both sensei. They had also seen New Hopers, Scanrans, and other guests, while profoundly respectful, at ease, and unperturbed horses, dogs, sparrows, and marmalade cat. In any case, one necessity dealt with she turned to the next— the couples she'd handfasted who were sharing her wedding day.

The orphaned Goatstrack man and Anak's Eyrie girl had decided to live in Anak's Eyrie when they could, and Kel gave them a landgrant including the girl's dead family's one field and several more, as well as a useful purse, her first. The older Tirrsmont and Rathhausak pair wanted to stay in New Hope and received rights to a cliff dwelling, with a purse. Fanche and Saefas also wanted to stay at New Hope; Kel had every intention they should, as stewards of the township, and appointing them so gave them an estate at the northern end of the valley, far enough to allow retreat, near enough for convenience, and if Samiaju was right including in lands spreading over the western saddle coal deposits that would give them a source of income beyond the handsome purse she added. There would need to be more such grants in future, but this sound start while stupefying Fanche and Saefas was immensely well received.

She and Dom took all three couples to join the very high table for lunch, and she could have blessed Jonathan and Thayet, who worked hard to put all at ease. Fanche and Saefas had grown used to high company but for the others, however familiar a sight King and Queen had become, and however rarefied the atmosphere that had surrounded them, to dine so as centres of attention was the event of a lifetime, and they rose to it. The honours done them continued as soon as brides and grooms had a chance to change. Faced with collective insistence Kel had reluctantly agreed to officiate but roped in Holloran so there was at least one competent divine involved; in the nature of orphans and widows the brides lacked anyone to give them away so Kel had deputed Roald for the younger woman, Jonathan for the Tirrsmont widow, who went very pink to find herself on the King's arm, and Duke Baird, of whom she approved, for Fanche. The ceremonies were to be in unbroken sequence, and they were ready to begin when Lord Weiryn's and the Green Lady's shrine began to glow—not the usual dazzle but nevertheless, and Kel paused, glancing at Daine in mute question.

"No idea, Kel. Da might be toning down the drama but I've never seen him manifest with that little silver."

"Perhaps it is just a blessing." Holloran sounded hopeful and Kel grinned. "Did Lord Weiryn say he would be, um, attending?"

"We didn't speak last time I saw him, Your Reverence, but he knows he's always welcome to drop in."

"Ah."

There are gods walking up the roadway, Protector.

Diamondflame sounded surprised and Kel had time to shrug before her head swung towards a distant, frantic shout from one of the skeleton duty guard, followed by the sound of amused gods declaring themselves under the Honesty Gate. They swept into view and her breath caught. She'd never seen Lord Weiryn in finery before, and from a sidelong glance at Daine suspected it might be a first, but he did look splendid in a long robe that danced with greens of the forest. Animal shapes chased through it, matching the flickering embroideries of the Green Lady, and his antlers gleamed silver among their usual velvet brown nap. Wuodan and a hound only a little smaller Kel was sure was his mate loped beside them, and her mind went into overdrive.

"Couples, there'll be a short delay. Your Reverence, you've met them already, so excuse

me a moment, please." Her voice drew attention even with that competition. "Your Majesties, Your Imperial Highness, would you of Your graces join me?" She repeated herself in her highest formal Yamani. "And you, Lord Kiyomori, of your grace as kamunushi."

Majesties and Highnesses weren't supposed to be ordered about, however disguised as supplications, but Jonathan wasn't objecting, nor Eitaro, and Kiyomori was collected, goggling, by the Prince's strong hand. As they reached her he spoke swiftly in the mode of imperial-to-friend.

"Keladry-sensei, how should I address them if called to do so?"

Kel fought a brief battle to a draw. "I asked the same thing about dragons before I met Lord Diamondflame's senior, my Prince, and was told politely. I believe the advice holds good, and sincerity and good cheer matter more than piety. As a god pointed out to me while hauling me up from making obeisance, you miss a great deal grovelling."

Eitaro looked startled but gave an appreciative nod, squaring his shoulders; there was no time for more. Gods and hounds passed Diamondflame, gravely nodding and being nodded at, and neared the steps. Kel curtseyed, drawing a breath that turned out to be unneeded.

"Protector." Weiryn's voice was even more gorgeous and she realised he was happy, though another note glided within his words. "No formal greetings, please, at such a fortunate meeting." They came up the steps and his hand reached to caress her cheek in benison, warmth flaring through her. "We visited Drachifethe, as my brother Mithros tells me we may, and have been walking your woods to meditate on the experience. Wuodan's and Frige's good noses told us of a feast, reminding us of a wedding day deserving many blessings."

Kel knew barracks' lawyering when she heard it but as she'd been the one to recommend it to Lord Mithros she could hardly complain—and only Daine, Numair, and from the look in his eyes Diamondflame knew enough to understand what was being said. Daine was valiantly swallowing joyful laughter, and circumspection was clearly called for not to annoy a senior officer willing to turn a blind eye only so far. The Green Lady leant to kiss Kel—a friendly greeting rather than the forehead-kiss of blessing, but sending a jolt straight to her womb.

"It is our good fortune to meet you so, Protector. Drachifethe makes us think of family and love. We shall visit it often, I believe."

Kel found her voice. "And you will always be welcome to seek refreshment at your shrine after embracing its lesson." She saw laughter in their eyes, which didn't seem so deep and starry today. "But I forget my manners—King Jonathan and Queen Thayet you know, but may I make known to you His Imperial Highness Prince Eitaro noh Nakuji? And second kamunushi of your brother Sakuyo, Lord Kiyomori noh Teika."

The Yamanis bowed, mortal to divine, but like Kel found indrawn breaths unneeded as Weiryn spoke, at once commanding and soothing in a Yamani mode Kel supposed must be divine-to-mortal, acknowledging respect, promising to convey it to Sakuyo, offering his own respects and requesting they be conveyed to His Imperial Majesty, and insisting beyond possibility of being gainsaid that he and his wife were by happy chance fellow guests at welcome weddings and formalities not needed. His speech was exquisitely aesthetic and Kel found herself certain Lord Sakuyo had been eating at the Green Lady's table in the last week or so. Needing to stay in Yamani she used the mode of friend-to-imperial, in which Yuki had coached her in case it was offered.

"Our weddings are Mithran, of course—you remember Archpriest Holloran—but naturally take place before your shrine to honour your marriage. It seems rude to ask you to work as

chance-come guests, but odd for you to stand in the congregation while your statues are called to witness. Might you stand for yourselves?"

"Gladly, Protector."

Eitaro was moving back to his place before Kel could say anything, Kiyomori propelled alongside him, and she ushered the gods to their shrine—Wuodan and Frige loping alongside to speak private greetings—before going to stand by Holloran, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder and beaming at the waiting couples.

"And on we go."

Having real gods instead of wooden ones didn't make much difference to the ceremony but lent a charge to proceedings beyond even Diamondflame's power. At the point where the gods' blessings were asked on each couple they were promptly given, directly and on behalf of 'our brother and sister', necessitating an additional round of thanks. The fires leaped alight at first spark, the marigold necklaces seemed to bloom as if they still grew, and kisses were exchanged under linked divine hands from which silver drops fell while everyone felt a swirl of shared and declared passion. The cheering was exuberant, with a certain urgency, and for the last kiss, between Fanche and Saefas, was joined by a crooning from Wuodan and Frige that Kel could feel in her bones. Then at last it was done, Weiryn and the Green Lady could embrace their daughter with a joy that sparkled everywhere, and all six dazed newlyweds could process through the beaming crowd to their own parties, and disappear to change into sensible clothes again while Kel and Dom retired to do the opposite.

As Lalasa had a fair idea what Kel would tolerate she hadn't had to endure foolish arguments about the kind of wedding dress that would have made her look like a large, frilly icebear, but even at their first meeting Lalasa had eyed her and produced a measuring string. Kel had been aware of change from the tightness of her tunics but was surprised to discover how much larger her breasts had become and didn't think pregnancy was supposed to have such effects so quickly; Lalasa seemed convinced without asking about pregnancy that Dom was responsible and said she'd wondered if that would happen, leaving Kel to ask in puzzlement and be left thoughtfully surprised by the laughing answer. It was an enjoyable phenomenon, whatever the cause, and from Lalasa's point-of-view made less modest styles possible despite the need to conceal Kel's scarred shoulder; the result was a dress of exquisite simplicity and cunning cut that exposed upper shoulders and framed her strong neck, and if cleavage was still not possible there was a definite bust that made her feel more grown up than almost anything else.

On Yuki's wedding dress the embroidery of arms had been white-on-white, but Lalasa had insisted on doing silver and gold borders in appropriate threads, then decided the rest should be coloured too. The material didn't want such weight of needlework so the design had been simplified into outlines; Kel had had doubts but the result was as fine as anything Lalasa had ever done, and the colours matched suspiciously well with her new signet ring, a blue-green beryl necklace her mother had insisted on giving her, and the tiara. When Lalasa insisted she try them all she expected to feel overdressed but they seemed right together, and the faces of her Mama and enormous bridal party, whom she hadn't even bothered to try and keep out, testified that they were.

Weeks back Kel had found Thayet, half-amused, half-distressed, refereeing a dispute between Yuki and Shinko with each insisting on surrendering to the other the position of matron of honour. Resisting the urge to bang Yamani heads together she'd declared New Hope's known-to-be-peculiar customs allowed as many matrons of honour as the bride liked, so they could both have the job. It was Thayet's fault it had gone further, as she'd promptly opted to join in, at which point Kel added Lalasa, and it had turned out one couldn't then reasonably restrict bridesmaids

either, apparently. The whole thing had caused hair-tearing on Lalasa's part but it turned out Thayet and Shinko had matching white dresses and there was enough material left for her to squeeze out one for herself, under pleased protest. The principal bridesmaids were those Kel had always intended—Irnai, Loesia, and Gydo—and they had proper dresses Lalasa had planned, but there had, fortunately, been enough other Maids who sewed and a creamy cloth intended for Kel's trousseau to make matching dresses for her seven—count them and wonder—nieces old enough to walk, whose arguments for inclusion everyone except Kel thought unimpeachable. The only good thing in the absurdity, besides making her nieces very happy and vastly relieving their mothers, was that it freed Dom to have Tobe as well as his brother as supporters, though he did declare Neal as Best Man to be unique.

She knew she'd long treasure the look on her father's face when she emerged at the head of the phalanx to join him. If she was going to make up protocol she might as well do it thoroughly, so she was on her mother's arm and his look was as much for his wife, but made her heart trip. She gave him her other arm and they walked together through the portico wide enough for all abreast, and went slowly down the steps. Indrawn breaths when the crowd saw her marked a silence that rippled across the level, stretching to encompass dragons and gods until she was beginning to pass through her people, who erupted into cheering and deafening applause, with shouts of Lady Kel, Protector, and rising through them New Hope, New Hope, New Hope. It wasn't the done thing but with royalty joining in what could she do?

For the most part Kel kept her eyes on Dom's, glowing back at her with everything in them—wondering knowledge, pride and humility, loving respect and admiring lust—but glances showed her sisters pleasingly stunned. Her Maids were grinning, and even good friends looking as surprised as admiring—Alanna, Raoul, Vanget, Ferghal, and Wyldon, with an expression unnervingly like her father's. It was a final assurance that she really was looking as good as she felt, and in her innermost self something uncurled, dissolving away as happiness became complete. It had taken Conal's death for her to forgive him the fear of heights that had so scarred her; it took only this living moment to forgive her female kin overheard remarks and direct insults that had damaged her as badly, divorcing understandings of womanhood and knighthood. Warrior, commander, lover, bride—she could be all. The price of knighthood did not include losing oneself and one's naked, mortal worth, any more than marriage or beauty granted skill at arms to defend mate and children. She could know what it was to command and triumph on the field of battle and to tremble and surrender in Dom's arms, to slaughter, love, and nurse, and forgave the Hag the cruelty that had shown her the falseness of her self-image. That was a thought to pursue but had brought her with her parents to the steps; noise still thundered about them. She had to speak into her parents' ears in turn to be sure they could hear, and when they paused, loosing her arms, went up the steps alone, congratulating herself on refusing the train Lalasa had tried to persuade her was a good idea. Turning and winking at Dom she drew breath, summoning a battlefield voice.

"Oy!" Chanting cut off with satisfactory abruptness. "It's sweet of you all but I can't hear myself getting married, so hush now, please."

She heard Diamondflame's laugh directed to her alone and beamed down at her grinning parents, Thayet swallowing laughter behind them while Lalasa looked relieved not be deafened any more, and beckoned them all to join her. Holloran was looking similarly relieved, gods and hounds approving, and Dom was there in his beautiful matching tunic, and Tobe and Neal in their best, beaming back at her, so it was time to get on with it. Having divine eyes on one's vows did add a certain something, and the chimes sounded extremely musical, but she was so intent on Dom and the emotion pouring from her with her voice that it wasn't until the fire blazed with silver among all the colours of the sunbirds' display that she realised the something was going to make itself obvious. As she and Dom lifted the marigold necklaces white flowers bloomed among orange, and when they kissed it wasn't drops of silver that fell from the hands of Weiryn and the

Green Lady but a stream that coursed in their blood like the Hunt and the power of spring. Nor was there the same cheer from the crowd because Shakith's hawk-scream rang across the valley, far closer than usual yet flowing past her so the blazing sensation of her lips on Dom's was undisturbed, and they could end it of their own accords and embrace, each head on the others' shoulder, breathing in unison in the perfect silence that came as echoes died. Hands entwined, and she'd swear hearts beating in unison, they turned to Weiryn and she cocked an eyebrow in query. He laughed, speaking to all.

"My sister marks a moment from which prophecies will spring." He smiled. "You might call it the timeway's acknowledgement of service."

Kel blinked consternation but thinking about that wasn't going to help, it was Drachifethe business, not hers, the ceremony was over, and only two thoughts were helpful. The first was to distract Lord Mithros and the other gods sure to be eavesdropping as rapidly as possible.

"Thank you, my Lord. I believe that explanation terrifies almost as much as it confuses, but please convey my respectful thanks to the timeway and your sister all the same. Will you grace us as our first guests as husband and wife?"

His eyes sparked. "We will, with joy."

She turned. "Lord Diamondflame, given your command of space, will you honour us with your company inside?"

With joy also, Protector.

Embracing Dom again, lips by his ear, she could deal with the second thought

—Remember to limp, he's got to be watching—and continue the first by asking her matrons and bridesmaids to usher guests after them with all due ceremony. Then she could take Dom's arm, on the side that would need support if he were genuinely limping, and extend her own for Weiryn, smiling, Green Lady and hounds beyond him. Dom's weight rested on her arm convincingly enough she thought he might truly have found his leg painful once she made him think about it, and a stately pace allowed Diamondflame to fall in beside the Green Lady, though how he could walk at mortal speed given his paces was another dragon mystery. However he was doing it, dragon and goddess making conversation as people got out of their way had to be a more interesting spectacle than two mortals receiving mundane congratulations. As they reached the steps and Diamondflame dropped back to let the Green Lady climb Weiryn turned to Kel, voice a murmur; the hounds cocked their heads.

"You need not fear. My brother knew we would come." "Good, but it's not that. Trickster business."

"Ah. That's another story. He still can't find his shield and the Isles will tip any day now. But I don't believe Domitan's leg will concern him even if he notices, and my brother Sakuyo is a great deal closer."

He sounded cheerful and Kel felt relief that Weiryn knew about it all. She wasn't so sure about Sakuyo being a great deal of anything, especially closer, but they'd reached the doorway; stepping forward with Dom and turning to invite the gods in she was confronted by the sight of Diamondflame's head rising above the top step while his body flowed sinuously around the entire curve, his tail yet to reach the bottom one, and amusement washed worries away. The gods would notice what they noticed and do what they did; bridges could be crossed when one came to them, even by gods and dragons, and she was Domitan of Masbolle's—of New Hope's—wife, as he was her husband, and it was wonderful.

Her equanimity lasted only until she followed Weiryn and the Green Lady into the main reception room and saw the paintings had grown, expanding from handy portable size to as big as the wall to which they somehow remained attached could compass. Colours and intensity had not diminished, and she knew she wasn't the only one to hear Sakuyo laughing. Diamondflame had rippled in, taking up a considerable space even so, and was gazing at the vast images with interest, as were Wuodan and Frige. Royalty was making its way round Diamondflame's tail with Tobe, staring.

"I told you." Weiryn's voice rang with amusement. "There's a package and a note for you as well."

There were—an oblong package on which casually beautiful Yamani calligraphy said For my son that she knew must contain portable copies in which nothing would have been lost, and an unbound scroll resting on it addressed To my favourite daughter. Cross as she was she handled it reverently but the message, in the same gorgeous brushstrokes, was in parent-to-child and another teasing lesson.

Keladry-chan,

Don't be so cross with me—you may look at what you did and laugh at yourself while others admire you. You'll be the better for it.

You are entirely correct that I noticed the little girl whose mother saved the swords, and upon the need to let you grow wholly as yourself, without even a feather-touch of our aid until you became a knight, I have built my finest jest in an eon. I adore you for it but all you endured has sadly stunted your sense of humour. Console yourself—my lesson is kinder than my sister's, and I promise the learning will bring as sensational a reward.

I've business elsewhere but I'll be back. Look forward to it, and give your husband's leg my regards. Your estimable parents too.

S.

Delightful architecture, by the way—those basilisks and ogres do good work. Tell Geraint-sensei I look forward to a long chat; there's a temple to me planned in Edo and he has interesting ideas. Oh, and tell Sarra she should have a look at your kitchens—she'll like what he's done there.

Wordlessly Kel let the scroll close and looked at the silent people who had gathered, then the Green Lady. She waited until she was sure her voice would carry the right complex of tones, with the laughter she knew wasn't entirely hers almost inaudible beneath them. Almost.

"He says I have a stunted sense of humour and you should have a look at my kitchens. I'm going to sit down now, if I can find anywhere I don't have to look at myself being so very heroic. Would somebody please tell Prince Eitaro he's acquired some extra luggage?"

Then she made the mistake of catching Dom's eye and they were both lost. It was, she thought not very coherently, a tribute to Lalasa's skill that she could whoop laughter in her wedding dress, and interesting to watch Kiyomuri's face through her tears as Sakuyo's laugh joined her own and Dom's in a caress they both felt and all heard, while across the room Prince Eitaro went to his knees with as joyous a face as she'd ever seen on a Yamani in public. Even

when she'd recovered some dignity a bubbling good humour welled in her breast, reconfirmation that her efforts before the elemental had chosen her had been truly her own mingling with the truth of Sakuyo's lesson in the way she could see the intrinsic exaggeration of the paintings magnified. On the walls she really was a ten -foot fantasy visiting fire on the deserving, a trickster as unreal as the illusory dragon; and here she was on the floor, life-size and beginning to think food a fine idea except she'd had another and went with Dom across to Prince Eitaro to offer him a hand he took with a surprised look, and haul him to his feet.

"Most honourable but not necessary today, my Prince. Petals in water rejoice with the thunderstorm : another fine mess."

His face lit. "Truth, Keladry-sensei. Your laugh too was wonderful."

She looked down at herself and up at the first painting. "Only consider the difference— that yawning gap is where Lord Sakuyo's ironies found their last touch, and patronage of a Tortallan ensures he too is caught by his jest. And then, I was alive to laugh, and very much in love, so I did."

"Many truths and wisdom too, sensei. I shall tell His Imperial Majesty." He glanced past her. "But others await you in your triumph."

She smiled and bowed, friend-to-imperial, Dom following her in—she blessed him—an uncertain but higher mode and they were both included in Eitaro's reciprocal imperial-to -friend. Those waiting were Jonathan, Thayet, and a whole constellation, and they all wanted to read the letter but Kel blithely ignored hints, offered exactly the explanation she'd given Eitaro, and went with Dom to welcome those still entering.

Thereafter the evening-with-gods fragmented again, though laughter ran through it on a great tide of hope and gratitude. The presence of everyone's dead in the final painting was a comfort, the unbelievability of all three a distancing from reality remembered. Sakuyo's great irony made a place for more ordinary desires than divine justice and deliverance from war— desires she and Dom and the other newlywed couples who spanned the generations embodied for all who celebrated with them; a future in which children could grow up and adults old peacefully. The problems of Tortall were diminished, and unless one of the eastern border nations became suicidal warfare wasn't going to be among them for a while. Roald the Peacemaker hadn't made much peace—just ignored contradictions—but his son had ended conflict with Carthak, Yaman, and now Scanra, with the Copper Isles to follow.

There were, though, a few things she always remembered clearly—the food, proclaiming that the Green Lady had done more than visit the kitchens; dancing with Weiryn while Dom partnered the Green Lady and Daine's numinous grin; Junior discovering himself in all three paintings and becoming entranced; Kitten lighting every stone of the balcony in great washes of colour; and the conversation with Diamondflame that came afterwards as he lay along the terrace and she and Dom rested on his forepaws. He had sounded apologetic.

I must beg some days of your time. I could say the Dragonmeet wants to thank you and it would be true, but it is truer that parents of the dragons who wish to become Guild apprentices desire to meet and measure you for themselves.

"Oh glory. Well that's only right. When do they want to come."

They don't. They would like to see you in the Dragonlands. She and Dom both blinked, looking at one another with wild surmise. I had wondered if you intended to travel for a honeymoon.

"Um, once everyone's gone we mean to ride the fief together." And how long before your guests depart?

"Not long for most—a day or two—but longer for the Yamanis and our close kin and friends. Who knows when we'll be together again?"

"There's your birthday, Kel, in two days. Tobe has plans." A birthday? You come of age? "I do, yes."

Well, that must be respected. But it would be better not to keep those dragons waiting.

How about the day after, for three days? Adult dragons didn't wheedle but you could have fooled

Kel. Skysong could come.

It obviously mattered, Kitten was bouncing, and Kel met Dom's look with a hopeless shrug. "Of course."

Excellent. I shall see you then. He rose. Farewell, Protector. A most enjoyable mating ceremony. Farewell.

The last word was generally audible and people on the terrace turned to wave as he flowed across the level. Others came out to see him slide over the palisades and as he spiralled up he could be seen as a great cross silhouetted against the summer stars. Tobe wove his way over, concealing disappointment.

"He's gone, then?"

Dom met her gaze and she felt his amusement spark her own, as richly as before. Grandma had disapproved of their not taking a proper honeymoon at once, contending there was good reason for newlyweds to take themselves out of everyone's hair; she could hardly argue with three days in the Dragonlands, nor boast of it to her acquaintance without endorsing all. Kel reached to ruffle Tobe's hair.

"Don't fret, sweeting. You'll see dragons again sooner than you think."

On the ides of August a contemplative Kel found herself sitting on her balcony in late morning. Her pregnancy, showing a little, made a wonderful excuse for idleness, a department in which Dom insisted she'd been slacking, not having stopped in years; there was something wrong with that logic but she did seem to have come to rest, and inactivity was oddly welcome. She couldn't plead morning sickness, which had not been fun but had been brief, and she was amused with her indignation at not only being grateful for one of Neal's teas but actually rather liking the stuff. But then she didn't actually need an excuse.

She wasn't yet officially on leave from her new post as army district commander, releasing Wyldon to return gratefully to Cavall, but only routine was happening and her deputy at Mastiff was dealing with it. Uinse's New Hope First were on duty, Dom's Second had the corral, Brodhelm's Third were patrolling her far-flung fief, and Mikal's Fourth were now stationed at the

bridge, where the settlement had become known as Dragonstown. There was wagon traffic trundling down valley needing to be checked, but Uinse's duties as captain of the citadel interlocked with Fanche's and Saefas's as town stewards, and Lasner's as comptroller, and all that was under control. And there were pilgrims, adding Lord Sakuyo's paintings to their Drachifethe visit: there was no charge for seeing them, but the Pilgrims' Progress, established south of the corral, was doing as brisk a business as the Smugglers' Rest and was, on Dom's cunning insistence, owned by Kel and rented to the veterans who ran it with profits split fifty-fifty. It did mean people traipsing in and out not so far from her, but screens in the Yamani style protected her privacy and a guard made sure people didn't wander where they shouldn't—so there wasn't much for Kel to do except write a commentary on Orchan and eat for three.

Her chair was comfortable, the writing table perfect, and the light excellent—which it shouldn't have been, as the shadow of the fin covered the balcony even at Midsummer, but that was dragons for you. On the rockface enormous curved icelights spelled out Ctheorth and Yr, the Fire-bow, and the dragons had incorporated feathers requested from their sunbird cousins so the great sign blazed with sunshine by day, warm as well as light, and faded to a glow at night. Officially it designated the dragon embassy; in truth it was Diamondflame's thanks for stumbling her way to a prophesied bridge and taking young dragons under her wing; either way she was as grateful as the grass and plants flourishing around the house.

The Dragonlands had been more fun for Kitten than for Kel or Dom, though Dom enjoyed flying and Kel liked it better with his arms around her. The defeated Separatist dragons Daine had warned them about hadn't been in evidence, only perturbed curiosity, and Kel had had to tell her tale one more time with as much reference as possible to her faint understanding of the timeway and contacts with Kitten, Kawit, and Diamondflame. The experience of addressing the Dragonmeet was one to wonder at, but concerned parents and eager offspring had been familiar. Diamondflame hadn't been joking that there were dragons with a century for each of Kitten's years who had mastered less magic, for the simple reason that they'd never needed to. The darkings were right—the Dragonlands were dull, and while there had been a ban on visits to the mortal realm, and sufficient hostility from gods to put the Divine Realms out of bounds to the underage, only Kitten among younger dragons had been anywhere else. Food seemed plentiful, adults self-absorbed and fractious, and kits expected to learn by themselves.

The root of Rainbow's caution was the fact that the half-dozen younglings who'd fledged, and were thus eligible to become apprentices, were by definition in their teen centuries, between fifteen and twenty-five feet long, which did make for problems administering discipline. Most had been excited, with parents nervous of placing offspring in mortal care; a few were arrogant about the notion of learning from mortals, with parents who seemed delighted at the prospect of being rid of them. After a few hours patiently answering questions Kel had realised she was in the same position as Diamondflame had been in the mortal realms—an oddly potent visitor—and in half-amused exasperation became quite brisk. The restriction to fledged dragons was absurd—Skysong did well, that was the point, so all that was needed was an adult to transport them, and the presence of younger kits would have a restraining influence on teens. At that point a small white dragon called Icefall—or Scamp, apparently—became Kel's new best friend, having been less than resigned to waiting eight centuries or so to become an apprentice, but it was Kitten who won the point by scolding the adults in good round terms for being silly. Ten centuries of idle ignorance was no basis for adult life, she'd survived two mortal wars, and they thought New Hope in peacetime too dangerous for kits that couldn't fly away? Excuse her, but what exactly was their reasoning, and what did they suppose the many beings did who couldn't fly whatever their age? The effect was as if an infant had risen from the crib to dispute philosophy in a bass voice, and the argument was settled when one of the more arrogant teens declared it had nothing to learn from a baby, however talkative. Kel requested from a silently observing Diamondflame a complex stone structure of some kind, and when a bizarre branching form he called a coral appeared she asked the teen to light it up. The result was a muddy green glow that covered only

half the branches, after which Kitten played brisk rainbow arpeggios over the whole thing, making it blaze so brightly the teen stepped back in alarm.

"So, you can't do light properly, quantity or quality. Fire?"

Some thin wisps spiralled from the teen, nearly scorching one of its parents. Kit pulled them in before they did any damage, gave a scornful chirp, and dropped a neat circle of proper dragonfire over the teen, which winked out before it damaged the grass.

"And you can't do fire either. Is there any point asking if you could work out how to merge a light spell and a basilisk's rock-spell so you could make a permanent light? Of course not —have you even met a basilisk? Ogre? Spidren? Stormwing? Centaur? Anything except your reflection in a pond? You've a lot to learn, however many centuries you have, and not just from Skysong. With fire control that poor you can't defend yourself or anyone else, you're a menace to all around you, and of no discernible use whatever. So as Dom and I, and Kawit Pearlscale, have just as much a veto on any candidate as Diamondflame and Rainbow, and Skysong has already earned Journeydragon status, I'd suggest you try being polite and asking nicely rather than making silly boasts someone a hundredth of your age can explode quicker than you can make them."

It seemed no-one had spoken plainly to young dragons in a while, certainly not mortals or babies; the net result was sixteen dragon apprentices in residence, including Icefall. Morning classes in immortal and mortal knowledge, necessarily held on the green as the teens had yet to master spatial magic, still had a somewhat random flavour as anyone with a particular skill or experience might find themselves giving a lesson, but there was a systematic element from teachers Kel had recruited from the City of the Gods—a historian, a linguist, and a man who studied trade and finance, to begin with. There were also a couple of mages Numair had selected sorting out neglected basic theory and skills, finding out what dragons could do others couldn't, and studying illusion and cloaking spells with Quenuresh and Kawit, who looked after firespell practice with help from Kitten. Afternoons were project based, which presently meant shaping to their own satisfactions the clifftop by the abatis as a dragon dormitory and creating a home for the Guild College, excavated in the fin. Basilisks and ogres had to do most of the work but dragons could observe, think about design and what was needed, and receive excellent physical and magical exercise removing stone. Other projects were running—a house for Fanche and Saefas, to a design Geraint had completed before receiving an urgent plea from priests in Edo; extension of the piped water supply to include hot as well as cold; and a proper, large-scale map of the whole fief Kel urgently wanted that provided fledged dragons with the necessity for controlled, slow flight and precise observations of distance. More were being planned around things the Guild already made and how they could be improved, or might make and how that could be possible, and those exercises had already borne strange fruit. Icefall was a scamp, but a delightful one, and had in sheer, exuberant determination learned the hovering spell even though he couldn't fly: he couldn't get very high, nor for long, but he'd impressed Kitten, who was practicing hard, and Quenuresh, seeing the spell worked, thought it ought to be possible to store it in an object that would lift whatever it was attached to—and that would be very saleable indeed, so experiments were proceeding. It raised the interesting question of what dragons would wish to do with money or Guild credit, which Kel had relayed by darking to Diamondflame and by letter to Jonathan, pointing out it was a new market Tortall was in a privileged position to exploit. She was looking forward to replies and already had ideas—not difficult as all young dragons thought hot southern spices a most excellent addition to food, and it needed a lot of spice to flavour a dragon-sized portion—but just now it was good to sit still and let ideas look after themselves.

Some of her indolence could be traced to a pair of kittens asleep on her lap in a heap of paws and tails. Bringing them home from the Dragonlands Diamondflame had detoured half-way across the Divine Realms, to show them the mind-melting beauty of a sunbird display and because the Green Lady had invited them to dinner. That had been an experience Kel and Dom treasured,

though neither thought they'd care to repeat it too often, the food being so extraordinary in mouth and stomach they'd felt full for a week, and the company too unnerving. Lord Gainel had been there, though he'd had to speak via one of the others, and a variety of animal gods, including the Badger, Bear—every bit as large as the pelt Gareth had—and Broadfoot the Duckmole, who was very odd indeed, if nice with it. And there had also been Queenclaw, whom Kel had thoughtfully stroked into much purring before mentioning the marmalade queen who'd been so valiant at Rathhausak—very deserving and waging a lonely battle against mice beginning to be found in the caves where food was stored. In the week after their return a remarkable variety of cats had shown up, including several pregnant queens, and the mouse problem was retreating fast while almost anything anyone wanted to use now probably had a cat sleeping on it—which was less annoying and certainly less consequential than mouse-soiled food, and had the side-benefit of kittens to sit on one's lap.

Kel's ease in pregnancy was also attributable to the Green Lady, who even more than Weiryn was grateful for the chance to see Daine more often and had expressed it with her proper power. Besides informing Kel that she carried fraternal twins, male and female, there had been an infusion of divine magic; what it did for the twins besides ensuring they grew healthily was moot, but it eased Kel's back, stomach, and bladder. The Great Goddess's repairs had left her in excellent internal shape but would not have spared her the usual inconveniences, and Yuki had been teasing her with a certain indignation, which bothered Kel not at all. The later stages of Daine's pregnancy had also been eased by her mother, and she'd borne a son—Rikash—early in July. She and Numair had gone to Corus, but with Kitten as a Journeydragon and the lure of parental access they'd be at New Hope often. Numair said he'd have been there anyway because the work the Guild was beginning to do made it as interesting a place magically as there was, and his proposed seminar in interspecies spell-blending was producing applications from mages far afield. All immortals in the mortal realms were fiercely and practically interested, and many representatives would be coming, including a kudarung; there was also to be a scholarly section of experimental results in the quarterly Journal of the Craftsbeings' Guild of New Hope.

Immortals also featured in Kel's commentary on Orchan. She'd never deviated from his principles but had extended them in a score of ways, from Quenuresh's concealment spells on rocknets to obsidian spiking in killing fields and paper-thin petrified screens to conceal mageblast bombs. Wyldon insisted she write about the spiritual warfare she'd used to split Maggur's forces, and that was going into a second section, to follow the commentary: one wanted the best possible fixed defences, but there were ways of using them effectively that depended on appreciating one's enemy. Kel found the idea of herself as a military historian as inflated as being a countess, but as Wyldon pointed out and Dom agreed it would be another source of income, and the fief— especially the Scanran half—was going to eat all she could generate for years, so she was persevering and after some cogitation added two sentences opposite the paragraph about the siege of Rostholm.

Carefully timed, the release of rocknets will also discourage giants, and where there is a glacis of sufficient height and angle may sweep them off their feet into injurious or fatal falls. Rocknets should be concealed by magery, but metal-cored rope (with correspondingly powerful mageblasts) is recommended to prevent premature release by slashing in advance of an attempted escalade.

That would do, and she read on until she came to the end of the chapter and sat back, stroking a waking kitten. Soft voices gave warning and Dom came out with Forist.

"Don't get up, love—just a report." He saw the kittens and chuckled. "So that's where those two got to. The cooks were down several sausages this morning and muttering darkly about cat pie."

She grinned. "I had to pay for some sausages Jump had stolen the first time I met him. Perhaps we'd better have a sausage fund."

"Perhaps we had. Meantime Forist's had Alanna pop up in the fire."

"Copper Isles?"

"Tell her, Forist."

He consulted a paper. "She sent greetings, Lady Kel, and said the Rittevons had fallen. The Prince and Princess Regent are dead and the new ruler is Queen, ah, Dovasary Haiming Temaida Balitang. There are pockets of resistance but the new order holds Rajmuat, and His Majesty has recognised Queen Dovasary, as have both Imperial Majesties. She and Baron George are sorry they'll miss you at Midwinter but they're going with the official delegation to the new Queen's coronation to see a friend."

"Ah, good. Thank you, Forist. Except for that last bit could you make sure Queen Barzha and Cloestra are informed? They probably know but we should be sure."

"Of course, Lady Kel. I'll do that at once—Cloestra was on the gatehouse roof a while

back."

He left and Dom went to get a chair from the reception room, setting his stick against its arm and stretching out his leg.

"Cramping?"

"No, just stiff. Too much riding. I'll have to take it easy too."

"I'll do the riding." They grinned at one another, pregnancy having stimulated Kel's appetites in more ways than one.

"I take it that last bit from Alanna meant young Aly is safe."

"I'd think so. And with a raka queen consolidating her position and repairing damage done by the Rittevons …"

"Yes. Refugees turned raiders though, maybe."

"Probably. Even so."

"I wasn't complaining, but we should let Anders know."

"True. Plans for this afternoon?"

"Company paperwork. It can wait if you've a more interesting idea."

"More a hunch it might be time to go to Haven." She'd told him about her invitation to the Hag and nodded at his questioning look. "I may be inventing things to make myself move but …"

"Your hunches are worth heeding. We'll go after lunch. Meantime, one of our pilgrims today is an artist who wants to do a portrait. He has a letter from Master Orman, who says he's good."

Kel made a face. "If I never see another portrait of me it'll be soon enough but I wouldn't mind one of you." Dom made a face in turn and she grinned. "And I'd definitely like ones of Neal and Yuki. And"—her eyes gleamed—"Kitten, with her Journeydragon medallion."

"Now there's a notion."

The surprised artist was game, Kitten went pink, and after they'd eaten they rode gently across the valley, leaving preliminary sketches in progress. They had an escort, more for form than need, and once Jacut had checked Haven was deserted Kel asked them to wait at the foot of the roadway. The knoll with its memories of horror and present peacefulness was a place of pilgrimage too, and offerings had been left on graves; Merric's had some, and Seaver's more, for most were on those of men who'd died in the siege, from relatives who came to see where they rested. Kel did have a feeling something might happen today but wanted time at the mass grave anyway, where a wide, obsidian headstone she'd dedicated a month before bore the names of all buried there, and though it might be foolish she and Dom spent a while telling any dead who might hear how New Hope was progressing.

Beyond the grave were two new shrines, one to the animals who had fought and died for Haven and New Hope, with a dog, cat, sparrow, horse, and mule, as well as wild birds, and one to the Hag as goddess of graveyards. Tobe had helped one of the panel-makers carve the goddess with eyepatch, cane, dice, hyenas, and rats, following a Carthaki model Numair explained, and after praying for the animals Kel and Dom knelt to tend it. She'd transplanted some of Sakuyo's little flowers and they were thriving. When they were done they sat back and Kel lit a cone of incense, taking Dom's hand and watching smoke spiral into the sky. Silver flared behind them and the Hag grinned as they twisted to bow awkwardly, her hyena's tongue lolling in the afternoon warmth.

"Greetings, Protector, and to your mate." She looked critically at the shrine, sniffing. "Not bad, dearie. Nice incense. Nice rats too. My most northern shrine, by a long way, so it's a good bribe. And saying you had an offer for Dabeyoun was a nice touch—he's been pestering me to find out what it is."

"Dabeyoun?" Kel nodded to the hyena, who grinned back. "Not Slaughter then?" The Hag cackled. "No, dearie. But they were littermates. Now tell."

Kel sat straighter, clasping Dom's hand and addressing Dabeyoun as much as the Hag. "Well, I've two problems. One is that as you can see pilgrims who visit Haven leave offerings, including coin. We're collecting the coin for something worthy, but knowing there's likely to be silver here is a temptation people could do without. The other is that Wuodan told me the Hunt won't pursue anyone up here because your Da's hand lies on it so Haven's potentially a refuge for people who don't deserve one. As you've a shrine here and Dabeyoun features so handsomely on it I wondered if he and his kin might guard Haven."

"Huh. They might. What's in it for them, dearie? Or for me?"

"The Hunt takes a fair bit of game. My woods should be rewarding—or the Godborn says the dogs say her Ma's blessing on our kitchens extends to bones. We could put some aside." She thought Dabeyoun looked interested. "And for you, High One, well, besides that dance of the dead, which should have pleased you, and your shrine and enough offerings to give it some potency, because I am grateful, despite everything, Kyprioth seemed to think he owed me a reward I'd be happy to trade. I imagine he's in a generous mood with news from Rajmuat."

"He's insufferable already, and His Spearness in a mighty sulk." She didn't seem displeased. "Your credit's good and it's a pretty graveyard. The dance was nice too, though it was practical, which ruins the fun. I'll think about it, dearie, and Dabeyoun can talk to his kin."

"Thank you. I was thinking it all began with necromancy—for me, anyway—and a

graveyard that really is a haven seems right to end it."

"There's that. I'd like to see the necromancer who'd try it here, mind. And so would Dabeyoun, he tells me, so that's a point in your favour. I'll let you know." Silver gathered and faded. "Oh, he says he'd like to take a look around. He can find his own way back when he's done." Silver flared again, leaving the hyena looking at them with an inquisitive expression. Kel drew breath.

"Greetings, Dabeyoun. What would you like to see?" You, mostly. Wuodan and Frige say you are polite. "Why would I be rude when I'm asking for help?" I have no idea but many mortals are.

"More fool them." Kel considered the handsome, peculiar animal. "Forgive me, but Numair said you were a guide for the dead. Is that right?"

Among other things. The rats and I also represent death beyond even Lady One-Eye's resurrecting.

Understanding clicked in Kel's mind. "You must be a trickster in your own right. And you laugh at the chance and justice of it all."

Oh yes. That necromancer you killed has heard me, and his Scanran friends. Dabeyoun sounded satisfied and Kel shivered a little; truly, Blayce, Stenmun Kinslayer, and Maggur had paid as much as anyone could, and the world was better for it. If I accept your proposal, no dead will walk here save with my let, and fugitives from the Hunt who enter will not leave again. His tongue lolled.

"Will you let the kind dead watch here, when they wish?"

I expect so. It has already been permitted. He yawned, teeth bones sounded tasty.

Kel knew when not to push her luck. "There are some waiting for you."

They rose, Dom stretching his leg and looking at her with quizzical love. "A hunch, eh?"

"And a dream. A good one, as it turns out."

She linked her arm through his and they went, Dabeyoun trotting beside them and looking about with interest. Jacut and his men blinked to see a hyena with Lady Kel but took being introduced and sniffed in their stride and asked no questions. Some at New Hope might be more surprised, but they'd learn. She had.


	35. Chapter 35

Prologue : The Best Jests Catch the Jester

Prologue : The Best Jests Catch the Jester

New Hope, October 463 HE

Count Domitan of New Hope — and Clanchief-Consort Hléoburh, though he used that title only when he absolutely had to — looked with some trepidation at the wooden crate that had been delivered. New Hope did not yet have a printer, though Kel had covetous plans, so the order had necessarily gone to the overworked but very well-reputed printers at the City of the Gods, and they had been kind or sensible enough to put a rush on it. Given how long it usually took to create printing -blocks for each page they had actually been remarkably swift, but he wasn't entirely looking forward to the consequences.

In his soldierly heart Dom agreed with Lord Wyldon that anyone who managed not only to resist odds of better than six-to-one but to inflict a comprehensive defeat owed fellow soldiers an explanation. And Kel's commentary on Orchan, for whom he shared her lively respect, was superb — an incisive series of dry interjections weaving into the sure grasp of stone and mageblasts an entirely terrifying explanation of how immortal aid and ruthlessly trained civilians could render the merely formidable all but impregnable. But the 'Note on Spiritual Warfare' on which Lord Wyldon had also insisted was something else again, and had left Kel as grouchy as a bear with sore teeth.

Admirable and astonishing as she was in noble command, and much as he loved and lusted for her, Kel was not always the easiest spouse. Her awakened appetites were a delight, even when they left his mutilated leg aching, and her occasional self-conscious regret about her muscular, scarred body he could kiss away. But while he'd made long strides in accepting her endlessly surprising attitudes to the divine regard that hedged her about, and she seemed resigned to the fact of it, having to write about how she'd used it, knowing anyone might read her words, had stuck in her craw.

"It's all very well Wyldon saying that military historians will analyse the siege to a fare-thee-well anyway so I might as well give them the truth to work with. He doesn't have to write the blessed thing! And if he did he'd go as po -faced as an oak beam, drat his boots!" There had been a fulminating pause. "What does he expect anyway? And how in Tortall am I supposed to explain that I guessed the griffins would countenance Quenuresh's illusion because I'd seen Junior listening hard when Kitten was telling Stanar off about the Hamrkengingsaga?"

Dom had survived the period of composition on short, soothing answers, diversionary love-making, and attentive care to the various cravings Kel's pregnancy induced, especially for Yuki's tsukemono . But it had been touch-and-go when he and others she'd asked to comment on her draft made their various suggestions for additional remarks, and she had eventually, in a magnificent fit of bad temper, ordered her clerk to produce a fair copy including them all and send the whole thing to the printers. With results that now sat in a crate before him and promised a renewed gnashing of teeth. Kel had once confided to him, eyes alight, that Cleon of Kennan had compared her teeth to wolfhounds romping in the snow, and while he'd laughed himself nearly sick at the time he found a sudden appreciation for the ridiculous metaphor. But prevaricating never did any good, and with a sigh he stood and used his belt-knife to prise open the wooden lid.

The codices were handsome enough, at any rate — bound in what the printers had called quarter-goatskin with the title beautifully stamped in gold. Gingerly Dom extracted a copy and

spent a few minutes leafing though the familiar text, eyes alert for any error and for the overall feel of the thing. He thought it rather magnificent, truth to tell, but he didn't suppose that would make Kel any happier about it, and squaring his shoulders he went in search of his wife.

Kel looked at the codex in her hands and at Dom's wary expression with emotions as boiling as they were mixed. Becoming the Protector of the Small had been the elemental's fault, and becoming a Countess ruling the largest single land-grant in Tortall the King's, but this responsibility was hers, and hers alone. Wyldon had nagged, and most of her friends had chivied, but she had set pen to paper and invited the absurd interpolations by all and sundry. She scowled ferociously at the quarter-goatskin binding.

People she knew would read this — her parents and siblings, nephews and nieces ; the Council of Ten and her Scanran liegers ; the King and Queen, Roald and Cricket, and for all she knew Lord Mithros himself. At the time she'd been guessing, hoping, and praying in equal measure, and none of that lent itself to the properly crisp, clear, and brief prose of a report. But Wyldon and Dom were right that truth was better than unchecked speculation, and it would at least spare her direct enquiries from the curious, which was everyone. So she'd buckled down womanfully to the task, trying to make it all sound sensible, but was guiltily aware that Dom had done a lot of Yes-my-dear-ing and desperation seducing — not that he'd found that difficult — by way of enduring her moods. She'd even properly consulted other witnesses to what had happened, only to be rewarded with absurd praises heaped on her aching head like coals of fire. And they wondered why it all made her want to scream?

The codex was fine-looking, she had to admit, and the embossed lettering a pleasure to run thumbs over. On her insistence the front and spine bore only Orchan's name and original title, but it was what was inside that mattered and she braced herself as she opened the volume.

The Principles of Defensive Fortification

by

Orchan of Eridui

with

a Commentary on Immortal Aid

and

a Note on 'Spiritual Warfare'

by

Countess Keladry of New Hope, Clanchief Hléoburh

Grimly Kel turned pages. She wasn't displeased with the commentary, and liked the clear layout, with Orchan's excellent text and her remarks conveniently aligned on facing pages. But even now she had no idea how the Note would be received, and like a tongue compulsively probing a sore tooth began once more to read it, half-reassured and half-appalled by the authority the printed characters seemed to lend her words.

A Note on 'Spiritual Warfare'

Prefatory Remarks

My Lord of Cavall insists that I add to my commentary some account of the 'spiritual warfare' practiced against King Maggur's forces during the siege of New Hope in February 463 HE. I have been reluctant, because the matter is distinct from Master Orchan's and defies ready narrative, let alone reduction to his admirable clarity ; but I have the deepest respect for my Lord's representations, and have so often already been asked to explain the matter that a published version seems a necessary self-preservation.

Two cautions are necessary.

The first is that far more than in my commentary I write here as a commander for commanders. Few of lesser rank will ever determine the disposition of fixed defences, but all soldiers should understand the fortifications they man, with their proper uses. 'Spiritual warfare', however, is in a distinct way a preserve of command, and while in my own view it is desirable that one's own rank-and-file appreciate any such strategy, its efficacy depends in large part on misunderstanding by the enemy's rank-and-file.

The second is that I acted at New Hope with the co-operation or benign regard of several kinds of immortals and the attentive goodwill of many gods. Both will grant leeway to mortals they trust or favour, and deny it to those they do not : what follows is intended exclusively for those who are sure they enjoy such status. Any who are not would best leave well alone.

Although the relevant events at New Hope took place within some twelve hours they depended on prior events dating back to the rescue mission of June 461, when the refugees of Haven were seized by Stenmun Kinslayer on behalf of the necromancer Blayce Younger, and the stolen children freed from Castle Rathhausak by night assault. What follows is therefore divided into sections – Prior Facts, Intermediate Developments, The Siege of New Hope, and Observations.

Prior Facts

1\. I became aware of 'spiritual warfare' during the rescue mission. The idea had rich soil, including my experience of stormwings (to whom it comes naturally) and encounters with killing devices (agents of terror as much as slaughter) — but it was the elemental of the Chamber of the Ordeal and Irnai of Rathhausak who brought it into focus for me.

2\. My own recklessness in riding into Scanra came from my duty to the kidnapped refugees and knowledge of the quest laid on me by the elemental, but neither could at first aid those who rode with me. They had no duty of care in command, and knights familiar with the elemental by Ordeal were inhibited by received beliefs about its nature and powers, while to others it had no personal significance.

3\. This changed when they heard the elemental speak prophetically through Irnai of Rathhausak. That experience, and the aid of Scanran civilians that came with it, does much to explain the wild courage shown by all under my command in the face of very long odds, and so the success of the night attack on the castle. Twenty-nine assailants were able to overcome one-hundred-and-forty-nine defenders only because Scanrans moved by spiritual concerns showed us a secret way in, and the twenty-nine knew they had preternatural blessing.

4\. Once the children had been rescued, and Stenmun and Blayce slain, it was imperative to destroy Blayce's workshops and study, and fire the only practicable method. Departing Tortall I had not known where the children were being taken, but realising the destination to be King Maggur's clanhome realised also that its necessary destruction would be a blow against Scanran

morale and a partial challenge under blódbeallár, the law of blood and fire that governs clanchief-to-clanchief challenge. Being then no clanchief, and lacking any as audience, the declaration that would complete the challenge was beyond me, but I believed the partial challenge might be effective, especially if King Maggur's murder of his own liegers' children to build killing devices could be made known to his subjects. The arson was therefore made as complete as possible, with hall, stables, and every building inside the walls fired, not only the keep where Blayce had his rooms.

5\. It will be observed that I could not have realised even the partial challenge without being aware of blódbeallár. I had been preparing to fight Scanrans for some years, and doing so for one ; believing all soldiers should know their enemy as well as possible, I studied their language, culture, and politics intensively, and continued to do so throughout the war, utilising every possible resource, including prisoners' cultural (as distinct from military) knowledge. 'Spiritual warfare' can be practiced on no other basis — and nothing will ensure its failure more completely than contemptuous ignorance of the enemy.

6\. Sir Nealan of Queenscove, healer on the rescue mission, adds :

"Countess Keladry omits to mention her own inspiring leadership, evident from her first year as a page and in full flower at Haven. Those who followed her into Scanra did so in love and friendship as much as duty, but not at first with any realistic hope of success, for the odds seemed overwhelming though honour demanded an attempt be made. The revelation of the quest the elemental of the Chamber had laid on her was as much a puzzle as an astonishment : no knight believed she would speak any untruth, but the idea of conversing with the elemental was beyond belief until it spoke through Irnai. Things thereafter were rushed and I can speak properly only for myself, but I agree with the Countess that the elemental's aural manifestation, use through Irnai of prophecy, and effective provision of aid from Scanran civilians — implying, for those willing to think about it, the interest of Lady Shakith in the affair — were critical to victory in the assault on the castle."

7\. Count Domitan of New Hope, also a veteran of the rescue mission, adds :

"Seconded, with two additional observations. First, that the squad of Ownsmen I then commanded, like others in the Own and Army, were aware that Lady Keladry had proven exceptional as page, squire, and subsequently commander of Haven. We already believed her both superbly capable and favoured by fortune, and the elemental's manifestation came as confirmation as well as revelation. And second, that discovering the fate of Rathhausak's children, and the intended fate of Haven's, raised in all an immediate revulsion of heart, mind, and gut. Our horror at it melded swiftly with our wonder at Lady Keladry, inducing a strong belief that we acted with the gods' and other powers' blessings."

Intermediate Developments

8\. I assume the major events of the last year of the Scanran War to be familiar to readers. The gods know there are already enough ballads and sagas telling of them, and the official history of the war commissioned by King Jonathan IV and the Council of Ten will eventually provide a more objective and detailed account. The developments that matter here, however, were largely personal ; some ballads do touch on them but at best incoherently — which as they involve immortals and gods is no surprise.

9\. By Lord Sakuyo's written testimony (in a note accompanying his wedding gift of the paintings of the siege) I was before my Ordeal as free of any god's touch as everyone believed. My efforts certainly felt like my own, and however they may have pleased or amused any god were without divine aid or sanction. But when the elemental of the chamber chose me for the quest to curtail Blayce's necromancy, it acted in concert with Lord Gainel and Lady Shakith, and thereafter I

found myself subject to divine scrutiny of palpable weight.

10\. Under varying circumstances arising from my command at New Hope during 461 I met and spoke with Lord Weiryn, the Green Lady, the Black God, the Graveyard Hag, and the Great Goddess ; and with many at New Hope became one of Lord Sakuyo's Blessed, having heard his laugh among other High voices when shrines were dedicated. The circumstances prompting all this divine concern were (in so far as I understand them) specific to that time, and to Chaotic remnants of the Immortals War ; what has general relevance is my growing awareness of having a degree of leeway the gods would respect.

11\. By 'leeway' I do not mean indulgence. Had I done anything abhorrent to or in defiance of divine conscience my punishment would have been condign. What I do mean is that, with all due care for that conscience and my own honour, I might at need and to proper ends seek to cast the shadow of the gods upon the enemy without fear of being denied.

12\. I take leave here to remark that the many gods' various senses of humour are typically taken into far too little consideration, and piety cannot in itself substitute for appreciation.

13\. In the matter of immortals I have come to believe that (with one exception) the particular kinds of whom I acquired experience and friendship in building and commanding New Hope matter less than the principle of co-operation between kinds. For the record, the kinds whose aid I obtained were dragons, basilisks, spidrens, ogres, griffins, centaurs, stormwings, and darkings, and what I did depended both on their innate powers and on the particular skills of individuals among them. But anyone else at another time will necessarily have a quite different range of kinds and individuals available. What matters is the willingness and ability to piece together whatever co-operation can achieve.

14\. The building of New Hope by mages, basilisks, and mortals, on the basis of a survey using dragon magic, and according to principles codified by Master Orchan three centuries ago, is a prime example. It could not have been done as it was, nor anything so swiftly, by any kind acting alone. Similarly, my analysis of the enemy forces during the siege depended on a combination of knowledge about King Maggur's methods, stormwing ability to read mortal emotions, and darking contact. Only in their concert could the potency of information available from experience and briefings be realised.

15\. The resources available to me were exceptional. Quenuresh is the oldest living spidren and among the greatest illusion mages on record. Queen Barzha Razorwing, likewise, is the oldest living stormwing and a great power among her kind. But I repeat : without co-operation what was achieved could not have been, and the merged powers were substantially greater than the sum of parts.

16\. That one exception is dragons. Like many living in the Royal Palace during the 450s I made the acquaintance of Lady Skysong, the Godborn's ward who bids fair to become a dragon of remarkable powers, yet is only in her first decades and in unfledged form and young strength significantly unlike an adult of her kind. But in 461, though then ignorant of it, through Lady Skysong, Lady Kawit Pearlscales, and my treaties with basilisks and other immortals, I acquired the dragons' attention with the gods', and was eventually to play an inadvertent and uncertain part in the resolution of some old business between them. Its details (of which I have in any case only the haziest half-understanding) are irrelevant here, but meant that my first contact with an adult winged dragon was with Lord Diamondflame.

17\. Lord Diamondflame is by no means the largest dragon, but he is (saving only Lord Rainbow Windheart, as Convenor of the Dragonmeet and Eldest) magically and politically dominant. To deal with him is not only to deal with the deep knowledge of more than ninety centuries, but with what is in effect the executive power among dragonkind, and gave me assurance that if he were

satisfied with my actions (and motives) no other dragon would take offence.

18\. I add the obvious, that no mortal (save a Black Robe mage) can hope to fight any adult dragon. All are mages and impossible to resist by force, so should you stand in the least danger of falling foul of one the only sensible thing to do is to stop at once and open negotiations. The nearest representative of the Craftsbeings' Guild can establish contact with Lords Diamondflame or Rainbow ; and thereafter matters may be resolved by polite and reasonable conference, provided the mortal party recognises and respects dragon concerns.

19\. Beyond this, the chance to observe the interaction, at New Hope, of Lady Skysong and Lady Kawit with the Scanran prisoners taken at the Battle of Scything Wheat (in June 462), had alerted me to the particular attitudes of Scanrans towards both draca and wyrm (flying and opal dragons). In a fashion scholars observe but cannot explain, Scanran sagas, with which all adults are familiar, preserve memories of dragons as they were in the Godwars — beings of surpassing power capable of visiting fiery destruction as they willed. The pre-eminent power of dragons among immortals has naturally resulted in widespread awe of them, reflected in the cultures and stories of many lands, and in the Scanran case that spiritual susceptibility is for whatever reasons exceptionally pronounced.

20\. The outcome of these intermediate developments was that at the commencement of the siege in February 463 I was aware of the following :

(a)that Quenuresh was a serious mistress of illusion ;

(b) that griffins might be persuaded to countenance an illusion if it served both jest and justice while respecting divine powers and the regard of dragons ;

(c) that stormwings and other immortals might be similarly indulgent if the same considerations were met ;

(d) that the composition of the enemy forces on which I had been briefed — loyalists, coerced

(through hostages from their clanchief's families or their own), and conscripted — was confirmed (by stormwings, via darkings) as an organisational principle informing their disposition in the field ;

(e) that Quenuresh's and darkings' abilities to communicate across space and kinds would enable me, as commander, to consult my allies closely, taking careful soundings in evolving any plan or strategem ; and

(f) that I had both the leeway and ample strategic inducement to deploy a fear of dragons against my enemy.

21\. I take further leave to observe that the relations of the verbs to command and to appeal (in all senses) deserves sustained consideration by any who would attempt either.

22\. Lord Diamondflame adds :

As our contact with the mortal realms is being renewed through our embassy to New Hope, clarity seems wise. We may indeed be contacted by darkings of the Craftsbeings' Guild, and will negotiate in good faith a resolution to any conflict of our own interests with those of mortals, should one arise. But beware — we will be almost as unamused by needless enquiry as by heedless conduct, and the Dragonlands remain as closed to mortals as any Divine Realm, save by specific invitation and countenance. I would observe also that the debt every dragon owes the Protector for her part in the creation of Drachifethe is not one that can ever be owed to another, and that while mortals acting lawfully and in honour may safely presume our neutrality towards

them, that is all they may so presume.

23\. Sir Nealan of Queenscove adds :

"Countess Keladry again omits to mention her cumulative effect as commander on the morale and efficiency of New Hope. Besides being trained in every contingency to within an inch of our lives, all under her command there had seen her forge treaties and bonds of friendship with immortals of many kinds, including Lord Diamondflame ; we dwelt in a strongplace of unique, profoundly impressive design that we knew to be her doing ; and we had seen her devotion to our safety repeatedly demonstrated under the cruellest circumstances. King Maggur and others believed a woman's command would be easy pickings ; we knew it would be the nut to break his teeth. The strength of the forces eventually deployed against us was dismaying, yet both rational and less rational confidence remained extremely high throughout hostilities. Countess Keladry's obdurate and devastatingly effective defence during the first days of the siege, which set up the spiritual strategem she employed, rested on the morale she had created, and of which she was the lynchpin."

24\. Count Domitan of New Hope adds :

"I came late to New Hope, in mid-462, as a wounded and discharged veteran, and fell into an astonishment from which I have yet to recover. The best fixed defences (and New Hope's are outstanding) are worthless unless properly manned, and the combined efficiency and morale Lady Keladry sustained were no less critical than glacis or palisades — the more so as we were until reinforcement in January 463 badly understrength for the size of the command. It is not easy to speak of such things, but any soldier who has been in a general combat will be aware of the way confidence can crumple or surge in many individuals at once, without obvious local cause — and as reciprocals, one's own confidence reflected in the enemy's despair, or vice versa. Whatever confidence the Scanrans brought to the Greenwoods Valley must have begun to ebb with their first sight of New Hope, and to have run out like water thereafter, so that by the time of the spiritual strategem all but the most hardened of King Maggur's loyalists were dubious of victory and primed to desert should (honourable) opportunity arise."

The Siege of New Hope

25\. For obvious reasons the siege inseparably combined political and military considerations, and both dictated (beyond effective defence) the need to bleed the enemy as heavily as possible. Only by eliminating King Maggur's hardcore loyalists could the trap set for him by King Jonathan be made into a complete victory.

26\. It is a maxim of Lord Raoul of Goldenlake that if you don't like the odds against you, you

should change them, which in practice usually means a flexible strategy affording multiple defeats of the enemy in detail. The trick was to manage this against an encamped besieging force.

27\. Besieging forces always need to supplement their food by hunting, and to gather firewood. I had therefore long planned a strike by concealed rockfalls against the Scanran commissariat as it arrived, with the intent of increasing their need to hunt, and had arranged with spidren and centaur allies resident in New Hope's woods that entering them would be hazardous in the extreme. In consequence, besides casualties sustained in the rockfalls, there was from the first day a steady attrition suffered by Scanran hunting and wood-gathering parties which ate at their morale.

28\. The effects of this were amplified by the composition of the Scanran forces, and that factor was always in my mind. The particular mix of loyalist (dependable, eager), coerced (competent, willing), and conscripted (half-trained, reluctant) forces that were at King Maggur's disposal arose from Scanran culture and his chosen methods of rule, and was the greatest weakness available to me to exploit.

29\. The position of King Maggur's loyalists was affected by the consideration that if they failed at New Hope they had nowhere else to go. Do-or-die despair made them more dangerous, but for King Maggur set up a conflict between his need to use them to crack open New Hope and to have them available thereafter.

30\. The position of coerced troops was the most complex. Willingly loyal to their clanchiefs and obedient to command, but unwillingly loyal to King Maggur, to whom they were expendable but not lightly ; bound and counterbound by oath, blódbeallár, and soldierly pride. How to disturb them spiritually was the most urgent unresolved strategy as the siege began.

31\. The conscripted were in essence civilians, and little trained. King Maggur, plainly, would use them recklessly to draw the teeth of fixed defences, and they were the most likely to desert him given opportunity. This conviction was reinforced by the organisation of the Scanran encampment, with a cordon of loyalist companies that seemed designed to forestall others' night-time flight.

32\. I was aware of that organisation because the Stone Tree Nation emotionally mapped the arriving Scanran column and establishment of a camp for me. The aid of stormwing allies as sources of intelligence beyond mortal observation was critical.

33\. The Tortallan traitors who allowed themselves on the day of their arrival to be recklessly used against the fixed defences, before even the conscripted, were less of a bonus for King Maggur than I believe he (or Sven Bjornsson, commanding under him) supposed. Their slaughter in the killing field of the roadway, though exposing and using some of the bombs covering it, provided an object lesson for the coerced and conscripted — that to be in the van of any assault on New Hope was to die, swiftly and in great numbers.

34\. As much might be said of the assault by giants at dawn on the second day, who must in the way of immortal allies have had substantial spritual value for all Scanran forces. Moreover, the manner of the giants' final defeat in that assault — the petrification by Var'istaan of the foremost, standing on the outer parapet, and its toppling outwards (to shatter explosively on the glacis) by Master Numair Salmalín — established an ascendancy of Tortallan immortals and magery that played a major part in the success of the spiritual strategem. I will add that the only ballad arising from the siege I am happy to recommend is that in Old Ogric known among immortals by its short title, the Song of the Surprise of the Petrified Giant who fell from the Outer Wall of the Citadel of Lord Sakuyo's Blessed known among Mortals as New Hope and so Proving during the Great Spiral of the Timeway that Concluded the Feud of Gods and Dragons concerning the Godslain of the Godwars.

35\. Although I was not yet aware of its nature, the Scanran efforts to assemble what would plainly be a siege engine of great potency, evident from the second day, made it imperative for me to take as much offensive and disruptive action against the Scanran forces as rapidly as possible.

36\. It was also clear that, prior to any further assault, our greatest danger came from very heavy Scanran volley fire ; and the simplest analysis showed that the weight of fire was due to the use of a high percentage of the besieging forces as archers. As a volley weapon at distance the bow is the easiest of military skills to acquire, and outside cities many civilians have a basic defensive or hunting competence. Thus King Maggur was able to employ a large part of his forces to maintain what seemed a perpetual rain of arrows, and so wage a war of attrition I could not begin to afford.

37\. The mere picket assigned to watch the corral showed the Scanran command to be unaware of our capacity to sally, but given the respective strengths of the forces no sally was then likely to be profitable, and very likely to prove a disastrous loss.

38\. It was therefore imperative to devise a strategem that would maximally divide and weaken the besieging forces, and the obvious tools available were my immortal allies, including a great illusion mage, while the obvious Scanran weaknesses were the tripartite division of their forces and their peculiar attitude to dragons.

39\. Plainly, therefore, the illusion of a dragon threatening vengeance was called for.

40\. Equally plainly, the effect could be maximised if :

(a)the cordon of loyalists could be diposed of ;

(b) the conscripted could be offered a flat choice between staying to swift doom and flight to safety ;

(c) some play on blódbeallár could be made that would disturb the sensibilities of the coerced ; and

(d) the illusion were enhanced as much as possible, as unexpectedly as possible, and in some fashion given the additional seeming of divine endorsement.

41\. Effects on morale may be achieved at a blow, but are more often achieved incrementally. Bluntly, a one-two punch works better than a haymaker.

42\. The spiritual strategem was therefore devised in what I always thought of as three acts, as in a stage play. The first was the illusion proper — by Quenuresh's grace, as large a dragon as she could manage, more closely resembling the violent dragons of Scanran saga than the reality of living dragons, enhanced in every way possible. Besides the use in seeming dragonfire of the runes ctheorh and yr, the fire-bow, associated with the vengeance and might of dragons, stormwings, griffins, and many birds took to the skies shortly before the dragon's appearance, shrieking in their own way, while every dog barked and a cat howled from the alures.

43\. The participation of the People was possible because of the effect proximity to the Godborn has, and because she had gifted many at New Hope with greater wit. My sparrows were able to recruit wild cousins, and apparently spontaneous participation by animals usually unaffected by mortal illusions lent this one a spurious credibility.

44\. The griffins also participated by escorting the illusory dragon. This was possible only because

:

(a) the griffins (who honour dragons as senior kin) were aware I knew Lord Diamondflame, and that the defence of New Hope had received his blessing ; and

(b) were further aware, through their son (whom I at one time raised, and who has since their relocation to the Greenwoods inserted himself irrepressibly in mortal affairs), that I proposed to visit on the Scanrans, in punishment for attacking a place blessed by a dragon, a reflection of their 'song-lies' about dragonkind.

45\. Given griffins' innate opposition to falsehood (and the role of the Honesty Gate in detecting the coerced refugees early in 462) their presence made it particularly hard for King Maggur's mages and others who could sense the truth to proclaim it. But if all the enhancements helped, another truth is that the conscripted Scanrans at heart believed in it because they were by then strongly predisposed to believe themselves doomed and revile the king who had made them so.

46\. The second act, in darkness, was a slaughter of the loyalist perimeter penning in the conscripted. It was necessary this be achieved silently, and it was undertaken by a mixed force of spidrens and centaurs, cloaked by Quenuresh, who cut open canvas and passed unseen into tents.

Complete elimination of the perimeter was neither possible nor necessary — but it was sufficiently thinned and weakened that it could not resist any stampede of the conscripted.

47\. The third act had to be the hammerblow, and was therefore designed to take maximal advantage of both blódbeallár and the leeway I was afforded by gods — in particular Lord Sakuyo, who likes his tricks. With the assistance of Masters Numair Salmalín and Harailt of Aili in waking the Scanran camp shortly before dawn, I was able to invoke blódbeallár by calling on Maggur Reidarsson by bare name. An extremely carefully worded gods' oath then seemed to endorse the vengeance promised by the illusion, though actually attesting to no more than the gods' detestation of necromancy and expressed care for New Hope ; and was itself endorsed by chimes that were in Lord Sakuyo's amusement made especially loud, and accompanied by the hawk's scream of Lady Shakith. It only remained to inform the conscripted that the way was open for flight, and if they took it spidrens and centaurs in the woods would let them pass and supply them with rations, making survival a genuine as well as attractive possibility.

48\. In the event, it worked to the very best of my hopes. The conscripted fled, almost to a man ; and the coerced were sufficiently troubled by the implications of the supposed dragon and manifest chimes that after negotiations with King Maggur and Sven Bjornsson they formally withdrew from combat to await the decision of my challenge, in Maggur Reidarsson's death or my own. This was not the sensible aversion to being sacrificed of the conscripted, but proper (and under their circumstances very courageous) behaviour in accordance with blódbeallár.

49\. The strategem was critical to ultimate victory, because it reduced the effective forces available to King Maggur for the assault, and ensured it would be made by his loyalists ; who were slaughtered in the killing field of the roadway by blazebalm, pit-trap, dragonfire, and innumerable volleys. Only a skeleton guard was left around King Maggur and his commanders, who thus became vulnerable to a sally.

50\. Although by grace of Lord Diamondflame I could use dragonfire in defence of New Hope, and had planned the illusion in full knowledge I might in a limited sense be able to make it real, I desperately hoped not to have to use that dragonfire. Any who have seen what it does to flesh and bone will know why. But in the event I had no choice, and although there was no material connection the real dragonfire seemed retrospectively to confirm the illusory dragon. This helped to make effective my call for a blódbeallár truce once my glaive was at King Maggur's throat.

51\. So may my use, shortly before the assault, of a sunbird-fletched arrow to destroy the trebuchet, but I did not then relate its fire to the theme of the illusion. The gods and dragons probably had anticipated the connection, but to what end or interest I cannot say.

52\. The role of the Stone Tree Nation in King Maggur's death was part of a different pattern altogether, and I regard it as a blessing of Lord Sakuyo, and perhaps other gods, that it served to compound the spiritual strategem and helped to sustain the blódbeallár truce. I did however realise in the moment that King Maggur's death at no Tortallan's hand forestalled any direct loyalist challenge in vengeance.

53\. Sir Nealan of Queenscove adds :

"The fact is, Countess Keladry played the Scanrans like a rebec, and while I devoutly believe that more gods than Lord Sakuyo assisted her, I also believe that the gods act with and on what a mortal can offer them ; gods-blessed to the helm as she may have been, what happened was her doing. I claim a minor proprietary interest, as the term spiritual warfare is my coinage (in discussions during and after Rathhausak) ; but she is the master of its practice. Very much against her will, I take leave to add that the bitter garden in which that mastery grew was the widespread and in some cases unremitting hostility to which she was subject as page, squire, and lady knight (commander). I do so because it is connected : the besiegers of New Hope included traitorous

Tortallan forces, motivated in no small measure by personal contempt and hatred, and their summary annihilation on the first day of combat was an evident and deadly justice that underpinned the (illusory) threat of righteous draconic vengeance."

54\. Quenuresh adds :

"The illusion of a flying dragon generating runes of fire was the most complex I have ever undertaken. As I have often found occasion to remark, the Protector makes life unusually interesting. The griffins' participation was a significant factor in my agreement ; so too (though she will not thank me for saying so) was the Protector's demeanour in the immediate aftermath of her return by the Black God and his daughter. No greater agony and dislocation can be imagined, yet the Protector's utter commitment was unchanged. I have now lived more than sixty centuries and never seen the like in any other mortal. And besides, it is always wise to heed those the gods regard."

55\. Kuriaju adds :

"The Old Ogric ballad to which the Protector refers was composed by Olimiariaju, familarly known as Earfiller and much esteemed. It has been added (by order of the Ogric Council) to the compulsory teachings of our young. I also endorse the Protector's remarks about it being the idea and not the particulars of cooperation that matters : her name among us might be translated in part as the mortal woman of their younglings who sees the great truths of farming, mining, and fighting alike."

Observations

56\. All that is really at stake is the truth of two simple and time-honoured maxims – know your enemy and know your own strengths. And all I did was to devise the best plan I could, given the resources I had and the opponents I faced.

57\. The only assumptions I made were that my enemy was subject to mortal fears and misunderstandings, and that all gods have a sense of humour that may be hard to appreciate but is an honest guide once found.

58\. King Maggur's army could not have been so divided and reduced by any strategem had divisions with wrenching internal effects not existed in the first place. I told him before he died that he had sold his nation piecemeal to the gods, and meant it.

59\. In truth, for all King Maggur's brutal efficiency, energy, and innovative cunning, his rule never achieved stability. Seizing power by force and holding it by extorted oaths, he was driven to war less by Scanra's need than by his own momentum, and like a man running downhill found that to stop would be to fall. To trip him was in the end a simple thrust, the work of a moment, however complex the elements that made it possible.

60\. While gods and dragons each had their reasons for withholding objection to a strategem improperly invoking both, their mutual amusement at its essential justice and mercy — exploiting false belief and true guilt to preserve lives — was (I am certain) an essential inducement. While demanding all proper respect, both in my experience have long been bored with mortal fawning or fear and prefer witting temerity, especially on others' behalves.

61\. A spiritual strategem attempted to a (largely) selfish end would therefore not fare well in divine or most immortal eyes, while one maximising benefit to all — the enemy's rank-and-file as much as one's own — will far more probably do so.

62\. My inspiration was the sacred Yamani practice of practical jokes in the name of Lord Sakuyo,

and whatever Sir Nealan says, what happened at New Hope, strategem and all, was by his own divine testimony only one part of his greatest jest in an age, that however it may seem of my devising was played on me as much as on all Tortallans and Scanrans, and over at least two generations. Only consider — a Lady Knight running a refugee camp asked a spidren mage, a stormwing nation, three griffins, and some dogs and sparrows to help her stop the killing by frightening the enemy with an illusory dragon — and you may begin to sense its shape.

63\. My being a woman was thus relevant in so far as it contributed to the mortal prejudices and misperceptions against which Lord Sakuyo's jest was (in so far as I understand it) directed. It served and amused divine purpose to have a girl win a war by stopping it, and to understand more you should study the ways of Lord Sakuyo and the Great Goddess.

64\. Lady Yukimi noh Daiomoru of Queenscove, a veteran of the siege, adds :

"While I believe Countess Keladry is quite correct in her perception of a very great divine jest that turned on her identity as a lady knight (and achievement of that status and of command, despite bitter opposition and to general astonishment), the best of Lord Sakuyo's jests catch the jester even as they work their good. If the High One is himself caught up into Tortall, so the Countess has been caught into a duty of care encompassing a mighty fief, and a creation that will fill all her years and outlast her grandchildren's — a Blessed jest in very earnest, as the best must be."

65\. Lady Skysong adds :

I thought it was an excellent joke when I learned of it in proper detail from Quenuresh. The Scanran king did very bad things and Scanran sagas say many ridiculous things about dragons. Scaring the men who attacked New Hope with a most improbable one was a proper response, and the tale is much laughed at in the Dragonlands and, according to my grandsire, other Divine Realms also.

66\. Quenuresh adds :

"Though I doubt it was ever intended to encompass them, some wider aspects of what the Protector rightly deems a divine jest are not lost on immortals. If Tortall's present society was surprised to find its foremost young knight commander to be a heroine rather than a hero, immortals have been equally surprised that such wise power should arise in a mortal, let alone one so young. It has not happened in two eons, and all kinds known to me have been instructively amused by the ironies implicit in the Protector's still unfolding tale."

67\. Ebony adds :

"Darkings approved. Funfunfun."

68\. Stenmun Gunnarsson, Clan Somalkt, who was subject to the strategem and participated in the negotiations with King Maggur that led to the withdrawal of coerced troops from combat, adds :

"I can see that dragon even now, and knowing it to have been an illusion does not diminish the shock of memory. Clanchief Hléoburh is right that sagas primed us, and that immortals' and animals' reactions sowed doubt of illusion despite assertions by mages and giants that it was so. But she is also right that it was as much an excuse for honour to reassert itself among clansmen as a flail to drive conscripted civilians into flight. The runes also were superbly judged, a reminder of dire justice for dire crimes, which I believe to have happened at New Hope when the truth behind illusion was fulfilled in the fate of the beserkir and others who died assailing New Hope in defiance of fair and generous warning. I would also call justice much of what the Clanchief calls jest, but Scanra too was profoundly surprised to see our late and unlamented king fall to a woman not then of age yet also a dragonlord, and remains so at finding her now a clanchief of the nation."

69\. Lord Sakuyo, deserving as often the last word, adds :

My favourite daughter is a gem, isn't she? My jest needed a puissant female warrior, and Keladry-chan was shining so brightly to hand — so great in spirit she was much in favour with a dozen of my brothers and sisters, and a marvellous jester in her own right, not that she usually realises it. Only gods, of course, may appreciate my jest (and hers within it) in its full magnificence, though that shouldn't stop mortals trying, and we laugh at them still ; as you would, reader, could you see your own face at this moment, and be the better for it.

S.

"What?" Kel sat bolt upright in her chair with indignant astonishment. "Dom! What's this last paragraph doing here?"

"Eh?" Dom looked up cautiously from his own copy. "Stenmun's stuff?"

"No, after that."

"Um, there isn't anything after that."

"There is now." Grimly Kel held out the book and he came to look.

"Oh. My." The offending paragraph was not printed but in a casually beautiful small calligraphy. Walking carefully, Dom went back to check his own copy and swallowed. "It's in mine too, which I swear it wasn't earlier."

"Wonderful. More divine humour at my expense." Kel was too shocked to be angry, staring at Dom in consternation until both of them heard the laughing voice.

Think it through, daughter,

"Gah!"

But as she did so a smile slowly glimmered onto Kel's lips. "Well, I don't suppose it'll hurt sales. We'd best warn the printers even more copies than we thought will be needed, I suppose. And get a licence to print their own to Yaman double quick." Her eyes rested on the gorgeous calligraphy and her smile sharpened. "Everyone there will want a copy, and if there's any justice His Nibs'll get writer's cramp." She couldn't stifle her laugh at Dom's shock and felt the calm of Lord Sakuyo's amused blessing well up in her breast as she contemplated Yuki's and Cricket's reactions. Not to mention that of the king. And quite a lot of other people's too.

Suppressing laughter but not her smile, Thayet reverently closed the explosive little codex and looked at her husband. "And?"

"And complete mayhem!" Jonathan was half-smiling himself, though. "The commentary is terrifying, the 'Note' is extraordinary, and Lord Sakuyo's words will have half the population raving, never mind every last divine. I can't begin to imagine what the effects will be in Yaman."

"So? That's not your problem." Thayet leaned forward. "Jon, Lord Sakuyo says we'd be the better for laughing at ourselves. I've been telling you that for years. And don't you see? His words are the purest spiritual warfare — they make Kel's book a … I don't know, a working lesson, an embodiment of the thing. It sets his cat among our pigeons as surely as Kel set her dragon among

the Scanrans."

Jonathan was arrested and his face grew very thoughtful. After a moment he shook his head slowly, as if to clear it.

"That's … very sharp indeed, love. A gift to us all through her, and a diet of divine ironies. Gods!" He gave her a rueful look. "I wish I was better at them."

Thayet was still smiling. "Try asking Shinko. She's very interesting on Lord Sakuyo, and on our Kel. And remember what she said Kel said to her at Lalasa's wedding — that she thought she and Shinko were both parts of a divine joke on us all." Her tone grew thoughtful. "I bet that's what Kel means about Lord Sakuyo's jest spanning generations. The gods must work with mortal possibilities as well as realities. Maybe what the Goddess did with Alanna was the model." Clarity flashed in her mind. "No, the seed. And this is another seed, for Roald's reign as much as yours, and he has Shinko to help him with it. I bet in one part of the jest this is her dowry as well as Kel's."

Jonathan slowly nodded, more resigned than dismayed. "Wisdom, love, though not a perspective I much care for. Nor for having my reign quite so summarily redefined."

"Live with it, and cultivate your sense of humour. Try thinking of all the fun you're going to be able to have over the next few years goosing people with presentation copies." Thayet gave an urchin grin. "What do you suppose Lord Wyldon'll think when he gets his?"

Wyldon very gently closed the volume, feeling the roil of shocked emotion, and found his uppermost thought a rueful appreciation of the value of lessons from the young. He rubbed his forehead, little finger trailing down to his scars, and was arrested as so often of late by the absence of pain. When Baird had treated him after the great sally for the sword slash he'd taken that bisected his hurrok scars, the healer had at Keladry's insistence, brooking no opposition, done what he could to ease the older wounds. He'd been too shocked by all that had just happened — and, he knew, too much in awe of what Keladry had done — to protest ; and what this absence of pain meant, or his prior addicted pride to enduring it without the relief available, he was still discovering. The process was properly uncomfortable, and yet beyond all doubt an extraordinary blessing on a life turned upside down.

He had thought himself an honest and conscientious man, upright in the sight of the gods, but the magnitude of his error in judging Keladry, the rolling revelations of his ignorance, and the benison beyond deserving of her friendship despite it all had collectively left him reeling. Return to Cavall and its much missed familiarities had helped, though even here the visits of Wuodan and Frige were transforming his beloved kennels. And now this! Sighing softly he steepled his fingers and considered the grey-eyed hellion intent on his daughter, who had brought him the book on Keladry's behalf and was waiting patiently, seated in the other chair.

"She's done it again, hasn't she?"

Sir Owen of Jesslaw grinned. "With Lord Sakuyo's help, my Lord. It makes my head spin, but with Kel that's usually the point. Even Quenuresh agrees."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That stuff about the Protector making life unusually interesting? For an immortal that's strong words, and they're all at it." He frowned slightly. "I must ask Kuriaju about that ballad next time I'm there. It sounds jolly."

Wyldon blinked, but the thought came that he had never actually heard an Old Ogric ballad and Jesslaw had a point. "Only you, Owen." He saw the boy's — man's — pleasure at so simple a thing as use of his name. "But tell me what else you understand of this astonishing document."

"Of course, my Lord, but I meant what I said about my head spinning. Kel always catches us out on our silly assumptions. This is more of the same, and as best I understand Yuki's explanations that's what Lord Sakuyo likes doing too." The grey eyes became shrewd in that disconcerting way. "But I think he's learned a thing or two worth knowing from her about how to do it and the book's the result."

Long inured to Owen's grammar, Wyldon found that while his head hurt his heart didn't, and that he wouldn't be surprised if the cheerful impiety was squarely in the gold. To meditate on that would take privacy and time, but praise where praise was due.

"That's a very interesting thought, Owen. Thank you." His smile was returned.

"You're very welcome, my Lord. And you should ask Wuodan next time he turns up. He's a friend of Dabeyoun's too, so he should get the trickster perspective as well as the divine one, and all with hound sense."

Owen nodded sagely, and Wyldon let his head rest on his hands for a moment. It was easier.

Jorvik Hamrsson looked around the Council of Ten, gauging tempers.

"So. We have all read it and shuddered. 'Played us like a rebec' is right." He sighed. "And yet, would any here willingly go back to the days of Maggur Reidarsson? Or deny that we have been done great benefit against our desires and to the humbling of our pride? Spiritual warfare indeed." He paused, then went on more briskly. "A true response will be required, but in the meantime I propose a Council order requiring every Clanchief, deputy, and chiefsman to read this. And I suggest strongly that we all make very sure our own heirs understand the principal lesson, which is that anyone in their right mind should treat Clanchief Hléoburh much as she sensibly suggests that all treat dragons."

There were rueful nods all round.

"The bards must read it too, Jorvik Hamrsson." Ragnar Ragnarsson, inevitably, grinned at his fellows on the Council. "I knew they weren't getting it right. And while you're quite right about the lesson, and about dragons, shouldn't we also hasten to thank Lord Sakuyo for his blessings?" He clasped great hands before him. "In all seriousness, that High One is already present among us, as among our new Tortallan allies, and he should not go unrespected even as he is heeded."

Hamrsson blinked. "That sounds like wisdom, however hard to swallow. What had you in mind, Ragnar Ragnarsson?"

"Proper shrines at least, here and at Somalkt if nowhere else." Blue eyes gleamed unnervingly. "And his Day of Jests in April, as they have in Yaman and at Hléoburh. There is a tradition we could profitably adopt, and enrich in our own ways. Think of it! All of Scanra jesting with the spring!"

They thought, and shuddered again.

Neal would have laughed for a week if Yuki had let him, but even she could hardly object to his joyous guffaws while they were thanking Lord Sakuyo at the shrine she maintained, nor to his happy promise to build Queenscove a proper one — a temple, even, as he more soberly suggested to his father later that evening.

Baird nodded at once. "Yes indeed, Nealan. I should have thought of it myself. It's only proper for Yukimi, and understanding more clearly how active Lord Sakuyo was at New Hope, for all of us too." He smiled at the thought. "And it's not as if they'll be any objections once this news gets about."

Neal grinned. "No. A lot of new Sakuyan shrines and temples will be dedicated, I'm sure. We should get first dibs on Master Geraint and the Guild team when they get back from Edo."

"More good thinking." Baird made himself a note. "Piers may forestall us, though. And the King." "Second or third dibs is fine."

"Yes." Baird's voice became teasing. "I enjoyed your paragraphs, though I don't suppose Keladry thanked you for them."

"She was furious." Neal grinned unrepentantly. "Yuki agreed, though. And her paragraph just made Kel nod resigned agreement, according to Dom."

"You've corresponded about it?"

"Spellmirror, when I was in Corus. He was very wary about the whole thing at first, because Kel was so grumpy, but he agreed with Wyldon it ought to be written and finessed Kel into allowing all the comments to stand. And mine were some spiritual warfare of my own — Kel being so modest that she solicited comments meant she had to put up with those she got. Which were all true anyway."

Baird had to laugh. "I thought so, from my limited experience of her command. And I do agree that her evident modesty even when her name resounds across realms is as odd as it is astonishing. But you know, I'm back to feeling I don't understand her at all." He became reflective. "It seems to come in waves — I think I might have some grasp of who she is and then discover all over again that I don't have a clue. To walk so with gods and dragons!" He shook his head. "And yet she seems to think everything she does straightforward."

"Because it is, father." Neal's hands began to wave. "It was when she was a page, and it still is. Bullying's wrong, knights should fight wrong, pages are training to be knights, so punch the bully even if there's three of him two years senior. And New Hope was just the same. Not just that dragon and the trebuchet, but, oh, the corpses, say. You and I were flapping healers' hands with worry, Numair and Harailt were fossicking after blood magic and wondering what to do, and hundreds of people with all the relevant facts were hating hard labour under vile conditions to clear the roadway, making only the slowest progress, and dreading the morrow. And then what?" Arms waved with wild eloquence. "Kel takes one look and goes, 'Right. Sorcerer's Dance to clear and pile, raw power to cleanse, and a sunbird arrow to cremate. Chop chop.' And less than ten hours later it's all done." He scowled ferociously. "And the fact that no-one who saw it will ever forget it is to Kel merely a side-effect of self-evident necessity. She says she was simply getting on with her plain duty in the simplest available way. It's outrageous."

Suddenly he sobered and looked at his father with shadowed eyes.

"Actually, we're friends because we're opposites in most respects. Kel must have had hammering

emotions after seeing her mother save those swords, but the Yamani training locked it all down tighter than a drum. And I had no emotional control at all, for reasons I'm sure you and mother understand all too well. So we complemented one another in the nature of our scars. But it took me far too long to understand … I still don't know, the steel of her goodness, maybe, which is what her directness expresses. See wrong, smite it. See the vulnerable, protect them. Now, with no excuses or expedient delay. Mortals, immortals, People, gods — it makes no odds to her. But even her mother admits she can be earnest to a fault, and what I really think about that thing" — he gestured to the book — "is that Lord Sakuyo's paying some very overdue wages. Those paintings were a first installment. This is a second."

An unholy grin lit his son's face and Baird felt his heart beat more fiercely.

"I wonder if there'll be a third?"


	36. Chapter 36

Summons

One : Summons

New Hope, Midwinter, 463 – February 464 HE

"You want me to speak?" Kel looked at her parents and brother in some distress.

"You are the host, my dear. It's perfectly traditional."

"But you're head of the family, Papa. And the duke."

His voice was gentle. "So I am, but our family's future is now as much or more your creation as mine and your mother's. And it's quite clear New Hope will be its heart, however Mindelan prospers in harness."

Kel looked worriedly at Anders but he was smiling and for a moment she could see their father in him. "It's true, Kel, and you know it. So do our people at Mindelan — and they have done since you marched Vorgitarl into the town square." He shook his head at the memory. "They know leadership when they see it, as I do, and Inness. And frankly, little sister, I thank Lord Mithros and the Goddess for it, on my own behalf now and on Lachran's for the future."

"We all do, sweeting." Ilane sat forward. "Why do you think I insisted all the children come for Midwinter, though they'd been here for your wedding and it meant Tilaine leaving poor Inness on his own at Mindelan? It's not just because they're all thrilled with young dragons. Not that that hurts, mind, but it's the future that matters, and they'll all be factors and emissaries you can trust." Kel's eyes widened and her mother looked smug. "Kin who understand you, sweeting, not just your legend, and understand New Hope because they'll have grown up with it. And kin who have connections with Richcaffery, Teresian, Nond, Hannalof, and haMinch — you could do worse than extend some discreet patronage to your in-laws, you know. Make them gateways for apprenticeships or employment at New Hope."

Momently speechless between her urges to laugh and howl, Kel found her mind kicking in and heaved herself upright, walking to the window to stare out towards the shrines. Cheerful nepotism was how Tortall worked and didn't bother her in the least — blood was thicker than water, and by the time her nieces and nephews were of an age to want apprenticeships or jobs they'd be welcome, while kin networks established by marriage and fostered by patronage were always useful. Despite some pressing invitations she and Dom had declined to go to Corus for Midwinter

— the Council of Nobles wanted to welcome her to its ranks, the Army Council had any number of urgent things to talk about, the city Wardsmen felt they had to show her their progress with icelights, and her Maids, much more temptingly, were throwing a party to celebrate their success, but she'd had more than enough of kings for one year, and thought His Majesty probably felt the same way about protectors. Her parents, however, once they realised she was serious in her refusals, had promptly invited themselves to New Hope, her father giving Duke Baird his and Kel's proxies for the King's Council and her mother dragooning half her siblings to come as well. But the point about recruiting now from her brothers' and sisters' fiefs might answer a pressing question.

As local treaties with immortals mandated by the King spread across Tortall, the Craftsbeings' Guild necessarily followed — and as she was, despite her sustained protests, now the elected Guildmaster, supplying officers to establish new branches and ensure the radical model that protected members and made sure profits went to makers, not middlemen or overlords, was her headache. Those she could trust to do the job, standing up to other guildsmen and lords as needed,

were already badly overworked, and where to find more had been a sore puzzle. But noble scions would have the status and confidence, and if they owed their opportunity to kin who owed her they'd be keen to do well. It would mean bringing them to New Hope for training and to take the guild oath, but that was no problem and she felt in her bones that the idea would work. But none of that addressed this nonsense of her Papa trying to tell her that she should make what had always been his reflective address at the Midwinter feast ; that she was in effect the head of the family. She returned to her chair with a mulish look that raised eyebrows.

"Well and good, Mama, up to a point. You're right about patronage, and I'll speak to Vorinna, Tilaine, Merovec, Ortien, and Gavin. And gods know there'll be no shortage of posts when the children are grown enough to need them. But New Hope is not the senior branch and never will be, and I'm not having you or Papa or Anders deferring to me, at the feast or anywhere else. It's absurd."

"Is it, sweeting? It doesn't seem so to us."

"No, indeed. I realise it distresses you, my dear, but we would be foolish not to recognise your leadership." Her father's eyes twinkled. "We don't sell ourselves short as you do, but we're already following your lead. It surely wasn't Anders or I who shaped the astonishing events of this year."

"That was the gods. And the dragons and timeway, whatever it is."

Anders shrugged. "Was it, Kel? You insist the gods and dragons were about their own business, and New Hope incidental, but that's plainly not true of Lord Sakuyo, nor Lord Diamondflame. And I don't believe New Hope or the Guild are anyone's doing but yours." He considered her with concern. "Little sister, you accept that you lead every being here, and plan their futures every day. Why is it so hard to think you lead us too?"

"Because it's wrong." Truth broke through. "Because you're my surest anchors, father and oldest, kindest brother. I've learned to live with outranking all my friends, but their deference is a misery. And I'm bothered if the gods' blessings are going to take my family away as well."

Ilane opened her mouth but Piers, unusually, waved her to a silence that stretched for several minutes before he spoke.

"I cannot say I quite understand, my dear, but I do see the shape of your problem and its severity. And I would not willingly do anything to add to the burden you bear for us all. But I fear this is another of those ironies at which Lord Sakuyo would have his Blessed learn to laugh."

Kel nodded. "Oh yes. Very many hot needles. But I'm still not speaking in your place at the feast, Papa. Not even for Lord Sakuyo. He likes proper respect for all his jesting, and so do the Yamanis. Who would all have fits at the idea."

"Mmm." Piers considered his bewildering, profoundly blessed daughter. "The Yamanis are very practical about plain facts. But I'm happy to set up your speech, my dear."

"Un-huh. We can both talk to Vorinna and the others, but you do the announcing. And the reflection on the year." She shuddered. "I'm sure I'll be behind my fan long before you're done, but if you think I'm doing that, think again."

It was Piers's turn to show distress. "But, my dear, it makes no sense for me to be your mouthpiece. And how can I usurp your prerogatives here, of all places? Or take credit for your strength and vision?"

"Usurp my prerogatives? What you want me to do is usurp yours."

This time Ilane ignored her husband's waving hand. "We brought her up too well, love. And she has a point about Yamani attitudes." She turned to her stubbornly principled daughter. "Kel, sweeting, can we just be pragmatic? Where anything ceremonial is happening anywhere but here, rank will give your Papa and I precedence, and if you need him to speak at the feast then of course he will. But we can't ignore the reality, which is that the only person I can think of who'd share your outrage in this is your grandmother." Her voice became thoughtful. "And since you rearranged her head this summer, even she might pause."

Kel stared indignantly. "That's a low blow."

"Even so, sweeting. Will you deny you protected all of us from her moaning? And with greater success than anyone else has ever managed? It's all Piers can do to keep her polite in public and I don't think my poor Papa had much better luck. But you gave her a dressing down and orders she obeyed." Ilane smiled at the memory. "You've come of age, Kel, and how. All the things we hoped for you — a good husband, children, a secure home — but so much more as well. And among it a vision none of us can begin to match, with an authority immortals recognise and the gods are using. You know as well as we do that where those sorts of things are concerned we couldn't overrule you if we wanted to, not that we ever would. It doesn't change anything else, sweeting, but it's true."

Kel's fulminations issued, to her own surprise, in an edged laugh, and after a tumbling second of thought she held up her hands.

"Doesn't it, Mama? You might want to think that through some more. But you're right that the gods are still watching. Or His Nibs is anyway." Lord Sakuyo's calligraphy had made the nickname irresistible to her and she believed it amused him, but hadn't used it to anyone but Dom, Tobe, and Irnai before and saw both parents blink. "And I've no more idea what he might want this time than you."

Her father took a deep breath. "I don't suppose you do, my dear, but that's not really the point. Whatever it may be, you will have a better idea of it than anyone else when it happens." Kel wanted to gnash her teeth. "And while I know the dragons also do as they will, no -one else has a formal treaty with them. I know you think the term dragonlord absurd, and I grant it's less than accurate, but I understand why even your own people use it, and why it's spreading widely." He steepled his fingers. "Parental respect is all well and good, and our noble degrees proper, but your authority as Protector and as a dragonlord comes entirely from yourself, my dear, and everyone defers to it, rightly. Even the King acknowledges it."

Kel pounced. "He also acknowledges my oaths to him as Lady Knight and as Countess." She rested her hands on her swollen belly. "These two will be taught that Mindelan is the senior branch, and its duke their kinlord, so you'd better get used to the idea. And Anders and Lachran."

Her Papa's mouth opened but her Mama's hand waved as she smiled sweetly. "Whatever you say, sweeting."

"Gah!" Perhaps fortunately, further protest was forestalled by Ebony squeaking news from the Eyrie that Kel's guests for the evening, the Riversedge Council, were in sight, but the mulish look didn't leave her eye as she stood. "We're not done with this. And Mama, when you say you couldn't overrule me, you're flat wrong. You and Papa are the only people who could. As you always will be."

It was a good exit line, and she made the most of the chance.

In the event it wasn't as bad as Kel had feared. Restricting the Longnight meal to close family wasn't saying much, as four of her siblings with spouses, Tillaine, and nearly twenty nieces and nephews were in residence, not to mention Dom's family and several more distant in-laws possessed of intense curiosity about all things New Hope, as well as Heliana, who couldn't in courtesy be excluded — but she couldn't say any were less than well behaved. Demadria's and Gavin's youngest was still an infant, but her Mama was right : the children were already more at ease with immortals than most of the adults, regarding them as a thrilling adventure rather than a possible threat, yet already being trained by those same immortals to a profound respect for New Hope, and their cheerful obedience had induced a certain wary wonder in their parents. Even Lachran, released to attend by Lord Imrah on Kel's promise to maintain his weapons training, was being scrupulous, and though advancing pregnancy had reduced Kel's morning pattern dances to a minimal routine there was nothing to stop her superintending his brisk sparring with one of the duty guards, nor attaching him to the regular training sessions Uinse and Dom ran for everyone under arms.

She did have to speak, despite her misgivings, but only at her Papa's invitation after his own, embarrassing remarks. And in a strange way, having to hear them was actually quite helpful. When the King had rehearsed her deeds at her creation as a countess, his persistent exaggeration and calculated political gratitude had made it all an absurdity, but her Papa's assessment was much more sober, informed by knowledge of her weaknesses and predilections as much as appreciation of her strengths and genuine achievements. And it wasn't as if she could honestly disagree that in the last year she'd commanded the successful defence of New Hope, wielding dragonfire to do so ; invited the Stone Tree Nation to feast on and execute King Maggur, ending the Scanran war ; become a countess and a clanchief ; invited four gods to dinner ; married Dom and become pregnant (if not quite in that order) ; and signed a treaty with dragons as well as being elected a guildmaster. More importantly, though, he stayed away from the things she wanted to say herself, and heaving herself upright, burdened by an excellent meal as well as the ever enlarging twins, she found herself grinning at her siblings' assorted children.

"Well, now Papa's finished embarrassing me thoroughly I can add four things that bear on the future." She held up a finger. "The first is news only to the children, but welcome, I hope. I've spoken to all your parents about the needs New Hope and the Guild will have over the next decade — and there will be plenty, believe me. The most urgent is Guild emissaries to oversee the foundation of new branches, and as children in general seem to get on with immortals more easily than adults who remember the Immortals War I'm urging all parents who become involved to take children with them whenever practicable. And as Inness, Merovec, Ortien, and Gavin will be among them, that means" — she surveyed her nephews and nieces with a stern eye — "that if you're good and work hard you can anticipate travel and responsibilities with appropriate pay."

She held up a hand as eyes widened and mouths opened.

"Young as you are, this matters. You don't see it here because everyone is used to our basilisks, ogres, stormwings, and spidrens, as well as young dragons, but elsewhere a lot of people are still very frightened of them, and the example you can set, as children, will be important in bringing adults round."

Kel could see most of them understood what she meant and let her gaze widen to the adults.

"Now, for all Papa's praises I have no special insight into what the future holds — events this year with the timeway were a once-in-a-lifetime thing — but it doesn't need a seer to know that the whole principle of the Guild, and of New Hope, is co-operation with immortals. And frankly, Tortall has neglected that ridiculously, for years. With spidrens and stormwings it's

understandable, but ignoring the capacities of ogres and basilisks for so long was foolish. Most of you have seen the coal mine Kuriaju has started up-valley, on Fanche's and Saefas's lands, and both ogres and basilisks have worked wonders sorting out the re-opened silver mines. Tirrsmont was as stupid and callous as he was greedy, neglecting both his miners' safety and investment, but with immortal help more ore of better quality is coming up and safety has improved dramatically. With the farming ogres' terracing the same is true of crop yields. And the roving basilisk teams have made a huge difference for a lot of people."

She held up another finger.

"And that's the second thing, because as you all know one effect of the killing devices is that we're badly short of trained mages, and that will take a generation or more to rectify. But basilisks, like dragons, are all mages, and they're perfectly willing to help. It's not just quarrying and building — a stone patina insulates and fireproofs, petrification can strengthen a bridge, create preserving jars, and stabilise a dangerous slope, while basilisk glass has made windows far more affordable. So spread that word and thinking, please, all of you. Build trust, look for opportunities, and point out to everyone you deal with that having Guild immortals about isn't a burden, or a trial, but a great blessing. Yes, it'll be uphill at first, especially with nobles, but once people can see real benefits they change their tunes fast."

A third finger joined the others.

"The next thing is more complicated, but just as important, and that's Yaman. Crown Princess Shinkokami is already having a positive effect on trade generally, and because New Hope is the citadel of Sakuyo's Blessed we're in a special position." Kel blew out a breath. "And then there's that paragraph in my Note on Spiritual Warfare. What the High One is really about is anyone's guess, but we already have Yamani pilgrims coming to see Drachifethe and those absurd pictures he wished on me, as well as the treaty-bound immortals, and numbers will increase — which meand we're also going to need people who speak Yamani, don't make faces at people enjoying raw fish, and know better than to serve them cheese. So those of you who've let your Yamani slip should put that right, please, and the rest of you, with all the children, could do a lot worse than to be learning it as well as undertaking some cultural study."

She grinned at her sisters' and in-laws' looks, as did her parents and Anders, who had kept up his Yamani in dealing with the merchants who used Mindelan and Frasrlund.

"It's tricky at first, I know, but it's actually a beautifully logical language once you've got the hang of it. And if you need incentives, consider these. First, I don't know yet quite what numbers we're likely to be dealing with, but more than enough to require a new, more direct route from Mindelan to here that will need wayhouses, as well as guards and healer services. We'll have something amounting to a Yamani quarter here too. And second, while that paragraph has had a lot of people paying lip service to Lord Sakuyo, as well as some genuine piety shown in new shrines, I haven't heard of many people truly taking seriously the idea of much closer links with the Isles. And thanks to Papa and Mama, we — Mindelan and allies — have a considerable head-start. There will be a lot of opportunities in this, but it does mean taking Yamani sensibilities seriously."

One of the twins shifted, giving her a kick, and she took a sip of water while her stomach resettled itself.

"Sorry — they clearly think I've been going on too long, and they're right, but there is one more thing, which is that whatever it looks like, New Hope is seriously underpopulated. You see the bustle here and it all looks prosperous, but the vast bulk of the fief, south and north of the Vassa, is all but desert land. The fledged dragons and stormwings have been mapping it, and the more the map gets filled in, the longer my list of needs grows. The most pressing is families to keep wayhouses on the Great North Road, but there are reported coal and other deposits that need

mining, and land that can be farmed. And new settlements will need hedgewitches or healers, smiths, farriers, carters — you name it. Now, we will not become a dumping ground for troublemakers or real malcontents — I'll refuse permission to anyone I don't think reasonably honest, kind, and competent — but with that caveat we need as many people as we can get, and I'll be happy to back that up with land-grants where appropriate, or other recognition. So keep that in mind, please, whatever else you're doing, and Vorinna, Tilaine, Merovec, Ortien, and Gavin, please speak or write to your birth -family heads about this. Dom's doing the same for Masbolle and Queenscove, and I've written to Cavall, Hollyrose, Port Legann, Haryse, Tasride, Tameran, and some others. The last thing I want is resentment about poaching people who are needed, but every older fief has some restless — younger sons and daughters who won't inherit, land that can't be further subdivided, journeymen looking to start up on their own, whatever. And older fiefs, well established and set in their ways, often don't have space for them. But New Hope does, and they'll be welcome. Papa?"

She sat and her father rose again, raising his wineglass.

"I second everything Kel's said. I do remember advising my elder daughters to keep up their Yamani" — his eyes twinkled — "without much success that I ever saw, but I dare say it will come back readily enough. And Kel's other points are all well made — the children do have a natural advantage in dealing with immortals, as we've all seen, and the fact that all basilisks are mages in their own right is one that has been ignored for far too long. But her last point is most important in the short term. Mindelan certainly has a dozen families I can think of who will be delighted to have a chance of a land-grant here for the younger children, and if the same isn't true of Nond, Hannalof, and haMinchi lands I'll be very surprised. One word of advice to Merovec and Gavin, that if you encounter any, ah, immediate opposition, don't hesitate to go to the top. Lord Ferghal, unsurprisingly, thinks very well of Kel, and though I'm not sure my Lord of Nond thinks very well of anyone, his experiences here between Imbolc and the ides after Beltane left him as thoughtful as I've ever seen him. As well they might. His piety was engaged, too."

Gavin looked thoughtful himself, and Merovec and Adie both nodded.

"As to Lord Sakuyo, I have to say that, much as she hates it and properly warns us that this year's events were singular, I regard that as very much Kel's province. I hope I have never been less than respectful of the gods, but it is Ilane and Kel who caught Lord Sakuyo's attention, on the day the swords were saved, and Kel who has held it these many years. He calls her his favourite daughter, a gem and a marvellous jester in her own right — words she won't thank me for repeating, though the world knows them, and that I have pondered these last months. She tells me she believes both she and Crown Princess Shinkokami are jokes played on Tortall, and that in this, if nothing else, the Great Goddess wholly supports Lord Sakuyo — and while I can add nothing to her belief, I do urge on you all the recognition that both those High Ones, and more besides, have made it very clear that attitudes must change. So I will leave you for the coming year with this thought, that the one thing all those enemies of Tortall who have perished or fallen in the last year had in common — not only the traitors who died assaulting New Hope, and Genlith and Runnerspring, but also the late King Maggur and his crew — was contempt for women in general, and especially those entering public life. As some of you will remember, Kel's desire to seek knighthood was not universally welcomed, even within the family. It may have been a part of the gods' design, but how very blind we all were. And I believe I have a few more granddaughters than I have grandsons — to date, anyway — so think of them, please, as we drink to all our history and our dead, and all our futures and our children."

That Kel could do with good heart, mildly irritated as she was by her Papa's reverence, and as the table rearranged itself, younger children departing for bed and those old enough to be allowed to stay self-consciously circulating, she found herself bracketed by Orie and Adie.

"What?"

"Daughters."

"What about them?"

Adie answered first. "Kel, Haneta has about as much desire to enter knight training as Orie and I did."

Orie nodded. "Fionula and Verena likewise. But they're good girls, and smart with it. How do they go forward if they won't be warriors or commanders? I do hear what you say about Yamani pilgrims, but I have to say innkeeping or suchlike wasn't quite what I had in mind for them."

Kel suppressed a grin. "Point, but, oh, Supervisor of the Pilgrims' Way Resthouses, say, isn't quite innkeeping." Both her sisters' eyes took on thoughtful looks. "And while domestic management has always been a task for a woman with skills, it has never brought much public recognition — but that won't be true of Guild hosts."

"Guild hosts?" Orie echoed Adie's frown.

"Surely. You've seen how many beings are coming for Guild training and Numair's seminars, and that will continue. New branches will also need to give a fair few dinners as they become established, and then more regular ones, and one thing most immortals are not very good at is hosting mixed gatherings. You should think about my Maids as well. I know some noble families affect to look down on trade, but we don't. If someone has an aptitude for baking or sewing or weaving, whatever, a shop to prove themselves and if it works out a set of shops to manage is perfectly possible."

"Huh. That's a thought." Adie took a breath. "Kel, I've said it before, or tried to, but I am sorry Orie, Demadria, and I were so unhelpful to you before. We gave you a lot of grief and you've been nothing but generous and helpful in return, when you could easily have told us to harvest what we planted. And how we failed to see how graceful you are I have no idea."

"Graceful?"

"Oh yes." Orie was nodding vigorously. "At your wedding half the men were drooling envy of Dom, and not just because of his countship. Even Ortien is spellbound by your pattern dances, when he's awake early enough to see them. And the way you deal with everyone here — every being, I mean — is just astonishing. I don't think I've ever seen you flustered, whether it's Quenuresh with some odd request or a misbehaving dragon. Or a pair of gods and two giant hounds, come to that."

Kel stared. "Never flustered? Gods, Orie, you should see me afterwards — I take out the small change on Dom, poor dear." A chain of thoughts ran through her mind and she flushed slightly, but these were her sisters. "And to speak true, so far as being aware of anything you call grace, well, that started only with Dom. Don't you both feel it when …" She flushed more deeply and lowered her voice. "When you feel, um, I can't think of a more delicate way of saying this, but well swived?"

"Kel!" Both her sisters giggled, and Adie pursed her lips. "In the, um, afterglow, you mean? I do feel pretty good for a while, but …"

"Well, if you were in weapons training, of any kind, you'd find that translated into what you're calling grace — faster, more fluid movement and control." Kel's voice dropped further to an intimate murmur. "Alanna calls it a side-benefit for which she really thanks the Goddess."

"Really? Fascinating." Orie was smiling. "And while you're about it, Kel, Dom's injured leg doesn't …"

"Not unless we're standing up." Kel answered almost without thinking and immediately blushed again.

"Standing up?"

"Haven't you ever? Mmm. Try it, that's all I can say, except have somewhere to lie down handy."

"The bed's always there, Kel."

"Depends where you are, Orie. There's an awful lot of New Hope." Her sisters' eyes went wild with speculation. "And anyway, Dom's leg is much better than it was, thanks to Lord Mithros's blessing. Not that it needs to take any strain at all."

Adie's eyes were wide. "You, um, prefer …"

"Quite often. So does Dom."

"Oh. Merovec doesn't, ah … well, I don't know. Approve, maybe. He wants me, um …"

"Still?" Kel shook her head but kept her voice low. "Adie, if he's that hidebound, just flip him over one night and keep going. And give him a shunga manual with a promise to try anything that intrigues him."

"Flip him … easier said than done, Kel." It didn't seem to have occurred to Adie that physical strength had practical uses beyond being able to move in full armour and endurance in the field. "But a shunga manual … huh."

Ilane had drifted up behind them, to lay a hand on Kel's and Orie's shoulders. "However do you know about shunga manuals, Adie? They shocked even your father, and I never dared give you any."

"You should have kept me away from Yuki and Shinko then, Mama." Kel smiled up at her mother despite her embarrassment. "I knew about them long before I understood them. And if you have any stashed away it's time to give them to these two to pass on to Merovec and Ortien."

"Really? I thought we'd had this talk, but if Kel says so …"

Ilane commandeered her elder daughters, not that they needed much commandeering, and Kel was left to welcome a hovering Anders and Lachran for a different kind of family heart-to-heart about his training as a squire and what might benefit it.

Kel was increasingly convinced that Mandrinal, the shrewd and affable senior royal clerk the King had loaned her to help establish New Hope's secretariat, secretly spent his nights manufacturing paperwork to oppress her. Clearing her desk, or even making visible progress, seemed to be impossible, and this morning the piles were once again far higher than she had left them. Unfortunately, not even she could blame Mandrinal for the stack of complaints about Dragon Apprentice Longtail skimming less than ten feet above a local wagon train hauling in firewood, whose mules and drivers had not appreciated the experience. And the pile of private correspondence presorted by Heliana, on which Ebony and Button were resting, said a courier had come in overnight : keeping the road open for wagon trains all winter was beyond even New Hope while the heavy snow lay, but it could be and was kept open for ordinary travellers, and the

result was couriers bringing yet more blessed paperwork.

Nor did having her family still largely resident help Kel to put in the office hours she knew she should. It was delightful and distracting, and filled her guest rooms with excitable nieces and nephews to whom Aunt Kel had always been an intriguing, much discussed absence and who was now proving as fascinating as they had imagined. Talking to them was quite entertaining when it wasn't embarrassing or mystifying, but their appetites for diversion were as insatiable as those of Kel's sisters for gossip, and her in-laws' for political tidbits, and she had found herself very grateful that the heat and light from the great dragonsign on the fin kept the lawn, and even the green, both free of snow and dry enough for children — and younglings of all kinds — to run and play. The residual glow and the icelights everywhere also made play safe much later than winter evenings usually allowed. It might be noisy but it was a useful outlet for excess energy, and educational besides, not to mention healthy. Unfortunately, it didn't work for their parents, and though it had been moving as well as interesting to reconnect with siblings and get to know spouses better, that had also eaten time the fief demanded.

Midwinter celebrations had also taken up more days than they might. How it came about that New Hope's festivities now ended with a Countess's Ball Kel wasn't entirely sure, but Heliana and others had been positively eager to organise it and a surprising number of people from other parts of her fief willing to slog through snow to attend. And she had to admit that the sight of former convicts' families — most quite newly arrived, very much in their best, and stiff with uncertainty

— mingling with her fief's emergent élite had been good to see ; the presence of resident and Guild-affiliated immortals had also lent a certain wonder to proceedings she'd enjoyed, particularly Kitten lighting the fires and Quenuresh's illusion show. More seriously, with her parents present a good deal of useful diplomacy had occurred amid dancing and feasting, involving merchants from Bearsford and Riversedge, assorted Scanrans, and the many foreign mages and immortals who'd already come to study with the Guild and see what was true amid the tall tales that had spread. As they included a Carthaki red robe sent by Emperor Kaddar, a Copper Isles kudarung, and a Gallan unicorn — both immortals needing Quenuresh or an older dragon to translate for them — some of it had become quite laborious, but at least one contract for the unicorn's kin to clean two polluted wells in Carthak and another for some of Bearsford's excellent smoked meats to go to expanding settlements in Scanra had been signed, so Kel wasn't repining.

And then there was the minor consideration that being nearly a week overdue to deliver twins who were undoubtedly lively and to Kel seemed simply enormous made her thoroughly cranky and disinclined to do paperwork in the first place. She shifted her bulk to ease her back and scowled at the ornate letter she was reading, which somehow managed to mix an oily obsequiousness with impertinent demands.

"Mandrinal, do the Glassblowers' Guild have a leg to stand on, legally?"

"Ah, that depends, Lady Kel. The Craftsbeings' Guild has by royal fiat a monopoly on immortal production, but the Glassblowers have by custom and in some respects law a monopoly on glass. A ruling will be needed."

Kel scowled some more, but this might matter a good deal. "Right."

Mandrinal waggled a hand gently. "I'm not surprised the question's come up, but I am that they've approached us directly to make what amounts to a demand. All else aside, they're challenging a royal decree, but don't seem even to have copied their letter to the Palace, which is … lax of them."

Kel nodded. "I noticed that." She drummed her fingers and saw Dom look sympathetic where he was making visible progress with his own, more military paperwork, while Ebony and Button perked up attentively at her tone. "Reply to them asserting our rights by that decree, please, and

point out that honouring agreements with immortals is of a different order than protecting anyone's monopoly. You could add that we're supplying a new market, not competing in their established ones, because the north has very little glass to begin with, thanks mostly to their prohibitive pricing, downright greed, and … regrettably narrow-minded inertia in recent decades." Mandrinal grinned, making it much harder to dislike him, and so did Dom. "You can tell them we realise clarity is needed, and they can send a delegation whenever they like to talk about it. Copy the Palace, with the original. And meanwhile a second letter, to His Grace of Wellam requesting he ask a senior clerk to prepare a comprehensive brief on precedents, and respectfully soliciting his advice."

"I shall be delighted to compose both, my Lady." Mandrinal sounded sincere, and did have a line in dry irony Kel appreciated. "Might I suggest we ask His Grace to extend consideration to centaur and ogre smiths and the Metalworkers' Guild, and to spidrens and the Weavers'? I realise it's awkward with the Metalworkers but it's as well to be beforehand." His smile was at once predatory and austere. "And the awkwardness has a benefit — they're not going to want another confrontation with anyone just yet, let alone you, Lady Kel, and if they settle we'll have a useful precedent."

"Oh that's excellent, Mandrinal." Dom was grinning. "We might even be able to push them into working properly with the condemned."

Dom had taken an understandably keen interest in the penalties Kel had had the King impose on the traitors convicted of aiding and colluding with Maggur, and their required quest for replacement arms and legs, hands and feet, lost to the killing devices they'd helped make, was being watched by many veterans. The King had converted a small royal farm in the Corus hinterland to house the project and confine the condemned, and visits by those veterans, standing on peglegs and sporting hooks or empty sleeves, were by all accounts producing some genuinely shamed application from some among the prisoners. But the Metalworkers' Guild, in which a dozen of them had held senior rank, and whose leadership had undergone considerable and rapid turnover under very angry royal eyes, had not yet had the political sense to throw its weight behind the project, preferring to pretend its former members had vanished into thin air as if they and their treasons had never been. It was disappointing as well as foolish, and Kel didn't need Dom's remark and Ebony's interested squeak to tell her Mandrinal's sly suggestion was a good one.

"Alright, yes — all of that, Mandrinal. And thank you — that's useful thinking." Kel quirked an eyebrow. "While you're in the mood, any idea what I should do about Longtail? He's not usually so irresponsible, but though I'm not unduly worried about the drivers, those mules have a point."

Mandrinal was concealing a grin ; Dom didn't bother.

"Only you, Kel love. But I don't think Longtail's the problem — he was quite apologetic when Kawit reprimanded him, according to Scamp. He was set on."

"Set on? By … no, don't tell me. Junior."

"In one."

"Little monster." Kel huffed only half-amused exasperation. "Diamondflame told him off for dangerous flying so now he does it by proxy. Would you be delighted to compose a letter to his parents too, Mandrinal?" The bureaucrat shuffled, looking … horrified, actually, and Kel's amusement suddenly bubbled. "Tell you what — on top of whatever punishment Kawit imposes as Dean, next time Lord Weiryn's here I'm going to ask him to talk to the mule gods and have them pay Junior a visit."

Dom laughed and Kel grinned back. "Maybe they're too stubborn to show up, but that I'd pay to see." He still looked at her with wonder beyond lust in his eyes too often for Kel's comfort, but he had — perforce — become much more at ease with her tendency to regard gods as one more command resource that ought to prove itself worth its feed. "Come to think of it, are there mule gods? Wouldn't it be horse and donkey gods?"

Kel frowned. "I've no idea. Ebony, do you know?"

The darking seemed to consider. "Older darking once saw stripy horse gods. Not know about mule gods."

"Stripy horses? Goddess, I wonder what those are. Daine might know if you show her." Kel brightened, straightening to ease her back. "Maybe the Horse Lords do the job for mules as well. Chavi West-Wind might oblige. Onua Chamtong says she's the best of them with children."

Mandrinal looked fascinated and Dom suppressed another laugh.

"Peachblossom could stand in."

Kel shook her head gloomily. "Won't work. He and Junior are old antagonists. It'd be like the crusty uncle saying 'Don't do that'. Junior wouldn't take a blind bit of notice. What we need is the griffin version of Diamondflame."

Dom's laugh exploded. "No we don't. Mithros! Wouldn't that be something? Let's find out about mule gods first." He grinned. "If there aren't any there should at least be a First Mule, from what Daine and Numair say."

"That's a thought. Or we could try petrified shackles, I suppose, and ground him for a week — even Junior shouldn't be able to rust those."

This gratifying line of thought was interrupted by the chime of a spellmirror next door and the murmuring voice of the duty mage. A moment later Varik appeared in the doorway.

"His Majesty asks to speak to you both, Lady Kel, Cap'n Dom."

"Did he say why?" Kel was already hauling herself upright while Ebony rolled up her arm and Button leaped to Dom's shoulder.

"Only that it was urgent but not an emergency."

"Oh. Good."

The spellmirrors were in an office of their own in case privacy were needed. Late in the autumn Numair had with help from Harailt and Kawit succeeded in extending the range of the mirrorspell, so Corus and the north were now in direct contact without needing mages powerful enough to firespeak over such distance, though not as yet Corus and Hamrkeng, Heian-Kyó, Carthak, or Rajmuat. It was of course very useful if also potentially a burden, though to be fair the King had so far been circumspect, neither intruding without real purpose nor presuming on his overlordship ; Thayet called more often, usually to talk enthusiastically about the Protector's Maids, defence classes, and spreading icelights rather than anything more official, though plans for investments in the lower city had come up. The King looked relaxed but thoughtful, and had before him a large, elaborate scroll with seals Kel recognised as those of His Imperial Majesty.

"Keladry, Domitan." He peered. "And Ebony, Button. You're all well? And still not delivered, I see, Keladry."

"We are, sire, thank you. And plainly not. Neal predicted I'd be late — he said the twins wouldn't fancy exchanging warm comfort for a world full of snow, and said he wouldn't blame them. So did Yuki." She wished her friends were here, but it had been long past time they spent a Midwinter at Queenscove. "I feel less charitable about it myself."

Those blue Conté eyes could twinkle disarmingly. "I imagine you do. And all's well with New Hope?"

"More or less. We're busy today with Junior daring Longtail to scare a week's eating off a whole train of mules, and shaping up with the Glassblowers' Guild in ways you'll hear about before too long, if you haven't already."

Jonathan's grin faded. "The Glassblowers? Oh, because of immortal glass, I suppose? They wrote to you directly?"

"They did. Mandrinal's composing a reply that will be copied to the Palace, and writing to Duke Turomot, so we're well enough." The King's grin returned, though his eyes promised words for the Glassblowers about royal protocol. "And you and Her Majesty?"

"All the better for seeing you, Kel." Thayet slipped onto the seat beside her husband. "My commiserations on your extended wait — Lianne was ten days overdue and I can still remember how grumpy it made me. Jon can too, I expect." She gave Dom a warm smile. "We're sorry to interrupt your day but as you can see we've had a most imperial scroll, and its contents are somewhat unexpected."

"Oh? How so?"

"Are your parents about? We were hoping to talk to them as well."

"They've ridden over to Haven, but won't be long, I shouldn't think. It's clear and bright but very cold."

"Mmm. Well, tell them as soon as possible, please, and ask Piers to use the mirror." Jonathan sat back. "You know a full state visit to Yaman is on the cards, but I'd been thinking about next year. The Emperor, however, invites us to be present at the dedication in, um, Edo of a new temple to

Lord Sakuyo. On April 1st."

"They've finished it already? That's fast work."

"Yes, apparently. Or they will. His Imperial Majesty said in a covering note you'd know about it."

Kel nodded. "So do you, sire. It's the one Geraint-sensei was called to design, and basilisks and ogres went to help. A Guild contract, in fact."

"Ah. Yes, vaguely. And how did Edo know about Geraint-sensei?"

"Because Lord Sakuyo liked what he did here and told them." She frowned. "I'm not sure how, exactly, but it had them writing an imploring letter in double-quick time."

"Lord Sakuyo commissioned … caused to be commissioned … a Tortallan architect for his new temple?"

The King looked genuinely surprised and Kel shook her head.

"Yes, sire. I did tell you."

His expression was complex, as was Thayet's. "I'm sure you did, Keladry. I expect I lost track amid all the other wonders you explained." Royal fingers drummed. "In that case, I take it you think I should accept the Emperor's invitation to up sticks at very little notice and sail for Yaman with Thayet, Roald, Shinkokami, Sir Nealan and Lady Yukimi, you two, and your parents?"

Kel's mind whirled and she sat forward as best she could, seeing her seriousness register with both royals and Dom's look of alarm. "If His Imperial Majesty has extended a formal invitation to all of us by name, then absolutely, yes — no question at all, and Papa will tell you the same. All else aside, if he's invited an official Tortallan and mixed-marriage party to the dedication, he's putting face on the line and requesting support by the treaty embodied in Roald's and Cricket's union. And if Lord Sakuyo's new temple is being dedicated on his day, I'd think the odds he won't show up are very long indeed. You should no more refuse this than you would a formal liege request."

"Easy, Keladry." Jonathan's smile didn't lack humour. "I'd more or less come to that conclusion, on the political side at least. It was Lord Sakuyo I wanted your advice about, mostly."

"Huh." Kel thought. "I'm very cautious about trying to guess that sort of thing, sire." "That'll be a change." Jonathan and Thayet both grinned, and Kel scowled.

"Tchaa. He is, as Cricket says, a most wonderful god, and entirely a trickster. Who knows what he might have up his sleeves?" Kel's face scrunched as she concentrated. "But there is this, maybe. Cricket might know better, but as I understand it Lord Sakuyo's repeated blessings of New Hope have impressed most people into agreeing the Tortallan treaty was right. The treaty with the Council of Ten about raiding we sponsored must have helped too. But as we're gaijin, foreigners with strange looks and habits, not all, I'm sure, and His Imperial Majesty may have some nobles or kamunushi, priests, causing trouble. And …" They all waited out her silence. "Prince Eitaro became one of Sakuyo's Blessed here, of course, but the package of duplicate paintings was addressed to 'my son', so His Imperial Majesty got some blessing too. Still, the imbalance may be a problem, and I rather suspect some Sakuyan laughter in Yaman is even more overdue than I am." Shrewd hazel eyes met the King's. "And should His Imperial Majesty himself become one of Sakuyo's Blessed amid such a crowd as this dedication will attract, sire, it would give him the kind of boost that dining with Lord Mithros gave you. It might matter a great deal that we're all there."

To Kel's surprise it was Thayet who sat forward. "Right you are, Kel — we hear you. But is it realistic for you to travel so soon? With six-week-old twins you'll certainly need support."

Dom was nodding forcefully. "Just so, Your Majesty. Kel, we can't go tearing off with them that soon."

"Why not? Assuming they're alright, and I'm alright, we just pack them too, don't we? My Mama did when we were small."

"You were four, not newborn."

"So they'll be precocious. Sounds right."

Dom looked mulish but Thayet smiled.

"What I was going to say, Kel, was that if you're willing, you'll certainly need a wetnurse and a caremaid for them. Shinko will need staff as well for Faran, and Yuki for Ryokel."

The new Prince was only six months old. "It's a kind thought, Thayet. A caremaid, maybe. But I'll be nursing them myself."

"With diplomatic assignments?" The Queen sounded dubious. "It'll be a difficult burden to manage."

"Not in Yaman. Noble mothers are expected to nurse and do whatever else they ought to be doing, so there are feeding rooms available in the palace, and in temples."

"Really? Shinko said something about that but it sounded too good to be true."

"No, it's standard there. And Yuki hasn't fully weaned Ryokel yet, so it won't just be Cricket and me. If we make sure His Imperial Majesty knows the three of us are nursing he'll take it in his stride, and note how we all behaved very properly in answering his summons despite the inconvenience."

Thayet laughed, though the King and Dom were slightly cross-eyed.

"Alright, Kel, if you say so. And please do let me provide the staff you'll need — unless you already have people in mind?" Kel didn't and said so. "Fine. Now, there's two other things. First, it should be a five- or six-day voyage. Is leaving Port Caynn in mid-month — for the ides of March, say — good enough? We do have commitments here."

"Mmm. Make it a week earlier, if you can — by the nones. Edo's three days' ride at least from Heian-Kyó, and His Imperial Majesty will want to welcome you properly in the capital."

Jonathan smiled sharply. "And you, Keladry, I'd think."

Kel squirmed slightly. "Maybe. But the week before Sakuyo's day is full of people planning tricks. There's a danger of being tricked oneself, or being made a pawn in someone's jest — but His Imperial Majesty may want or need us as … I don't know, castles in some trick of his own."

"Huh." Both royals looked thoughtful, but it was again Thayet who spoke. "Should we be looking to play tricks?"

"Oh yes." Kel smiled, ignoring the King's alarmed look. "But the limits will take some pondering. Ask Papa. And Cricket. But don't listen to George — the Crooked God's sense of humour is as thin as the Hag's. Lord Sakuyo's is … older, I think. More patient and refined, certainly."

Jonathan's eyes were still crossed but Thayet smiled. "Alright, Kel — that made sense, I think. While you were speaking, at least. And we can sail by the nones of March if we hustle. Will you and your parents do the same, from Mindelan? Good. Before we come to the second thing, who else should we take, if anyone?"

Kel pondered. "His Imperial Majesty didn't mention Daine or Numair? Or Duke Gareth? Alanna?"

"No, none of them."

"Mmm. He'll know you need to leave competent cover behind. Still, he'll know Alanna's still in Rajmuat, but if she's willing and you don't think Duke Gareth will need her, it might be an idea. Her legend reached Yaman long ago."

"And yours more recently, Keladry." Jonathan was serious. "Alanna's temper is on a short leash at the best of times, and she doesn't like tricks at all."

"Oh piffle." Kel snorted. "She doesn't like Kyprioth because of what he did to Aly, but she swallowed real hostility in Carthak when she had to, if Daine and Numair have it right. And she has a better sense of divine humour than you do, sire, if you'll forgive me saying so."

The King scowled but Thayet laughed. "Point, Kel. A definite point, and you know it, love. What else, Kel?"

Kel shrugged. "Yuki will need to show Neal off to her cousins, and his fabled knight-mistress could help there. Shinko too, with Roald, in some measure — you should let them borrow you as props, and that might be easier with Alanna around as your Champion to deputise. And my parents will have things they ought to do. What you should do if you don't want to be swamped meeting powerful bureaucrats for a lot of pointless bowing is to develop your own agenda — a visit to the Temple District in Heian-Kyó and its Mithran shrine, say. I'll be visiting the Black God's shrine, and Lord Sakuyo's First Temple. The swords of law and duty that Mama saved aren't far outside the city, either — talk to her about that." Jonathan was scribbling notes, to Kel's amusement and, she saw, Dom's. "If Queen Dovasary's already sent an ambassador, there'd be that too." She hesitated. "Did His Imperial Majesty say anything about immortals?"

Thayet half-smiled, then frowned. "You always give him his full dignities, Kel. Is he never informal? Shinko confused me, rather, when I asked."

"See what he does, and wait to be invited to any relaxation of protocol." Kel was definite. "Formality and face matter five times more in Yaman. They're perfectly aware of the gap between form and substance but much less prone to excuses and indulgence. And to start with, the fullest fig all round. But this is Mama's and Papa's business."

"And we'll be speaking to them as soon as they call us, Keladry." Jonathan's smile was tight. "Though these days I wouldn't be surprised if they referred us back to you." He waved away her indignant look. "I'm not just teasing. The second thing is that in your case, specifically, His Imperial Majesty says you can — and we wondered if that meant should — bring, I quote, 'such companions as she may wish'. Does that mean immortals?"

Kel sat back, contemplating her mountainous belly. "Probably. But they've got their treaty with the Wangetsushima spidrens, and New Hope basilisks and ogres are there, so there's no real reason for more of them. Has Shinko received any guidance on what her uncle means?"

Thayet shook her head. "She says not, and there's barely time to ask unless we use magefire."

Kel shook her head. "Don't bother. If he's said nothing to Cricket it's dragons. And that's complicated, because the apprentices can't leave the fief without the permission of the Dragonmeet."

The King was frowning. "Why should His Imperial Majesty want dragons especially?"

"I'll bet it's Prince Eitaro, again. Hemet Diamondflame as well as Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, and became one of Lord Sakuyo's Blessed, and saw Drachifethe, and even with Takemahou-sensei and Lord Kiyomori to back him up there'll have been people who had a fit of eye-rolling at all or any of that news. They might genuinely disbelieve him, or think it must have been some gaijin trick — it all sounds so improbable when no dragon's been seen in the Islands in the Human Era. And falling foul of the Emperor is colloquially known as being burned by the dragon."

"Is it now?" Kel could almost hear the King thinking. "Thank you, that helps. Two questions, then — are you willing to seek permission from the Dragonmeet? And if so, on behalf of which dragons?"

"Now there's a puzzle." Kel linked hands over belly and pondered. "What's really wanted is probably Diamondflame dropping in, but I doubt any adult dragon would be willing to participate in mortal politics like that without a pressing reason. Kawit would be a possibility, and might

enjoy Yaman, if she thinks Denon can keep the older apprentices in line." Numair had suggested the blond mage as Kawit's deputy, and he seemed up to the job. "Kitten has a claim as Journeydragon, and wouldn't need the permission of the Dragonmeet. Her size and age might be the right kind of joke, too … mmm … I'll have to think about it, sire, but I wonder if a small Guild delegation that brought along some younglings for the experience might be the thing — St'aara and Kuriaju, say, with Kitten, Amiir'aan, one of the ogre lads, maybe Amourta, if Cloestra's willing."

"Numbers rather than bulk?" Jonathan was smiling.

"Sort of, but Cloestra's as Yamani as any stormwing I know gets, and it would be a reminder it's the young who matter in this. I'll talk to them."

"Please do, Keladry, as soon as may be." Jonathan became brisk. "In any case, please send us a briefing on Lord Sakuyo, Geraint, and this temple, with the agenda you were suggesting. And your own as well, as one of Sakuyo's Blessed, a sensei of the naginata, and as Protector, I suppose, if that's relevant. We'll be talking again before March, often, I imagine, but until then …"

He and Thayet raised hands in farewell and the spellmirror blanked, leaving Kel half-indignant and Dom half-amused.

"Looks like we're bound for the Islands sooner than we'd thought, love. At least you get to leave the paperwork behind for a bit."

Kel tried to glare but her heart wasn't in it — she was too excited by intertwined thoughts of seeing Yaman again, showing it to Dom, and, she was deadly sure, somehow serving Lord Sakuyo. There was another odd sensation as well. "Well, there's that, I suppose. But just now I think you should send for the midwife. I believe my waters are breaking."


	37. Chapter 37

Yaman

Two : Yaman

Heian-Kyó, 21–22 March

Kel had wondered if the ancient imperial capital would seem less impressive to adult senses than it had to a child's, but it was every bit as striking as she remembered and Tortallans seeing it for the first time were gratifyingly astonished. Tobe was speechless, and even Neal, who had been teasing Yuki by doing his best to seem unimpressed, was heard to whistle softly. Built in a perfect, symmetrical grid in a wide valley surrounded by peaks, where three swift rivers joined to settle into a broad, navigable waterway, Heian-Kyó was dominated by the enormous Palace Compound at the northern end of the great central thoroughfare, the clustering ministries of the Emperor's Right and Left Hands that flanked it, and the extensive Temple District on the west side ; to the south a thriving mercantile city extended east to the major confluence, and busy wharves lined the river banks. In a very Yamani way the architecture was, while always functional, uniform, the houses of particular heights, and palace, pagoda temples, and warehouses showing the same steeply raked tile rooves that gleamed dark reds and greens in the spring sunshine. And though the flowering trees were only just beginning to think of blossoming, their glory several weeks away, the groves around the city and the crowns of those in the parks deepened the sense of a very different order than Tortall's.

Thanks to a cunning system of gated side-channels that Kel had quite forgotten, but set her to thinking furiously about the Vassa, the River Yodo was navigable from the major confluence to the sea, more than twenty miles away. Prince Eitaro had met them at the port with all due ceremony — hours of it — but also a personal warmth for Tortallans with whom he was by now well acquainted, expressed to Kel and her parents in a surprisingly public use of imperial-to-friend that gave them no choice but to use its reciprocal. With massed baggage despatched by cart, they had transferred with Jonathan's and Thayet's honour guard to an enormous river-barge that Alanna, as sea-sick as any mortal could be, had eyed with pale loathing, but it had proven a kind enough ride that even she had mostly recovered by the time Heian-Kyó came in sight. All the other first-time visitors, including the royals, Neal, and immortals with the Guild party — officially a delegation to confirm the satisfactory completion of the temple contract — had been fascinated by the flooded rice-fields on either side, worked by wide-hatted men and women, the different vegetation of the islands, and the high-arched bridges under which the barge and its escorts were carefully manoeuvred. The gated channels had allowed them to bypass two short sets of rapids and rise with the land, leaving Kel and her parents, with Yuki and Shinko, to manage a variety of rather charged conversations with Prince Eitaro and senior members of his retinue.

Matters were, to say the least, tenser than even her Papa had quite understood. There had been a certain amount of scepticism, not to say outright disbelief, about events reported from New Hope, and as that implicitly called Prince Eitaro, as well as Takemahou-sensei and Lord Kiyomuri, either fools or knaves the lines dividing understandable surprise, problematic insult, and incipient treason were distinctly thin. But beyond that a perennial problem of Yamani politics had twined about the matter like bindweed, as the Prince had admitted.

"It would all be a typhoon in a teapot, Keladry-sensei, were it not for Lord Fujiwara." He had visibly scowled as he spoke the name, for a Yamani the equivalent of many blunt epithets. "His ambitions and his marriage-ties with my cousins on both sides have always made him a dangerous man to oppose, even for His Imperial Majesty, and since he learned you had all been invited he has chosen — twice, in public — to express his disinclination to believe in what he has not himself seen. Last time, at a secondary feast for the Emperor's birthday, a young kamunushi of

Lord Sakuyo dared ask if he therefore doubted the existence of the gods. Lord Fujiwara was by all accounts less than amused, and the poor man was found strangled a few nights later."

All the listening Tortallans had winced. The killing of any priest was a matter of serious concern, and they all knew the Fujiwaras were potentially a very real threat to Imperial power. For many generations the powerful and usually shrewd lords of the great western clan had aspired not to take the throne but to be the power behind it, and it was only in the last two that the Nakuji emperors had pushed back with any success. His Imperial Majesty's father had nearly precipitated a civil war by marrying to suit himself, declining the bride Fujiwaras favoured, and subsequently spent much of his long reign chipping at the clan's entrenched influence ; his elder son had extended the policy and, like Prince Eitaro, without the influence of a Fujiwara mother to sway him had also chosen to avoid a Fujiwara mother-in-law. The present Lord Fujiwara's son still held a Ministry of the lesser, Right Hand, but the clan was now excluded from those of the dominant Left and from the Governorships of all but their own province and its immediate neighbour, and were apparently finding the restrictions ever more irksome.

"Nothing could be proved, of course, and we cannot risk making a martyr of him. He is looking to embarrass us somehow, we think, and so to discredit the treaties with both spidrens and Tortall."

Kel had nodded but new priorities had been crystallising in her mind. "May I ask what he believes about immortals, my Prince? Might he offer harm to any under my protection?"

To her dismay he had only shrugged.

"They are under His Imperial Majesty's protection also, Keladry-sensei, as are the basilisks and ogres in Edo, so I would like to say no, of course not. But Michizane noh Fujiwara is not to be trusted in anything, and has said that where one dragon was an illusion, none can say others were not. He has also strongly criticised the kamunushi at Edo for allowing — forgive me — gaijin and beasts to design their new temple. And he has openly doubted that those astonishing paintings are by Lord Sakuyo. It is a poor hospitality, I know, but I fear you and the Guild delegation must be on guard." He had brightened. "But you will have samurai, of course, and newly recruited spidrens from Wangetsushima. Michizane disapproves of them too, needless to say, but that does not make them any less formidable."

Kel imagined not, inwardly shuddering even though it had been her idea, but remained extremely disturbed and had had a long conversation with the adults in the Guild delegation — St'aara and Var'istaan, Kuriaju, and a spotlessly clean Cloestra — and with Tobe and other younglings — Kitten, Ventriaju, Amiir'aan, and Amourta. She half-regretted that Irnai had chosen not to come, deciding she'd had enough travelling for a while, but was also grateful that she at least was not in harm's way ; and altogether regretted that Jump and the sparrows had also declined, Jump feeling he should stay with Peachblossom and the sparrows thinking an ocean voyage altogether unnatural.

"We don't want any trouble, of course, and hope there'll be none, but there's a more serious threat than anyone realised." Her account of Yamani politics and the threat of the Fujiwara clan had been stripped down for clarity but was supplemented by her parents, Shinko and Yuki, and even once or twice by an intrigued Prince Eitaro, listening with Jonathan, Thayet, Alanna, Dom, and Neal. Then Kel had shrugged eloquently, steel coming into her voice. "But for all these complicated mortal politics, the rule is simple. So long as it's just words you should all smile politely, and younglings, refer anyone who pushes it to the nearest adult, of any kind. But if there's a physical threat — a sword drawn or an arrow nocked, or a mage summoning power — then your first and only job is to protect yourselves and your fellows, and you do whatever it takes. You all have full diplomatic status, and I trust every one of your judgements, so if the threat is real and unavoidable, you go right ahead."

No-one was happy at the prospect but the adults had nodded, taking their own young aside for council and reassurance, while Kel herself tried to do as much for Tobe and Kitten. When Prince Eitaro had hesitantly enquired if young immortals were truly as able as their elders to kill Kel had nodded sharply.

"Be sure of it, my Prince. Lady Skysong could not produce as much dragonfire as Lord Diamondflame, nor for as long, but it takes very little to consume a man. Ventriaju helped kill a giant with his sling, a petrified chest is quite as fatal as a petrified body, and Amourta's wings are no blunter for being small. I don't want any of them taking life — they are far younger in terms of their kinds even than I am in mortal ones — but they are quite capable and I meant every word."

The Prince had frowned but nodded sadly. "I understand, Keladry-sensei. Yet mortal deaths at immortal hands would be more than unfortunate."

"Believe me, my Prince, not so unfortunate as any immortal deaths or injuries at treacherous mortal ones. But if you'll excuse me, I think the twins are waking."

Kel's and Dom's son and daughter had not yet had formal namedays — those awaited Samradh at New Hope, amid excited bets about who might attend — but they had agreed the boy would be Merric and the girl Lalasa, and they had already brought their parents more joy and broken nights than could readily be measured. Their delivery, amid a strong sense of the Green Lady's reassuring presence, has been in the midwife's view astonishingly easy, though Kel had had some choice words about that characterisation of the process ; and nursing them, if sometimes inconvenient and requiring averted gazes, had proven not only a heart-deep satisfaction and pleasure but a transcendent solace for the burden of killing she still felt. Retiring from the Prince's presence to the feeding-room provided even on the barge, Kel had lost herself in the satisfaction of giving suck and the deftness with which she had learned to cradle one at each breast, swapping them over when they fussed, until she had been recalled by a troubled enquiry from Kitten. The dragonet usually had a reptile's fascination with nursing as well as sharing Kel's pleasure in the nurture of the young, but the gravity of Kel's earlier warnings and advice had perturbed her.

Harming mortals or the People was the thing grandsire spoke most strictly about when he taught me the fire spell.

"I know, Kit, but he taught you mostly because he knew you might need it — really need it — one day. And you know he fought with us during the Immortals War, burning that invasion fleet."

Kitten swished her tail. I suppose so. But the idea of burning someone does not seem right.

"That's because it isn't, but even so it's better than you being hurt, just as using your grandsire's gift was better than having Maggur take New Hope. The mortal realms are muddled, and sometimes we have to choose the lesser wrong. Have you talked to Var'istaan? He petrified a giant so he'll understand what you're feeling."

The dragonet gave a melancholy chirp. That is a good idea, and the basilisks are always helpful. I will do so. She lacked her usual bounce going out, and Dom, coming the other way, looked after her, then at Kel with an enquiring look.

"Is she worried about this Fujiwara fellow?"

"Not him so much as having to use fire against anyone."

"Ah. Well, we all have to face what defending ourselves can mean sooner or later." He sighed. "I'd hoped we were done with that sort of thing for a bit, though. And she's very young for it."

"Older than I was." Kel had first killed men when she was twelve, and Kitten was now fifteen. Dom grimaced an apology and she smiled at him. "But she isn't training to be a knight, and she is young. I don't think it's just killing, though, Dom — it's using dragonfire to kill. Diamondflame seems to have been pretty inhibiting when he taught her the spell. Sensibly enough."

They had both seen what dragonfire did to flesh and bone, and he nodded, eyes dark.

"Gods, yes. Do you really think someone will try violence, love? Wouldn't it force the emperor to act against them?"

Kel shrugged. "I'd think so. But that's why I was worried about the immortals. I thought making it mostly younglings would be a way to satisfy curiosity and dispel doubts without the kind of reactions Quenuresh or Kawit tend to produce, but I realise too late it might also make people underestimate the threat. The Yamanis haven't had much experience of immortals except spidrens and a pair of griffins in the mountains above the Palace, and the Fujiwaras have been being pushed into a corner for a long time." She waggled a hand. "Even so, open violence seems unlikely. But … I don't know, some attempt at humiliation dressed up as a Sakuyan trick could be a strong public slap at His Imperial Majesty."

"Well, we'll have to be careful, love. Are Merric and Lalasa done stuffing themselves? I came to say the city's coming into sight."

"I think so."

Both babes were still going through the motions but no more, and made only token protests when Dom called the chief caremaid, Annila, to take them back. Kel refastened her tunic, thinking Thayet had been wise to insist on a nursery staff ; night feeds meant she wasn't getting more than three or four hours sleep at a stretch, but with the Guild delegation to mind and now the distracting prospect of Fujiwara plots it was a blessing not to have to worry about their other ends, nor the paraphernalia required. Just how much room babies seemed to take up was a mystery, but a royal nursery commanded its own space. Stretching and feeling a different pleasure in muscles swiftly returning to proper fitness she hesitated, following a thought, and checking that Annila was out of earshot spoke to the broad piping on her collar.

"Ebony, would you please summarise what we've just learned, and my talk with Kit, and make sure Lord Diamondflame or Lord Rainbow are told as soon as may be? Not just a watchdragon. And ask them, if I do my best with the mortal end, will they keep an eye on the other one?"

"Yes. Not fun?"

"Fun and not fun, I think. Lord Sakuyo's a lot nicer than Kyprioth, but still."

"Dragons right. Gods annoying."

"Often enough." Dom was giving her that look again. "What?"

"Just trying to keep up, love. What are you thinking?"

"That I'm glad we could indulge the darkings' love of secrecy by keeping their presence quiet." Dom had Button, and Var'istaan Shale, and while Kel was sure Jonathan and Thayet suspected it nothing was even remotely official. "And that Lord Sakuyo's on a roll. I don't distrust him, but he is a god and Kit's in my care. So — a heads-up disguised as courteous reporting."

"Sneaky and honest together. That's my Kel." Dom's voice was as approving as Ebony's interested squeak, and Kel shook her head, wondering at men and darkings as she followed Dom out to the deck.

As the great barge slowly docked, Prince Eitaro and several of his retinue were politely pointing things out to visitors, including immortals, while Cloestra, perched with Amourta on the rail, was commenting in Yamani on changes since she'd last seen the place five or six centuries before, so an amused Kel could stand with Dom and Tobe to watch the vista unfold. And it wasn't just to the eyes — the smells brought a riot of memories, and she inhaled deeply.

"That sharpness under the city smells and the river is pickle markets and warehousing — vinegar, brine, fermented things they use, with sweet fruits and drying fish slivers."

"The fish I'd identified, but not the rest."

Dom's voice was resigned and Kel grinned. "No avoiding raw fish here, fresh or dried."

In the shadow of the long stretch of wharves and warehouses at the south end of the city only the Palace and temple rooves had remained visible over rooftops, but the great central road, Suzaku-oji, led to its own imperial river-gate, the Rajomon, with a wide space on either side through which a vista of the city again appeared, and Dom and Tobe both whistled.

"Mithros! That road must be nearly three hundred feet wide."

One of Prince Eitaro's retinue with good Tortallan was near them, and nodded politely.

"Just so, Blessed Lord. Suzaku-oji is 28 jo from side to side, and one jo is a little less than ten of your feet."

"Thank you." Dom's voice dropped to a murmur for Kel alone. "Wide loads?"

She swallowed a laugh. "No, just aesthetics and politics. If it were narrower the view would be less beautiful and less intimidating. And everything's symmetrical — there are spiritual principles underlying the design I never did understand, though Papa says he grasped them once, for a moment or two."

"Huh. Do you think the King's having visions of widening Palace Way?" "Let's hope not. He'd have to do a lot of demolishing."

Further conversation died as they all contemplated the honour guard emerging to line the wharf — two score imperial samurai in ceremonial armour, and a dozen spidrens wearing helmets and scalemail flanchards, with wicked steel blades — glaive blades, Kel thought, rather than swords

— strapped to their front four legs so they projected up, surrounding every spidren with a deadly steel crown.

"Oh … my." Dom's voice was even lower. "Remind you of anything?"

Kel stilled a grimace, settling her Yamani mask in place. "I know, love. I realised soon after I had the idea they'd look like killing devices, but also that Lord Sakuyo would be amused by it."

"He would?"

"So long as they're fighting for whomever he favours, I'm afraid. File under divine irony."

More theology would have to wait, despite the look on Dom's face, as mooring ropes had been secured and a wide gangplank run out. Protocol being very much in order, Kel, Dom, and Tobe

were behind the royals, Alanna as King's Champion, and her ducal parents, with Neal and Yuki behind them, but as both kinds of samurai formed a flanking guard the senior spidren, with a glance at the samurai officer for permission, came forward and offered Kel one of those strange spidren bows before speaking in a Yamani mode Kel recognised with some surprise as samurai to senior noble.

"You are the one they call the Protector of the Small, my Lady, with whom Quenuresh signed the first treaty?"

Kel nodded. "I am. Forgive my ignorance, sir, but how should I most properly address you?"

The spidren hissed. "No forgiveness is needed, Protector. Quite the opposite. I am Kravimal, and I am bound by my elders and kin to offer you the deep thanks of all spidrens of Wangetsushima. This service to the Emperor buys all of us peace, and our young the expectation of life to enjoy it in. Your name is power among us." He bowed again, before turning to the immortals in line behind Kel and using adult to adult. "Greetings, brethren and sistren. His Imperial Majesty charges me to say that if you have any needs of your kind that are not being met, ask me or any of my troop. And when time comports, if you will, the spidrens of Wangetsushima have a question for the Craftsbeings' Guild of New Hope."

Kel managed to stop blinking and return a grave nod, wondering what that question might be.

"Thank you, Kravimal, and please convey my respects to your elders and kin. Whatever serves order and peace serves us all."

The samurai spidren's gaze was sharp. "It is for the chance to believe it so that we thank you, Protector, and I am honoured as well as ordered to know you. But I cannot dally now."

"Of course. Please carry on."

Ahead of them Prince Eitaro was joining the royals in the first of a string of zagyoshiki state carriages, and as Kel, Dom, and Tobe, with Neal and Yuki, took places in the third she saw that the last looked to have been adapted and strengthened. Even so, with basilisks and ogres aboard it sat low on its springs, and the beautifully matched horses huffed as they got it rolling. Suzaku-oji was lined with crowds, respectfully silent in the Yamani way but densely packed and stretching away down every cross-street, clearly curious to see the gaijin royals to whom the Emperor was now related by blood. Though she was facing forwards a murmuring swell from behind told her they must also be wide-eyed at the Guild delegation, and she was all too aware of the intense stares that came her own way, wondering — not for the first time — what unholy compound Yamanis had made of stories they'd heard about her and New Hope. A Blessed gaijin sensei of the naginata would be fodder for wild gossip, however she wished it otherwise, and Lord Sakuyo's paintings and paragraph would not have helped — but she didn't know how widely those might have been seen by ordinary folk, nor what any kamunushi had been saying. But doubtless she'd find out soon enough, and Dom had become quite tense beside her. She slid a hand into his.

"Worried about the language?"

He shrugged slightly. "Not so much, love. You've been a ruthless teacher, and I'll just make sure I'm standing beside Neal so my accent sounds better than it is."

"Oy!"

Neal's protest made Yuki roll her eyes, and Kel grinned.

"What, then? The politics?""

"Sort of. I know silence is thought proper here, but this crowd feels odd to me, over and above face-paint and gawping. Something's ringing my old sergeant's alarm bells."

"Huh." Kel considered. Dom had been a very good sergeant. "All the commoners pushed back? Or symmetry? The front rows are bureaucrats and priests with their wives — the colours tell you which ministry or god, and belt-knots show rank. There were richer merchants back by the gate, but they thinned out fast — the city's dominated by civil and divine governance and there will have been plenty of petty politics about precedence, I bet."

"Yes, maybe. That's some of it, anyway. But something feels like a threat, and I'm less surprised Prince Eitaro was afraid there'd be trouble, love. We're walking into a hornet's nest."

That was nothing but true, Kel reflected — and a far bigger nest than she'd foreseen ; he was right there were was a tension in the crowds that shouldn't attend visiting allies, even with immortals involved. And if a part of her was whispering that she was a lake, that calmness was always better, especially in Yaman, and that not even Michizane noh Fujiwara could seriously mean to harm imperial guests, a familiar anger was beginning to glow. Politics was politics, and people would mess with them, hoping for advantage, but if it threatened younglings in her charge, well, the Black God was always open for business. And while Lord Sakuyo might, given the kind of jesting he must have in mind, use such anger despite her resentment, and the gods gave no guarantees, she trusted him more than most. A decision crystallised.

"I think we are, love, but I don't believe His Nibs means us to be pushed about by Lord Fujiwara or anyone else. And you know, Yuki, I'm beginning to think there really might be thunder before laughter."

Yuki's face showed tension beneath her white paint, but she nodded, taking a steadying breath. "Certainly, Keladry-chan. What should I do?"

"Who knows until it happens, Yuki? But I can't see he'd need us involved unless he's decided he's had enough of something."

Yuki all but frowned. "You believe Lord Fujiwara is to be rebuked?"

Kel shrugged slightly. "Maybe. It seems he's the problem. But there'll be enough hot needles to go round, I imagine, as well as grace."

Yuki nodded again, and Kel was still pondering that rebuked and the story of the murdered kamunushi when the carriage slowed to pass through the Suzakomon, the Great Jade Gate of the Imperial Compound. To her surprise they didn't stop in the First Square but passed through a further arch into the Second, where the enormous welcoming party, a sea of colourful robes and painted faces, was — she blinked — led by the Emperor himself ; still more astonishingly, he was accompanied by what must be his heir, Prince Taikyuu, about Tobe's age, whom she had last seen wailing in a beautiful and almost certainly very uncomfortable crib. Patricine and Toshuro were there, with her Yamani nephew and nieces, and other faces she recognised, including Keiichi and Takemahou-sensei. Kel could see Cricket speaking swiftly to the other royals, and even as she muttered identifications to Dom and Tobe her brain was spinning with the implications — but of course any real Fujiwara threat to the Emperor would have to be aimed at his independent choice of wife and the heir of that union, and he must have decided he had to confront it directly. Her instinctive rage with any threat to a child kicked up a notch, and she had a fleeting sense of Lord Sakuyo's approval, but the carriage had halted and a footman was kneeling to steady a wooden step by the door he'd opened.

Much as she disliked it, she had precedence in descending, and with a flicker of intuition thanked the kneeling man, though it was against Yamani protocol to notice servants. Dom, Tobe, and Neal saw nothing strange in it, though Yuki's voice had a certain flatness as she followed the lead. The further waiting footmen included two brawny men carrying a perch for Cloestra and Amourta, a thoughtful gesture Kel appreciated, and a quick whisper had a darking message relayed to Var'istaan. A moment later, as their carriage rolled away, she could hear behind her the descending immortals offering their own thanks to their footmen. It was a small thing, and they might have done it anyway, but it felt right. Before her Jonathan and Thayet, having with Roald and Shinko given royal and received imperial greetings, had let her Papa take over introducing others to His Imperial Majesty and Highness.

As she had come directly from the Copper Isles, none of them had had any chance to drill Alanna, whose Yamani remained rudimentary, so necessary translations meant the Emperor's elaborately complimentary welcome (and satisfying the open curiosity of Prince Taikyuu) took a while. It gave Kel a chance to study them carefully : Daichi noh Takuji had inherited later and was more than a decade older than Jonathan, but their eyes had the same look, placed there by the powers they wielded and decisions they had to take. Though hair and eyebrows had silvered and his face was more lined than she remembered, he had kept trim and warrior training could be seen in his movement, even with his gorgeous robes. The Prince also had the look of a lad in regular training, and a kindness in his face Kel suspected his father had had before rule beat it out of him. Widening her attention she became aware of the tensions centred on a square-jawed man in the first rank of courtiers, richly dressed in Fujiwara colours but too young to be Lord Michizane ; one of his sons, probably. The various kamunushi present seemed tense as well, and she was reminded of Lord Kiyomori's unamused earnestness at New Hope. Had all the blessed priests forgotten their own special High One was a trickster, his great voice a boom of laughter? And if that were part of the problem … Her thoughts were recalled by her father's voice.

"My youngest daughter Keladry you will remember, of course, my Emperor, if not her many hard-earned dignities as Lady Knight, Countess of New Hope and Clanchief Hléoburh, Protector of the Small, one of Lord Sakuyo's Blessed, Master of the Craftsbeings' Guild, and — well, there isn't actually a Yamani word, I believe, but if there were it might be Dragontalker. Keladry, His Imperial Majesty and His Imperial Highness."

Gritting her teeth slightly — she'd had words with Papa about his careful coinage, avoiding the pitfall of dragonlord where the dragon was an imperial metaphor — and feeling the Emperor's intent and perhaps anxious gaze settle on her, Kel offered her bow and spoke very formally.

"Your Imperial Majesty, Your Imperial Highness." Both nodded, not speaking. "It is this fortunate one's great honour to see You again, and her pleasure to return to Your realm."

"Blessed Protector-sensei." That was a new one, and Kel had to stop herself blinking as the Emperor's own mouth quirked. "It is a puzzle to know how best to address you. Blessed Prince Eitaro's account of New Hope was altogether remarkable, as were the paintings he brought me."

"The Blessed Prince had the happy fortune to visit at an auspicious time, Your Imperial Majesty, while Lord Sakuyo of course does as he will." The paintings weren't a topic Kel wanted to discuss just yet, if at all. "And this one is remiss in not thanking You personally for the petals of Your blessing on us at New Hope, and for the naginata instructors You sent to assist the pages in training."

The Emperor's gaze was sharp, though his voice was bland. "We could do no less, Blessed, and all admired your haiku."

Her occasional Yamani poetry wasn't a topic Kel wanted to discuss either, and a veiled gaze acknowledged the praise while letting it pass.

"May this fortunate one introduce her husband, Count Domitan of New Hope, Clanchief–Consort Hléoburh, and our adopted son, Tobeis?"

Both managed creditable bows, not that Kel had doubted them, and the Emperor nodded, something in his look suggesting appreciation of her adherence to proper formulae despite the oddity, in Yaman as much as Tortall, of a woman having precedence over her husband.

"Blessed Count Domitan, Blessed Tobeis. It is Our pleasure to welcome you to Our realm, for you too figured largely in Blessed Prince Eitaro's reports. And none could fail to be moved by the rescue of so many children from necromancy." Was that a hesitation? "Prince Taikyuu was interested, and hopes to hear a fuller story than the official report."

Kel thought Dom had understood but was uncertain how to respond, beyond a slight smile and bow of acknowledgement ; Tobe smiled too, mostly at the Prince, and answered cheerfully, basilisk and stormwing drills in the High Mode and the vocabulary he might want showing to advantage.

"It will be this fortunate one's pleasure to tell you, Your Imperial Highness, but it was only what was needed. The High Ones were most wonderfully angry with the necromancer."

It would be beneath the Emperor's dignity to congratulate any gaijin for doing what all obviously should (if few did), but the spark of surprised calculation was visible in his eyes.

"So We understand, Blessed Tobeis. And that you have strong horse-magic as well as a maturity beyond your years."

"This one has that luck, Your Imperial Majesty." Kel, if not the Emperor, saw Tobe's own calculation spin in his eyes, enthusiasm touching his voice. "Your matched pangare bays are beautiful."

"We think so too." It was also beneath an Emperor's dignity to grin, but his voice warmed. "Perhaps Prince Taikyuu can show you the stud, if you are interested."

Prince and Tobe looked equally enthusiastic, but Tobe showed yet more wisdom in answering only with another bow and smile, and the Emperor's gaze came back to Kel, something like approval joining his calculation.

"So one thing at least is settled." His eyes flickered sideways. "And Blessed Lady Yukimi needs no introduction, while We are pleased to see her again."

Though obviously surprised by the deviation from protocol Yuki's curtsey was perfect and Neal's bow acceptable. Kel was nearer than her father, and the Emperor had not dismissed her, so she supposed the introduction fell to her.

"May this one make known to You Blessed Lady Yukimi's husband, Your Imperial Majesty? Blessed Sir Nealan of Queenscove, heir to Blessed Duke Baird." The blizzard of blesseds was absurd, as His Nibs must have realised it would be, but strictly necessary and they were all wearing their jade tokens for more than one good reason.

"Blessed Sir Nealan." This imperial gaze was one she had no difficulty recognising, Kel realised

— royal survey of a known quantity now met in person — and the contrast clarified her sense of his anxiety. She should have expected it, she supposed, but even now the idea that the Yamani emperor, a gorgeous and remote figure of childhood, should be made anxious by her seemed altogether the wrong way round. She saw Yuki holding her breath, but if Neal's accent remained horrible his vocabulary and grammar were decent, and the gods knew he'd had the High Mode

drilled into him by everyone. The Emperor nodded, his voice to Yuki warm.

"Our niece's letters have made clear what a boon you have been to her, Blessed Lady Yukimi, as to Blessed Crown Prince Roald and the Blessed Protector, and that like your brother you grow from strength to strength. And We should not delay your reunion with him and your most esteemed parents." That dismissal was clear but the Emperor's eyes came back to Kel. "As you are the Guildmaster, Blessed, perhaps your esteemed father will not mind if you introduce Us to its delegation."

It wasn't a question, nor was the answer in doubt, but Kel scrupulously glanced at her Papa, who merely flickered an eyebrow, and gave Neal and Yuki time to move on before gesturing the waiting immortals — and two sweating footmen holding the perch with Cloestra and Amourta — forward. She couldn't change mode, but Sakuyan blessedness didn't apply to immortals and she shifted register slightly.

"Truth to tell, Your Imperial Majesty, if mortal protocol applied this one would face a pretty puzzle balancing the seniorities of kinds and individuals. Fortunately, though all have heard Lord Sakuyo's laughter, they care more for the pragmatic than protocol. Var'istaan and St'aara, with St'aara's son Amiir'aan, were among the first builders of New Hope. Kuriaju and his nephew Ventriaju came later, but are founder members of the Guild."

Eitaro had told her his brother had met the basilisks and ogres working at Edo when they arrived, and neither caused him undue anxiety now. The universal fluency of immortals in Yamani was also imperially encouraging, and the Emperor knew enough about the siege to offer proper praises to Var'istaan and Ventriaju. But Cloestra and Amourta were another matter, spotlessly clean as they might be, and their nakedness did not help ; but there was Cloestra's visibly Yamani heritage and its echo in Amourta. Kel made the formal introductions, waited on the stormwings' precise responses, seeing the wariness in imperial eyes, and let a confiding tone into her voice even as she projected it more strongly, a command trick of Raoul's she had long learned to appreciate.

"Cloestra has been telling us of her memories of Heian -Kyó in centuries past, Your Imperial Majesty. Those Amourta cannot of course share, Your Imperial Highness, for she has but two mortal years, and is the youngest member of the Guild — though by no means the least, having been among those stormwings who fulfilled Shakith's prophecy."

The Emperor had heard what she was doing, and if a strange glint came to his eye he didn't hesitate in joining Prince Taikyuu in expressing appreciation of precocity. And Amourta played along perfectly, her impeccable Yamani and ironic understanding in blazing contrast to her stated age and inexperience.

"The Protector was forced to very great slaughter before Queen Barzha could kill King Maggur. It was extremely nourishing." Light glinted on steel feathers and teeth. "And we have a gift for Your Imperial Majesty on the Guild's behalf, if such does not offend."

Curiosity joined mild shock in imperial eyes. "By no means."

Kuriaju produced from a pocket only an ogre's tunic could harbour a long, slim case, and held it open in Yamani style.

"An arrow fletched by the Protector with my hatching down. She gave one to Lord Weiryn of the Hunt, who informs us that its virtue, beyond that of all stormwing fletching, as a magekiller, is to cleave to its target through any armour, as I clove open my shell."

"Indeed?"

Kel had already noted archer's callouses on imperial hands, and was gratified but unsurprised by obviously genuine interest as he peered at and extracted the arrow, turning it in his hands ; with another breath of intuition she took a risk, and dropping her voice to a murmur dropped also into the friend-to-imperial Prince Eitaro had insisted on.

"Beware the vanes, my Emperor, for they will slice even godflesh to the bone."

His eyes flashed and as he carefully replaced the arrow in its case he replied in the mode's proper reverse before switching up again.

"Thank you, Keladry-chan. And Our warm thanks, Amourta, Cloestra, and all, for such an immortal gift."

A pleased Kel let her voice become brisker, while still projecting and modifying her formal register a little more.

"And last, Your Imperial Majesty, though again by no means least, allow me to present Journeydragon Lady Skysong — also very young in terms of her own kind, having but fifteen years, yet the first qualified Journeybeing of the Guild, as well as one granted Honorary Citizenship of New Hope for her great part in its creation. She is also thereby, despite her youth, the senior dragon among those resident in the Mortal Realms, though some are many centuries older."

Most of that had been negotiated with Kit long before, to much mutual amusement, but on the river barge Kit's response had been modified, adding to her deep nod (dragons, she had told Kel quite flatly, did not bow) a momentary wreath of dragonfire hovering in the air between them that had everyone straightening.

Such is my honour, Emperor Daichi noh Takuji, and I am happy now to offer you, beyond my own, the greetings of Ancestor Rainbow Windheart, who rules the Dragonmeet, and of my grandsire, Lord Diamondflame, dominant among dragonkind. They are pleased we should be again known among mortals in the Time of the Protector.

Kel hadn't much cared for the last phrase, but with darking relay available Kit had had both Rainbow's and Diamondflame's interested support, so protest had been futile ; and perhaps the dragons had been right. The rippling shock among courtiers told her Kit's increasingly potent mindvoice had slapped sensibilities hard, and the combination of native dignity and authority (and flame) served notice to anyone with sense that Kit's size belied her potency. The Emperor's return nod was also deeper than to others, acknowledging it.

"Thank you, Journeydragon Lady Skysong, and do please convey Our own greetings to Ancestor Rainbow Windheart and Lord Diamondflame. Should they ever have occasion to visit Our realm, we would be honoured."

That Kel filed away — not that adult dragons would wait on an invitation if they did have occasion. And Kit had her own notions about how much protocol should delay satisfying curiosity.

I will. Does the dragon that is your symbol have a name?

The Emperor blinked. "Ah, no, not a personal one. The symbol is ryuujin."

Kel told me that, but dragons do not have kings or gods, so it sounds odd. The image is more accurate than Scanran ones, though.

"They are improving these days, Kit, you must admit."

I suppose, but they could hardly get any sillier.

Kel's laughing eyes met the Emperor's. "Lady Skysong was quite exercised when she first heard the Hamrkengingsaga, Your Imperial Majesty, as you may have read, and remains keen to correct mortal misapprehensions of her kind arising from their long absence from these realms."

There was imperial amusement, but something more, too.

"As is proper, Blessed Protector-sensei. No dragon should be misapprehended." His eyes glinted intent. "But We detain you from other introductions. Toshuro-sama will guide you."

Following the Emperor's gesture, Kel bowed again to him and his son, and with the waiting Toshuro, Patricine, and her parents led the Guild delegation to join a circuit of lesser greetings. Eitaro was conducting the Tortallan royals around various senior courtiers and kamunushi, and Takemahou-sensei was doing as much for Alanna, Neil, and Yuki ; Yuki's parents and Keiichi had joined them. As they made their way across the courtyard Kel rested a hand briefly on Tobe's shoulder, matching Dom's on the other side, and kept her voice to a murmur.

"Nicely done, Tobe."

"Indeed." Her Papa's voice was equally low. "Do you understand what's going on, Kel? I am frankly puzzled by several things."

"A pointed display, but beyond that ..."

"Mmm."

There was no time for more, and a determined, polite briskness with senior nobles and bureaucrats of the Left-Hand ministries — the military and samurai, treasury, and security — kept them moving at a fair rate despite obvious curiosity about her and the immortals. But the switch to Right-Hand ministries brought them to the man she had assumed, correctly, was Lord Fujiwara's son, Lord Shoji, here in his own right but also deputising for his father in his absence — itself probably a calculated slap, especially as Shoji's name declared him a second son. The Yamani way would suggest exquisite, pointed politeness around the overt insult, framing its rebuke, but the pinched distaste in Lord Shoji's face made Kel wonder, and she found herself unsurprised when after the barest nod he looked at his senior bureaucrat.

"Despite her gaijin size she's a lot smaller than she looks in those paintings supposedly by Sakuyo. I can't imagine why she's been allowed to cause so much trouble."

A dozen calculations flipped through Kel's mind as she saw Toshuro freeze and heard her parents' startled breaths. Raising one hand slightly to forestall anyone else's response she let her voice flatten.

"The originals of Lord Sakuyo's paintings at New Hope are very much larger than the divine copies His Imperial Majesty has, my Lord, and the discrepancy between my apparent and real sizes a part of his point you seem to have misunderstood. You should consider it carefully. And what trouble can you mean?"

There were a score of ways she could have answered him, and what he had expected she couldn't guess ; flustered silence, probably, but certainly not the direct question she'd chosen. It was she to whom he was being introduced, and she had not dismissed him, so anything he said was addressed to her, no matter where his face was pointed : which made his tactics as inept as they were brazen. And after a nasty, spreading silence, he tried a fool's escape without even the courtesy of apology.

"I was not aware you spoke Yamani so … competently."

"No? My commiserations then, my Lord. Tell me, if you will, was it birth, malady, or accident that deprived you of your hearing? I would not wish to make any unfortunate assumption in so delicate a matter."

Toshuro's stillness shifted from shock to predatory enjoyment, and the bureaucrat's eye also acquired a glint. Lord Shoji's looked more like a fresh-caught fish's as the mallet came down, but as silence spread again Kel thought giving him half-an-out would be wise.

"No matter — I understand that you would not wish to speak of such misfortune. But you have not answered my question, my Lord. Perhaps you didn't hear it. What trouble did you mean?"

Her continued use of his honorific while properly using senior to junior noble — she held her title in her own right — was a running rebuke to his rudeness, and he knew it. But though he had no-one to blame but himself, she could see only surprised fury in his eyes as he drew sharp breath. His voice acquired a grating quality.

"You are said to have killed many."

Kel considered, not letting the silence rush her. She doubted he had the least insight into the burden of killing on the scale she had managed, but vile as it had been she had made her peace with it, as with the Black God, and though she never forgot her dead neither did she allow them to haunt her more than was necessary.

"Alas, my Lord, it is said truly. War has that effect. I had lost count of men I have killed long before the siege of New Hope, and that dwarfed all that had gone before." She cocked her head slightly. "But as the first five hundred or so there were self-declared traitors, in arms against their king, and the next thousand or two Scanran invaders, I am at a loss to understand how you suppose me to have caused these troubles. Perhaps you will enlighten me, my Lord?"

After some very uncomfortable seconds Toshuro spoke, though whether he was calming or stirring Kel wasn't sure.

"I would imagine, Blessed Protector-sensei, that Lord Shoji averted to the divine attention so clearly focused on you in recent years."

"Ah. Thank you, Toshuro-sama. An understandable error, then, my Lord, but one you would do well to correct. The gods do as they will, always, and mortal notions of cause and effect are … less than adequate to their purposes. I am quite sure, for example, that Lord Sakuyo's attention is on us both, just now, but to think I was the cause would be to suppose a man killed in a storm was the victim of a house, and not of the wind that blew its roof-tile onto his head."

He was still trying to work it out when she smiled enquiringly at the bureaucrat, forcing Lord Shoji to make the introduction, then started her own introductions giving him time only to jerk increasingly angry nods as she named Dom, Tobe, and all the immortals. What they made of his rudeness was clear enough in their scrupulous, individual thanks to her as Protector and uses of his title, and as soon as Kitten was done, tail stiff with disdain, Kel gave Lord Shoji a fractional nod, and Toshuro cut in smoothly with the names of the next ministerial party. Conscious of leaving a fool fuming in her wake, she found herself quite enjoying the surprised appreciation and malicious pleasure that had joined wary curiosity in people's eyes, but the final shift to the ranks of the kamunushi brought a renewed tension.

Sakuyans were pre-eminent but had positioned themselves last, and Kel filed away the

appearances and identities of the First Kamunushi of Lord Mithros, the Great Goddess, and the Black God before coming to their white-robed ranks. Amid much bowing, Lord Kiyomori greeted her and introduced his superior, First Kamunushi of Lord Sakuyo Hidetaki, a vigorous old man in whose sunken eyes suspicions wrestled with fears.

"Blessed Protector-sensei." His reedy voice made him sound as dubious about the title as Kel herself, and he was eyeing her jade token and the many others on view with something less than pleasure. "You are said to have received unprecedented attention from the High One."

"And so I have, my Lord." She gave him an open smile. "Irritating, isn't it? For me too, usually, I assure you. But he is a great trickster, after all."

Unfortunately he seemed more puzzled than amused or reassured.

"He is not therefore to be taken lightly!"

"Of course not, my Lord, though his hand be as light as a leaf. And I have never taken him so, I assure you. Yet in my experience it does not do to confuse levity and frivolity with any god, especially a trickster."

"Hmph." He changed tack. "Do you know, Blessed, why he should have wanted your Guild as his architects, as the kamunushi of Edo are so certain he did?"

Kel shrugged as delicately as her size allowed. "The layers of his thinking are beyond any mortal ken, my Lord, but the top few … well, I could say he saw the Guild's work to Geraint-sensei's design at New Hope, and approved of it. It is also plain that many gods welcome closer co-operation between mortals and immortals — both Lord Weiryn and Lord Mithros say so — so I must suppose Lord Sakuyo is also glad to promote that cause here." Something clicked in her mind. "Perhaps one might most profitably say that it is his advertisement of New Hope to his own people."

The Yamani phrase lent itself to exactly the same resonant puns that informed the Tortallan, and Kel felt its rightness. Quite what His Nibs really wanted remained unclear, and she wasn't sure either Hidetaki or Kiyomori had really grasped what she was telling them. But they didn't seem impious, just wretchedly earnest, and she had another chiming thought of Sakuyo's amusement at using what he had called her sadly stunted sense of humour to chide those still more earnest, and far closer to home. Both senior kamunushi stared at her.

"You seem very certain, Blessed."

"Do I, Lord Kiyomori? I merely report what he has written or said to me directly. To remain uncertain in the face of divine testimony would be too rude. And foolish. But so would supposing what little one does know to encompass his whole purpose."

"Indeed." With a strained glance at his superior, who nodded, Lord Kiyomori lowered his voice.

"You should understand, Blessed, that not all saw what I saw at New Hope, nor credit that I met

Lord Weiryn and his Green Lady, and you no longer shine as you once did on the second plane."

Kel's mind whirred, the notion that anyone would have been bespelling their eyes to look not having occurred to her. "Mmm. I don't suppose I do, my Lord. The godwork I then bore was, um, recalled shortly afterwards. But I do understand that for many only seeing is believing." Both men caught the reference, as did Toshuro. "Still, I would have thought the paragraph that keeps appearing in copies of my book, though not in print, would give anyone pause."

"Many, yes, Blessed, but some say magic might achieve as much."

"And what mortal mage — or immortal? — do they suppose capable of such magic without suffering swift and condign punishment?"

"Who knows, Blessed?"

Kel shook her head. "Anyone who bothers to think, my Lord. And how do Yamani copies appear on the second plane?"

Both men nodded at that. "They shine, Blessed, but only faintly. And not all have eyes that can see on that plane."

"Well, there are a lot of copies by now, so maybe the shine gets shared out." She was growing tired of the fencing. "I've no idea, but I'll ask him if I get a chance. And we should compare the Tortallan and Yamani texts — I've been wondering what kanji he might have chosen. Meanwhile, let me introduce the Guild delegation."

Lord Kiyomori, to give him credit, coped well with immortals, but in Lord Hidetaki's eyes she saw more fear than welcome, and pegged him as one part of the problem. How such a humourless man could hold the post he did was a puzzle, but that Lord Fujiwara — presumably — had been prepared to order the murder of a kamunushi offered one explanation. Fear was rarely good for one's sense of humour, and she had begun to think that Sakuyan (and perhaps other) divines must have been running scared of political conflict for a while — it would be no wonder if news of the booming laughter repeatedly heard at New Hope, and all the supposed favours the god had dropped on her head like hot coals, had the incumbent temple leaders as wary as cats. They were also worried about her agenda, and she tried to be reassuring.

"Besides the official schedule, my Lords, I am primarily here as Guildmaster, and other than showing my husband and son where I spent so much of my childhood, my concerns are with trade. My mother and I did wish to see again the Swords of Law and Duty she once saved, and I always liked Kiyomizu-dera." The old Sakuyan temple was on the mountain to the east, Higashiyama, with a spectacular view that had made it a very visible target for those long-ago raiders. "Is that not well?"

If they thought it wasn't they could hardly admit it, and at last the interminable round of greetings was done, with the Emperor expressing his desire that Their Majesties and all his most welcome and esteemed guests should have some time to rest and prepare themselves for the welcoming banquet that awaited all. Everyone, including immortals, seemed to have been treated as a unit, and they followed Prince Eitaro past one wing of the palace and through the landscaped grounds of the Daidairi, with many cherry trees, to a smaller but still handsome building with its own surrounding complex. When Kel had lived at the Palace as a child, it had been the Dower House of the Emperor's mother, strictly off-limits to children, but she had died some years before, and now — or at least, for this — it made excellent and secure guest-quarters. An oversize extension had been added to which the immortals were directed, and with a wave to Kitten, Kel followed the royals into the hallway.

Footmen and maids were waiting to show the way to assigned rooms, but Kel, like Cricket and Yuki, had already heard the hungry chuntering and wound up instead in the feeding-room attached to the royal nursery. With the twins suckling Kel could happily have sunk into the pleasure of it, but if she hadn't known better than to take the opportunity offered Shinko wasn't giving her the chance.

"Keladry-chan, I am so very sorry. Lord Shoji was unforgivably rude."

"And stupid. Is he always so incompetent in his moves?" Having Faran at her breast meant Shinko had no fan to use, and Kel grinned at her look. "Oh, I'm quite as cross as I ought to be,

Cricket, and I begin to believe he and his father are riding for a fall. But I don't think going all earnest about it is what's needed." She shook her head. "You said it, you know, back at New Hope, the first time Lord Sakuyo laughed there. You knew of two of his Blessed here — two . He must have been very busy elsewhere for a long while, so it's no wonder they've all forgotten that he likes to laugh."

Shinko half-frowned, caught herself, and smiled. "I'm doing it too, aren't I? And you did turn Lord Shoji's terrible rudeness to others' laughter. But Keladry-chan, if you had not been able to put him down so very well, it would have become a very serious problem for my uncle."

"And for Toshuro-sama."

"Yes, I realised that, Yuki, and it makes me crosser than the insult, frankly. But it was still amazingly clumsy. And I want to know about the Sakuyan kamunushi who was murdered. Also, how long have the divines been running so scared of Lord Fujiwara? Ask Keiichi?"

"Of course."

Shinko nodded. "Good questions, and the last I can answer, Keladry-chan, because it's for ever. Well, since my grandfather married, anyway. Besides mothers-in-law, the kamunushi of the First Temple were another Fujiwara means of control."

"Are Hidetaki and Kiyomori appointees of your uncle's?"

"Yes, but they will have been compromises. I was not privy to any details, but I can ask. What did they say to you?"

"If you would. Oh, and does your uncle want to talk privately about Lord Sakuyo? I'd thought he would, but he didn't say anything. As for the kamunushi, they, um, sat very hard on the fence while making sure I understood that some with potent opinions were unconvinced I was, if indeed Blessed, any kind of blessing."

"More rudeness!"

"And foolishness, Cricket. Never mind messing with me — just think about what happens to people who don't at least try to see the funny side of Lord Sakuyo's jokes."

It was very late before Kel finally got to bed, and if she hadn't been able to use the twins as an unimpeachable excuse for withdrawing she thought she might be answering Jonathan and Thayet still. They had needed briefing about Lord Shoji and the Sakuyans before dinner, and her advice, strongly backed by a grateful and impressed Toshuro, and an alarmed Patricine, to act as if nothing worth noticing could possibly have happened, had proven sound. Lord Shoji was not present at the meal, and all the visitors were surrounded by loyalist nobles who restricted their conversation to explanations of each dish interspersed with questions about the Scanran War and possibilities of trade. One interesting point was that although the Yamanis expected mortal guests to eat Yamani dishes without blinking, immortal needs and tastes had been catered for — a rock-feast the basilisks obviously appreciated, larger vegetarian dishes for the ogres, low perches but no place-settings for the stormwings, and some spicy dishes hot enough to have Kitten chewing with enthusiasm.

It had been a long, eventful day, and people had been relieved when Jonathan and Thayet gracefully pleaded the rigours of travel, allowing all the visitors to withdraw. But Jonathan had then wanted a much more extensive briefing, or rather to hash over all sorts of speculations, and

Alanna, buoyant with the absence of sea-sickness, had been happy to oblige ; even her parents had been drawn in, trying to map the politics going on, and if that was more useful Kel had still thought too much of it guesswork. When Thayet had cut across her husband to ask Kel what she thought, she had stood.

"I think the twins need feeding, I need sleep, and you're all going about this backwards. The question isn't so much how things are as how Lord Sakuyo has decided to change them, and we don't know yet because he hasn't told us. But sometime between here and Edo on his day when the temple is dedicated, he will, and then we do it. Even thunder stops, remember? If it really is Lord Fujiwara who's the problem, he doesn't stand a chance, whatever he thinks. But I am concerned about the possible threat to immortals, sire. I didn't have much choice, but the way I used their introductions to silence Lord Shoji will have compounded the fear that was plain in his eyes — just as in Runnerspring's that day on the clifftop, so we need to be careful."

She'd turned to the immortals who were listening.

"I'm sorry for it, and you all played along beautifully, thank you, but I feel bound to suggest you make sure you are always in strength."

"We hear you, Protector." Var'istaan gestured with a forepaw. "Yet few mortals offering any of us violence could hope to survive."

"And such a man as Lord Fujiwara, in Yaman, would have no difficulty finding an assassin who would coldly accept that. It makes a difference."

St'aara nodded. "We realise, Protector. Perhaps we might speak of it in the morning, before any leave this place."

A nodding Kel had made her escape, to nurse her babes and fall into a deep sleep beside Dom until roused by the night-maid to repeat both procedures. Over the morning feed Ebony reported that Diamondflame and Rainbow had been told of her message, and she turned options in her mind : mortals were scheduled to visit the Temple District and make offerings, which was a better invitation to divine moves than mortal ones and to her advantage, but all the immortals wanted to explore the city, and the stormwings needed to fly. It was still Kitten who worried her, and before eating she dressed in training clothes and slipped out, taking her glaive and using the half-remembered backways of the Daidairi to make her way to the compound of the Imperial Guard — where, as she had hoped, Kravimal and several other spidrens were sparring with samurai. The sight was fascinating and set all sorts of ideas churning, but Hayato-sensei was also there, offering a smiling bow.

"I wondered if you might come, Blessed."

"As I hoped you might be here, sensei. But I must confess my childbed is yet less than two months past, and I am still recovering fitness."

The sensei acknowledged that with another bow, but after watching Kel through a warm-up pattern dance and sparring gently for a few minutes, began to push the tempo. Stimulated as much by being back in a place where she had often spent time in childhood as by her opponent's skill, and her own sense of being nearly back to fitness, Kel responded, and though they didn't reach the perfect state, by the end they were more allowing blades to kiss than truly striking or parrying. When the sensei disengaged, she smiled again.

"A commendable return to readiness, Blessed. Perhaps fortunately."

"Mmm. So I have been gathering." Direct questioning was rarely the right tack in Yaman, which

was one reason it had so surprised Lord Shoji. "Forgive my ignorance, sensei, but do I have any duties to the Temple of Weapons, in the light of your report?"

"No duties, Blessed, but they would certainly welcome you with interest and pleasure." "Even those who prefer the evidence of their own eyes, sensei ?"

"Even such as they, Blessed, some of whom find themselves gratified even now. The Temple attracts pragmatists, you realise."

Kel turned that one in her mind. "I see that it would, sensei, yet not all who call themselves such see all the relevant facts."

"True, Blessed. Did you know, though, that the Temple has approved the spidrens' blades and opened a new field of styles?"

"I did not, sensei, and thank you for the information, as the Temple for its wisdom."

Kel had been too young as a child to understand quite what role the Temple of Weapons played, but she had seen its displays often enough, and after Hayato's words at New Hope had remedied the deficit in several long conversations with her parents. It was so un -Tortallan it wasn't easy to express, but as a vital adjunct of the samurai code it not only oversaw weapons manufacture but did so with divine sanction, its sensei linking the military Left Hand with the religious establishment. And if the Temple were solidly behind all that the new spidren troops stood for — which made sense, now she thought about it, as the military had borne the brunt of the fighting on Wangetsushima before Takemahou-sensei had brokered the treaty — real Fujiwara pressure on Sakuyan divines became understandable. If you'd forgotten His Nibs wouldn't like it, anyway. Thanking Hayato again for her instruction, Kel excused herself and crossed to speak to Kravimal.

"I'd be glad to try sparring another morning, Kravimal, if you're willing."

"It would be my honour, Protector. The beauty of the movement of His Imperial Majesty's sensei of weapons was one attraction for those of us who enjoy fighting, and you are as they."

"Not by a ways yet, Kravimal, but thank you. And I was wondering if you or some of your troop might keep a special eye on Lady Skysong for me today, when the immortals leave the Daidairi? She does very well, but she is young and excited to see a new place. And for all her experiences, she does not always quite appreciate the idea of hostility aimed specifically at her, nor guard against it as she might."

"Of course, Protector. Have you any guidance on what you fear?"

These spidrens might have become imperial troops but they remained spidren, not Yamani, and Kel grinned at the directness despite the topic, noting that Hayato was ever so politely eavesdropping. "Mmm. Probably not a direct attack, though after Lord Shoji noh Fujiwara's crudity yesterday I can't rule it out. But harassment or even attempted kidnap, dressed up as a jest, maybe. Or just the creation of an incident, playing on mortal wariness of the unfamiliar. I'll ask Cloestra and Amourta to scout for you, but Skysong can bounce sideways if something catches her attention, and she will ask whatever questions occur to her."

She got a return grin. "So we heard yesterday. And even the mortal samurai guards agree the dragon of ryuujin should have a proper name, so perhaps thinking of an appropriate one might occupy some of Lady Skysong's curiosity." He looked reflective. "And her own defences seem formidable, Protector. None of us here had met a dragon kit before, and while we know she is mature beyond her years, as all younglings of New Hope are said to be, we had not quite

anticipated the reality."

Kel nodded. "They're born with it, I think, as stormwings with their names. I didn't see it, but she stood off two wyverns for several days before she was three. As I understand it, she couldn't then make them leave altogether, as she could now, but they weren't coming any closer."

"Somehow I am unsurprised. Do the gods also move here, Protector?"

"I believe they're about to, Kravimal. Lord Sakuyo, anyway. And if so, the thing is to keep everyone alive until they do and we can see what part they need us to play." Kel tapped a foot once or twice, and made a decision. "On the face of it Yamani politics is none of my business, but then I didn't think Tortallan politics was my business either, and look where that got me. This feels like the same thing all over again — I just wanted a nice ceremonial visit and dedication, and to show my husband and charges the Yaman I love, but this shadow the gods have gifted me falls too heavily. What any of them want is a mystery, but I'll bet two things. One is that the more peaceful everything stays, the better — I can't believe Lord Mithros would want the alliance destabilised — and the other is that Lord Sakuyo will have words for his kamunushi, and maybe others as well. Then again, no -one gets everything they want, not even gods, and if the … opposition is who and what it seems, they appear to be increasingly desperate and crude. And I cannot think Lord Sakuyo was pleased to find himself down one young kamunushi — while to give such an order would take a man already risking opposition to the divine."

Steel teeth glinted. "Wisdom, Protector. We always take our vigilance seriously, as we must, but we will be most alert."

"Thank you, Kravimal." She almost turned away but remembered in time. "Oh, what was your question for the Guild?"

His face stilled. "Wangetsushima is still quite crowded, though far more peaceful, Protector, and by the treaty we may not ask to expand elsewhere in Yaman for ten years." Spidrens didn't do self-deprecating very well, but Kravimal tried. "So we have wondered if the Guild might have use for some energetic younger spidrens?"

"Energetic or ill-disciplined?"

"The former if kept busy."

Kel sighed. "I expect so. Quenuresh and Aldoven will have a veto on individuals, mind. Do you mean only as troops, or will they consider other occupations?"

Eyebrows rose. "Such as?"

"Sailing — lots of nice rigging to climb and sails to furl, very interesting during a storm — or the manufacture of fine webbing mesh for petrification?" She'd never seen a spidren look so surprised, and heard a soft snort from the sensei's direction. "Both at Mindelan, probably, so Vorgitarl would have a veto too. Or there's general webwork — renewing safety-nets for alures and suchlike. Most of that's already taken care of, but I don't suppose Quenuresh or Aldoven would object to some extra pairs of spinnerets. Talk to the others — they can tell you how it works."

"I will. And sailing is a new thought, interesting if strange."

"His Imperial Majesty has a navy, too."

"So he does." Kravimal gave one of those awkward bows. "Protector. You do not disappoint."

Kel shook her head. "So Quenuresh once told me. But I must be getting back before someone decides I've got lost."

She was doing Dom and her Mama an injustice, though, for both gave Jonathan identical I-told-you -so looks when she reappeared, properly dressed, in the dining room of the Dower House to see that Patricine and Toshuro had again joined them, with their children.

"Glaive practice, sweeting?"

"Of course, Mama. I had a nice session with Hayato-sensei, and a useful chat with Kravimal she could overhear, so the Emperor's briefed, or soon will be."

Her Mama nodded appreciatively, as did Toshuro. "Excellent. You must be hungry."

"I am. Oh, and there was one interesting thing from Hayato-sensei. Did you know the Temple of Weapons has opened a new field of styles for the armed spidrens?"

"They have?" Her Papa joined them, looking intrigued. "That's quick for such a decision."

"So I thought. But you should see them spar — I can see why a new field was needed. And who was taking most of the Wangetsushima casualties?"

"Very true." He gave her a look. "An attested gaijin sensei of the naginata can't have hurt."

Kel almost rolled her eyes. "That wouldn't move anything or anyone not ready to move, Papa, so pebble and avalanche at best." She shrugged. "Which it might be, given His Nibs. But what matters is the Temple did it, so even if the typhoon gets out of the teacup it won't be going anywhere much."

"Mmm, yes. That is reassuring."

"Could one of you please explain, quite slowly." Jonathan's voice was plaintive.

"Yes of course, sire, but over breakfast if you don't mind."

There was, thankfully, Tortallan breakfast food, and having filled her plate she seated herself between her parents and Patricine and Toshuro, across from Jonathan and Thayet, who had Roald and Shinko beside them. With the edge taken off her hunger, she drank tea and explained about the Temple of Weapons before considering the royals.

"Nothing's changed since last night, sire, but we know a little more. I'll be glad of confirmation when Shinko and Yuki have had the chance to ask some private questions, but the bones are becoming clearer. Toshuro-sama, correct me if I'm wrong. The power Lord Fujiwara has been hanging onto is slipping away, and the military is solidly behind the Emperor, not least because they were getting very fed up with fighting spidrens and he's just fixed that. So Lord Fujiwara is therefore having to rely more and more on his influence with the kamunushi, yes?"

Toshuro nodded. "That is quite correct, Keladry-sensei."

"Well, I believe Lord Sakuyo's had about enough of it. And that we are probably serving him as a pebble tossed to start an avalanche — but it will be a small avalanche. I think."

Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment. "And you were doing so well, Keladry. Any idea what sort of avalanche?"

"No, sire. But it doesn't matter — unless His Imperial Majesty or a god tells us otherwise, our job

is just to stand clear."

"And cheer it on?"

"Maybe, sire." Kel smiled. "Ask me after we've been to the Temple District. I think this would be just Lord Sakuyo's business, except that Lord Fujiwara has taken his stand at least in part around the treaty — treaties, counting the one with the spidrens — and that may be annoying Lord Mithros." She sighed. "In any case, sire, all you and Thayet have to do, or any of us, is carry on while keeping sharply alert — reaction as necessary, but no acting beyond the scheduled events."

"I'm going to regret this, I'm sure, but you know all this how exactly?"

"I know very little, sire, but most of it seems straightforward enough. We know the gods support the treaties and welcome the emerging wider peace."

"Is that supposed to be a comfort?" Jonathan flapped a hand. "No, don't answer that. I do learn, if slowly. Just keep us posted ahead of time, if you can? Not that it really helps."

Kel offered an austere smile. "When it happens, sire, we'll all know soon enough. Lord Sakuyo is light-handed, not low-voiced."

"If you say so, Kel." Thayet, though quiet, had been listening intently. "Though something still seems off. We still don't know what moved the Emperor to insist we be here now. And in this context all the formal jesting in Lord Sakuyo's name seems much more alarming."

Kel's papa leaned forward. "Now that is true, Your Majesty, and I believe I do have some different advice on that. Seeking to play any of the more complex jests we considered becomes too much of a risk and complication. I would suggest that you stick to some of the good natured children's jests we discussed, should occasion demand or opportunity arise. They have a long and honourable record of adult use, too, and would be taken in good part by … most."

Shinko strongly agreed, and Thayet nodded.

"So noted, then, Piers, with thanks. That at least is simple advice, Jon."

"So is my daughter's, actually, Your Majesties. It's just harder to follow, because it means waiting with an open heart and mind. And I think perhaps she is right that we are an added pebble, but that it will be someone else's misstep that will start an avalanche."

Kel shrugged. "Could be, Papa. A misplaced jest that will catch the jester in a greater one would make sense. What worries me, though, is Lord Shoji's crudity yesterday — it makes him harder to predict. And to answer your first question, Thayet, if some earlier version of that crudity didn't prompt His Imperial Majesty, Lord Sakuyo may have done so directly. Or indirectly. Do you know, Toshuro-sama?"

"There has been no public explanation, Keladry-sensei, but what was said in some quarters was that His Imperial Majesty had a most vivid dream of the dedication at Edo with Tortallans present, and believed it to be a divine suggestion."

"Mmm. And what is thought?"

"No-one is sure."

"So the suspicion is just because dreams are so often convenient?"

He nodded, and she shrugged.

"But Lords Sakuyo and Gainel are friends, so it could be no more than the truth. And either way, sire, we always knew we were going to be imperially staged, to political effect."

With that the royals had to be content, and the scheduled departure for the Temple District was becoming imminent. Kel managed a quick word with the immortals, arranging for Cloestra to liaise with Kravimal, and knelt to speak solemnly to Kitten.

"The spidrens will be on guard, Kit, so the thing is not to leave their sight. I know it's a bore, and that you have good defences yourself, but please be careful."

I will, Kel. It is annoying, but Kravimal seems nice.

"He is, I think. And he was wondering if you had a good name for the dragon on the ryuujin."

Oh. That is a difficult question. Usually we name ourselves. I will have to think about it.

"Please do. And anything on griffins?"

No. A mated pair are aware I am here, as I am aware of them, but they have come no closer.

"Mmm. Thanks, Kit, and have an interesting time."

Kel rather thought everyone would, Kitten's curiosity being incorrigible and Heian-Kyó an interesting place, but her own schedule called. Prince Eitaro was once again escorting them all, and she, Dom, and Tobe found themselves beside a slightly breathless Keiichi in a long, guarded procession back down Suzaku-oji and west on Shijo-oji. There were again many spectators, this time including far more children and consequently less silence. Amid the noise Keiichi spoke Tortallan and kept his voice to a murmur that reached only her, Dom, and Tobe.

"Keladry-sensei, His Imperial Majesty very strongly commends your responses yesterday, and instructed me at the last moment to tell you He believes your conversation with Kravimal-sama was most perceptive."

"Does He? But only believes?"

"That was His word."

"Mmm. So we're all still guessing." Having everyone stumbling about in the dark was probably part of Lord Sakuyo's impending joke, whatever it was. "And while we are, Keiichi-sama, why do you suppose Lord Shoji was so clumsy as well as so rude yesterday?"

"Ah." He looked appreciative. "That is much discussed, Keladry-sensei, but everyone was surprised. Not least by your responses, about which I entirely share His Imperial Majesty's and Toshuro-sama 's opinions." He spread one elegant hand. "Frankly, Shoji noh Fujiwara has never been anything like as intelligent as he supposes himself. His elder brother was far sharper, but Lord Shoichi died in an earthquake some years ago, so his father must make do." Sending a second son had not been a deliberate compounding of insult, then, however Lord Fujiwara's own absence might be construed ; though Kel wondered if it might have been the same terrible earthquake in which Princess Chisokami had died, rather conveniently for Lord Sakuyo. "I would guess Lord Shoji had been told to offer obvious but minor insult and overstepped, while it would never have occurred to him that you would or could use your senior rank and the protocol of introductions against him."

"Ordered by whom? His father?"

"Perhaps. Or his grandmother, who remains a power in that house. Either will have been surprised

by the outcome, though."

"And now?"

"His father continues indisposed — a severe cold, apparently, to which Imperial guests should not be exposed — and it is suspected Lord Shoji may well contract it also. It would be easiest."

Kel considered. "And stepping back would be sensible, yes. But if Lord Fujiwara wants to gain anything he'll have to act, won't he?"

"So one would think. And so he must have intended. But he will have had clearer-eyed reports than those from his son, and may be having second thoughts."

"Oh?"

Keiichi's look was serious though his eyes were warm. "Oh, indeed. You are an extremely formidable person, Blessed Keladry-sensei, even without the obvious respect of so many immortals. Not least Kravimal-sama and his troop, of whom all are still most sensibly wary."

"But Lord Fujiwara wants them gone, too, doesn't he? And he must have known what he'd be facing from Prince Eitaro's report."

"Must he? Did your Lord of Runnerspring? Or King Maggur?"

Kel was still staring when a frowning Tobe asked one of the questions spinning in her mind.

"But that was before Drachifethe, and the paintings, and Ma's book, Keiichi-sama. Doesn't Lord Fujiwara believe Lord Sakuyo's own words?"

Keiichi shrugged delicately. "That copies have been printed and the contents much rumoured does not mean they have been widely available, Blessed Tobeis. And there are those who say it is but mortal magic used most sacrilegiously."

"So I gathered from Lord Kiyomori." Kel took a breath. "But Lord Sakuyo spoke to Dom and me when we first saw that paragraph, Keiichi-sama , and I do not think he will much care for those who refuse to appreciate his jest. Jests. How are the printed copies being controlled?"

"The temple has the press. Officially, they have been seeking and considering advice on how it would be best to proceed."

"Ah. Something Lords Hidetaki and Kiyomori neglected to mention. Would His Imperial Majesty wish their decision hastened?"

"Certainly. He grows quite impatient with them."

"Right."

Kel thought doing something about that would be an opportunity worth taking, but she had to wait for her chance. Though punctilious in greeting her, the various senior kamunushi who met the party as they entered the Temple District, smiling as the first-time visitors gaped at the elaborate pagoda rooves, were uniformly clear that this was above all a royal visit. Jonathan's and Thayet's various offerings were accepted with quite demure chimes, and though Kel, Dom, and Tobe all made their own offerings to Lord Mithros and the Goddess she felt nothing but that slight warmth that meant the god heard you. In the Mithran temple Kel was amused by the statue's Yamani cast of features and a skin more golden than black, but despite praying for guidance was left certain only that he was watching with interest. The wariness of the kamunushi seemed to ease as nothing

untoward happened, but then they came to the temple of the Black God.

Though universally acknowledged in Yaman, as everywhere, attitudes to death and the right of liege-lords to order seppuku meant that its god was regarded as — not the least, but perhaps the most inert of the great gods. His temple was visibly poorer, and his First Kamunushi, Lord Sugaharo, was not only elderly and affable but deferential to his fellows, who showed him scant respect. Kel felt herself bridling at the slights, and when she added to her customary offering of an ihai carved with her own name, and usual prayer for his own comfort, her hope that whatever the trouble in store none would have to face him on that account, she found herself quite unreasonably certain both that he didn't expect such hope to be fulfilled and that he didn't mind. A second later candles and incense flared as wind soughed through trees into that burning silence, and Kel rose, stifling a mild resentment at the imprecision of it all, to face the startled priests. Lord Sugaharo looked wonderstruck and delighted, the others as put out as amazed ; there was also an interesting contrast between all three and the Tortallans, with those Yamanis who had been to New Hope. Relieved wasn't quite the word, but the King's look as much as Prince Eitaro's as they converged on her suggested a certain reassurance that something positive had happened.

"That was the god's own voice, Blessed Protector-sensei ?" Lord Sugaharo's voice trembled. "I have never heard it before."

"You have now, my Lord."

"Did he speak to you, Blessed?"

"Only in his own fashion, my Lord, which is beyond words. The gods so often are, I find." Saying that this one expected someone to be facing his judges sooner rather than later wouldn't help anything. "And the burden he bears for us is as far beyond our understanding as our aid. But as I said yesterday, Lord Hidetaki, there is something I have been wanting to clear up."

Jonathan and the other royals had arrived with Eitaro, and Kel turned, switching modes.

"My Prince, does His Imperial Majesty have any objection to the distribution of my little commentary on Orchan of Eredui?"

"On the contrary, Keladry-sensei."

"Then the delays, Lord Hidetaki, are purely on account of those you mentioned who are uncertain that the final paragraph is indeed Lord Sakuyo's contribution?"

"Ah … well … you see, Blessed — "

Rude as it was, Kel cut him off. "I take it that's a yes, my Lord. After all, had you no doubts your undoubted piety must ensure your swift compliance with his evident wishes. But all such doubts may be laid to rest at once. And I should like to see the Yamani text, having read his words only in Tortallan, so perhaps you might show us the press before we go on to his own temple."

It was clearly the very last thing he or Lord Kiyomori wanted, but Kel was one of Lord Sakuyo's Blessed, her jade token prominent on her tunic as on those of many among the visitors, and with Prince Eitaro expressing immediate assent and interest the kamunushi didn't have much choice.

The printshop turned out to be tucked away in one of the buildings behind the temple, clearly not an area where the visitors had been expected, but Kel didn't let either Lord Kiyomori's running apologies or the novices and servants who stared and prostrated themselves slow their progress. But when she finally entered the hot, dusty room where three priest-printers were flapping startled dismay, and looked around, even she blinked. A press was a press, and presswork entirely logical, but beyond the orderly piles of paper and printed sheets she had expected there seemed to be

multiple sheets of the last page, all lacking Lord Sakuyo's paragraph, and bound copies in two piles, one neat and the other haphazard. A copy from the neat pile proved to be a complete text, and she flipped through it before studying the final, beautifully calligraphed words.

Gem had become gyokuei, implying transparency, which might have made her bridle, but making her way through the kanji she saw that puissant had become seiei, which could equally mean 'chosen' or 'efficient', and jester was doukegata — not the usual doukemono with its implications of buffoonery but the trickster in a stage-play, who brought about both central confusion and ultimate resolution. Shinko of course knew the Tortallan text, and Kel passed her the volume.

"Some interesting translations, Your Highness. Perhaps you might explain to Their Majesties."

A copy from the haphazard pile had no Sakuyan text, and it took her only a moment to see that Stenmun Gunnarsson's paragraph, below which it should appear, had been altered. The same was true of other copies in that pile, though the changes varied from omission of a whole phrase to alteration of a single word. The unbound copies of the final page showed the same variants, and the look with which Kel pinned Lord Hidetaki was distinctly cold.

"Explain, please, my Lord, why you seek to produce wilfully altered copies?"

He took a deep breath. "Blessed Protector-sensei, we merely seek to discover when and how the spell enters the volume. It would seem to be only with the binding."

"And these altered copies?"

"Ah. An experiment only, Blessed. The spell ignores them."

Kel tapped a foot. "And from this flagrant breach of your licence you have learned what, exactly, my Lord?"

He blinked. "Licence, Blessed?"

Kel took a deep, slow breath. I am a lake. "Yes, my Lord. The licence I signed to allow the translation and printing of my book here, which specifies that no alteration whatsoever be made."

"But none of the changed copies has left this place, Blessed."

"None should exist, my Lord, by the Temple's legally binding word. I would be within my rights to cancel that licence out of hand, except that I cannot see how obliging someone other than his own temple to print a book to which he has himself contributed can aid Lord Sakuyo's purposes. In any case, this experiment stops, right now."

One of the printers was startled into protest.

"But we have not completed what was ordered, Blessed."

"Ordered by whom?"

"Ah …"

Lord Hidetaki didn't lack courage, whatever else he was short of, and tried to cover the fumble.

"By me, Blessed."

Kel very much doubted they had been his orders even if he'd passed them on, but decided extracting the probable name here and now would not help.

"Then you can change your orders, my Lord. And answer my question. What have you learned?" "Ah … That the spell is most discriminating, Blessed."

"Discriminating?" Kel was fulminating, but her anger was increasingly shot through with a welling and all too familiar sense of irony, and she shook her head slowly. "Talk about killing a joke. You know that Lord Sakuyo finds my sense of humour sadly stunted? What he would have to say of yours I hardly dare imagine. He presents you with a most marvellous jest and you decide you must conduct an experiment on it. And forgive me, my Lord, but your conclusion is inane. Of course Lord Sakuyo's spell, if that is a proper term for divine magic, is discriminating, and not merely because he would never set his name to a lie or a botched piece of work."

Hidetaki was clearly biting back anger of his own, making his voice sound clipped. "If it is indeed his, Blessed, and not some magical subterfuge you countenance as a joke."

Kel stared. "You seriously think anyone could blaspheme like that and go unpunished? Coming here, of all places, in what should be the heart of his power in these realms?"

"Many blasphemers go unpunished. Perhaps the Black God protects you from Lord Sakuyo's wrath."

Irony spilled into laughter, which disconcerted the Sakuyan no end. "And perhaps, my Lord, you have with most wonderful completeness missed Lord Sakuyo's point. Let's find out, shall we?"

She flicked through copies from the neat stack, checking each had Lord Sakuyo's paragraph, and supplied Dom, Tobe, Neal, Yuki, and Alanna, suppressing a grin, as well as all the royals and herself, before prompting Prince Eitaro to lead a return to the main precinct, the printers trailing behind with worried looks. The temple was a beautiful building, triple roof wide and elegant, and the white jade statue inside every bit as fine as she remembered. With a brief bow she slipped past Eitaro and led them all straight up to it, ignoring less senior kamunushi who gaped and made way ; then bowed and knelt, placing the book carefully aside and gazing up at the image.

"High One, as you must be well aware, your kamunushi here have got themselves in a great muddle, and it's muddling everything else. Our best offerings to you are properly reserved for the dedication at Edo, but we had hoped to give these lesser ones more ceremoniously. Your Highness?"

Shinko had always been going to make this offering on the visitors' behalves, and as she bowed and set the small but exquisite carving of a laughing face down Kel gave her an apologetic glance.

"Sorry to mess up the ceremony, Cricket."

Shinko's voice was strained but her words forthright. "Please do not be, Keladry-chan. I am quite shocked at these kamunushi."

The other royals had flanked Shinko, and as he straightened Jonathan gave her a sidelong stare. "I hope you know what you're doing, Keladry."

"Me too, sire." He wasn't amused, but she was past caring. "Tobe, would you make our offering, please?"

He came forward with Dom, who took the little stoppered bottle from a pocket and passed it to Tobe, who bowed to the statue and after stretching to touch a wetted finger to its lips poured out a drop and set the bottle down.

"New Hope sake, High One, named for your laughter. We have to buy in the rice but the Green Lady's blessing seems to attend Aunt Yuki's still."

Kel had little taste for spirits herself, but both Neal and Yuki swore the stuff was amazing, and she hoped Lord Sakuyo agreed ; the name was certainly amusing. Rising with the book back in hand, she turned, opening it to the last page and seeing others do the same. Projecting so every word was clear. she gave an exact account of being presented with the first copy by Dom, finding the paragraph (then in Tortallan), and hearing Lord Sakuyo laugh at her indignant reaction. She lifted her hand to her chest.

"I, Keladry of New Hope, do swear by Lord Sakuyo and all gods that I speak the truth." The absurdity of it all shimmered in her mind. "And as your kamunushi seem altogether to have misunderstood your jest, my Lord, I believe they deserve another."

Her hand completed the gods' circle and the immediate chimes were as loud and pure as she'd expected. Nor did the overwhelming scent of blossom surprise, and she watched with appreciation as petals fell, strewing kamunushi and visitors alike, but wondered where the hot needles might be until Lord Hidetaki began to sneeze — not once or twice, but an incessant string, eyes watering and nose streaming as the echoes boomed from the high roof like thunder. He was also going a rather unfortunate colour, and after savouring the deftness of Lord Sakuyo's aim for a moment she snapped fingers for attention and pointed to the nearest goggle-eyed kamunushi, who bowed so deeply she wondered if he'd fall prostrate.

"I believe it might be wise to assist Lord Hidetaki to the open air, Reverence." "Ah. Yes. At once, Blessed Protector-sensei."

One of his fellows sensibly came with him to slip an arm around their still convulsing senior, and as the sneezing receded the echoes slowly died away. Kel's speaking glance at Prince Eitaro met bright eyes, and with a welcome surge of mischief she used friend to imperial.

"Nothing stops the thunder when he clears his … nose." Both the Prince's snort and Yuki's scandalised laugh were the proper music and Kel tried to bury her own grin in an austere smile. "It does seem unfortunate for a kamunushi to be allergic to the manifestation of the god he serves, my Prince. Especially a First." Eitaro manfully swallowed a second snort but not his smile, and she ghosted him a wink before pinning Lord Kiyomori with a much harder look. "In any case, my Lord, I take it that no doubts now remain, hmm? Good. During Lord Hidetaki's, ah, indisposition, you are in charge?"

He swallowed, bowing low to the inevitable. "I am, Blessed. What do you require?"

"The immediate destruction of all wilfully corrupted printing blocks and printed sheets, the production of proper copies as rapidly as possible, and their prompt availability for sale."

He took a deep breath, and nodded sharply before turning to the senior printer. "Get to it, Takumi, exactly as the Blessed commands."

All three printers went at a run, and Kel considered Lord Kiyomori. "Had you decided on a price?"

"Ah … no, Blessed, we had not got so far."

Nor expected to, Kel would bet. So. "Poverty should bar none who desire to read Lord Sakuyo's words, and if you wish me to ignore your gross breach of contract, you will charge by purchaser rather than a fixed sum — a gold coin from those holding shoen, a silver coin from lesser

bureaucrats, kamunushi, and merchants, a cup or half-a-cup of rice from others. And besides this one, I shall want" — she ran names in her head and added a few for luck — "fifteen copies myself."

Prince Eitaro nodded, eyes gleaming. "Of course. And His Imperial Majesty will want five hundred, as soon as may be."

"Twenty for Crown Prince Roald and me." Shinko's eyes were also very bright. "We have promised the ambassador in Corus and several of his staff."

Though he was gritting his teeth, Lord Kiyomori nodded, snapping more orders at kamunushi who departed at speed before returning his gaze to her. Something was needed, and she thought for a moment before politely inviting Prince Eitaro forward, and lowering her voice .

"Lord Kiyomori, it is not my place to command you beyond those matters that involve me directly, but I have some advice. Tell me, if I say I will take silence as a yes, how would you answer if I asked you if those orders about the experiment came from Lord Fujiwara?"

She gave it ten long seconds, watching Eitaro's gaze harden.

"So I supposed. And I understand the Temple's obedience to them, all things considered, but it remains the case that Lord Sakuyo has been gravely insulted by his own most senior kamunushi, and is quite losing patience, I believe. You will not be blessed with a second warning, so my advice is that you ask yourself whether you would rather face the Black God's judges, whenever your time may come, with Lord Sakuyo speaking for or against you. Our time in the Mortal Realms is exceptionally sweet, as I who have thrice left them know all too well, but our time in the Peaceful Realms is a very great deal longer."

Counting her spiral-spell flight on Diamondflame was a bit of a cheat, but he had said they 'rose out of the Mortal Realms', and she had long ago realised that the gods actually liked that sort of misleading accuracy. She half-wondered if being on Drachifethe when Lord Gainel could also be there counted as well, and it ought to be four times. Silver laughter echoed in her mind, and Lord Kiyomori's bulging eyes retreated into a more thoughtful look.

"I hear you, Blessed." Thoughtful became something bleaker. "Yet even setting aside sworn obedience, there is always immediate fear."

"Of course. But is a sword thrust worse than choking to death on blossoms? Lord Hidetaki has much to think on when he again has the chance of a clear head. And fear can never be a valid reason for doing what you know to be wrong — only an understandable one. Like pain, my Lord, fear warns, but it cannot compel. The rest is between you and the High One."

"It does not seem so, Blessed."

Kel's temper frayed perceptibly, and she tapped the book she still held in her hand. "Then, to be frank, try reading the 'Note on Spiritual Warfare' from first to last with your brain turned on, my Lord. Queen Thayet saw at a glance what Lord Sakuyo was doing, and you of all people should appreciate his jest." She looked at Prince Eitaro. "Might some of your samurai guard ensure printing is swift and distribution unimpeded, my Prince?"

"Of course, Keladry-sensei."

"Thank you, my Prince. And as Their Majesties are now due elsewhere, Lord Kiyomori, we must wish you good day."

In the exit procession Kel found herself beside Prince Eitaro as he shepherded the Tortallan royals.

The openly shocked expressions and abrupt bows of everyone she could see told her the chimes must have been heard far and wide, but despite the uneasy silence the Prince spoke conversationally.

"Where exactly are we due, Keladry-chan?"

"Anywhere I can't reach my glaive, my Prince, to issue some more immediate advice."

"Ah." He shifted mode and voice, "The Public Library, please, Hideki-san, to deliver a copy of this blessed tome."


	38. Chapter 38

Pickles

Three : Pickles

Heian-Kyó, 23 March

Despite all the ructions and ripples, among Tortallans almost as much as Yamanis, Kel steadfastly insisted that the third day of the visit should remain her own, as scheduled, and her duty in it New Hope's trade. If the Emperor had requested her presence she would have gone, but as he didn't and Shinko had a whispered explanation that even she didn't think made much sense, Kel just shrugged.

"So He has some reason he won't divulge, Cricket. I'm not surprised — Lord Sakuyo is being very close-mouthed about whatever it is he wants, so it's probably another ambiguous dream your uncle is trying to understand without giving offence. And good luck to Him, but that being so I'm off to suzukema-ichi tomorrow."

The great pickle market was a public enough venue to defy danger, and Kel had genuine business there as well as a hankering to show it to Dom and Tobe. The immortals had had no trouble in the city, though both the stormwings and Kravimal had reported that certain individuals had shadowed them throughout their wanderings, perhaps intending mischief if opportunity offered. But it hadn't, or they were merely observers, and all had found much to interest them — a warehouse under construction where Var'istaan and Kuriaju had been able to demonstrate what ogre strength and basilisk magic could achieve in partnership ; a funeral the stormwings had attended, horribly spooking the mourners but leaving them the richer for some immortal discourse ; and a spice shop where Kitten had eaten three of their hottest chillies without even a burp, winning and gracefully accepting for New Hope a bushel of rice as a prize before cheerfully eating a free meal of their speciality, made with the same chillies.

They were very good, Kel, the dragonet confided with some excitement. I have the name, wanizame, and we should take as many as we can back to New Hope. Icefall will like them very much.

An amused Kel underlined super-hot shark chillies on her list, thanked Kitten for very responsible and grown-up behaviour, and told her about her own day.

The laughing god's blossom makes his chief priest sneeze? Kitten shook her snout reprovingly. That is not a sensible arrangement. But there is no accounting for gods. It is partly why they are so annoying.

"I don't disagree, Kit, and they are being annoying, though Ebony thought the joke punishing Lord Hidetaki was fun." They were alone and her collar squeaked agreement. "If they'd only say what they want doing, we could get on with it. But no, everything has to be mysterious. Just bad habits, I suppose. Anyway, would you like to come to the pickle market with us tomorrow? As the next most senior member of the Guild present, it would be good to have your approval."

That was a low blow, but Kit took her Guild rank very seriously.

Of course I will come if you need me, Kel. But I am sure they will like Yuki's pickles — everyone does.

"I hope so, Kit, but there's what we want to buy as well. Yuki works wonders, but there are thousands of pickles here, and you'll know if any have special appeal for immortals."

Thousands?

"Oh yes. Neal doesn't quite believe it either, but he'll learn."

Kit chortled, and Kel spent the rest of the evening reassuring Jonathan and Thayet and, more congenially now she was mostly over her embarrassment about it, considering the Yamani version of Lord Sakuyo's paragraph with her parents. Her father was especially struck by doukegata, and after cogitating offered her an unsettling thought.

"The thing is, my dear, that the doukegata is very much the moving force in those plots. Lord Sakuyo is often said to inspire them or applaud their jests, and the plays are all in his honour, of course, but they are the jesters, not the, um, jested. And while I entirely agree with seeking to know what he wants, I do note the major response we were blessed with today came because you stopped waiting and acted."

Kel gave him a mild fish-eye, and he held up a hand.

"No, spare me, my dear — and your caution is certainly politically wise, as well as proper. But great jests exceed wisdom and propriety alike, and you know better than I that the gods like us to work and sweat. All I'm saying, my dear, is that where you have clear cause, I believe you should not hesitate to act. Not that you often do."

"Umph." But Kel didn't have the heart to glare, and rather grumpily suspected he had a point. "The trouble is, Papa, that in open battle that's fine — with the siege I only had to win, and anything that helped in that was fine. The gods turning up was wonderful in all sorts of ways, but the objective was straightforward. But here? I've no idea what he wants, let alone what would work politically. What the Sakuyans were doing with the book was the first clear target I've had

— he wouldn't be creating Yamani copies if he didn't want them to be read — but that's why I didn't force any public admission that it was Lord Fujiwara who interfered." She scowled. "And presumably hoped to be able to circulate altered copies if he had to let any circulate at all. It's a good job Lord Sakuyo's magic was discriminating, or we could be in a horrible mess."

"My word, yes. But I'm sure you were correct that he wouldn't set his name to something imperfect, and that the jest of his paragraph only works in its proper context."

"Oh yes. Thayet's right about that. But if it's attitudes he wants changing, Papa, I've no idea at all how I'm supposed to do it."

"Mmm. But you're doing it anyway, sweeting. Yesterday you served notice at court that you were something they hadn't rightly reckoned with. And today — well, those chimes were audible for miles, by all accounts, and the kamunushi had a stall set up at the Temple Quarter gate before sundown with quite a queue building up." Ilane grinned. "I don't suppose it'll please you, but Toshuro told me Prince Eitaro had a library orator read the 'Note' aloud in Kammu Park, which was packed."

"Wonderful."

"Quite literally so, my dear."

Kel rolled her eyes and took herself off to nurse the twins, and then to bed and Dom's distracting attentions. Waking very early she returned the favour, fed the twins again, and then, feeling very supple, and cunningly enlisting her Mama's help, took Thayet, Roald, Shinko, Dom, Tobe, and Alanna off to weapons' practice, despite various sleepy (and in Alanna's case downright rude) protests.

"Hush. You all need to see this, and this is no time to be less than fighting fit."

Alanna didn't stop muttering about ungodly hours and needing her beauty sleep until they reached the Guard's compound, when, like everyone, she grew abruptly intent. There were many more people present as watchers than there had been yesterday, and Kravimal and his troop were obliging with a display.

The spidrens fought with steel by taking their weight on their rear pairs of legs and folding the first three joints of the front pair underneath them, which made the glaive blades strapped to the end of the fourth joint into what were in effect paired swords. Most of the time they used only the first pair of legs, moving on the other three, but at need the blades on the second pair could be brought into play as well, at least briefly. And they were fast, as well as getting considerable momentum and whipping speed into each strike, so the clash of steel was a blur to the eyes and a rolling clangour to the ears.

After a while sparring pairs reformed, and mortal samurai guards practiced more slowly and carefully against the spidrens. Kel assumed the standard samurai use of paired blades, katana in the dominant hand and shorter ko-wazikashi in the lesser, made the necessary double defence more natural to them than it seemed to her, but the asymmetry of swords against paired glaive-blades made for real difficulties as speed increased — and that was without any actual or threatened use of squirted webbing, which would not be the case in a real fight. She had brought her own swords, the Emperor's wedding-gift, and though she would never be as comfortable with them as with her glaive, assiduous practice had given her some confidence in the style. She had also been amused to find herself almost grateful to Wyldon for his old scorn at her glaive, forcing her to do so much sword-work with both hands that the necessary disciplines had come quite quickly once her muscles had become used to the different balance required. Not that she thought it would help much against spidrens, as Kravimal suddenly turned just enough to use the blade on a second leg to block his opponent's katana while one first-leg blade blocked the ko-wazikashi and the other stopped a scant inch from the man's throat.

"Yush!" Alanna's shook her head. "Rude awakening forgiven, Kel. Goddess but they're fast. And sneaky."

"Aren't they just?"

"All of that, Thayet. And they've asked if other Wangetsushima spidrens might enter Guild service, not necessarily as soldiers, so come and meet Kravimal properly."

He and his opponent had disengaged and bowed to one another, and he looked up as Kel led people across.

"Protector."

"Kravimal. A very impressive display. But let me introduce Her Majesty."

Quite versed by now in reading spidrens, Kel suspected her Mama, Dom, and Tobe interested Kravimal more than Thayet and Shinko, or even Alanna, though the Lioness's reputation was obviously alive and well on Wangetsushima. And she was sure he appreciated both her courtesy and relative ease, like all the New Hopers, with his appearance — the blades might make him an extremely formidable warrior but he was only half Quenuresh's size and a lot less bristly. He was also eyeing the swords she bore.

"Did you wish to spar, Protector?"

"After a warm-up pattern-dance, if you're willing. But you'll have to bear with me — the sword is

my second weapon, and paired swords about fifth, not that more experience seems to help with the asymmetry."

Steel teeth glinted. "Indeed. I have urged them to fight with two katanas, but they say it feels all wrong."

"Not as wrong as one of your blades through the throat."

"So I observed. And to be fair, many sensei are trying — hence the Temple's new field of styles."

Kel nodded. "So I gather. But let me get ready."

Already loose from her rather different sparring with Dom, Kel chose one of the harder warm-up dances and took herself through it smartly, feeling comfortable warmth come swiftly back to her muscles and a light sheen of sweat starting. Then she laid her glaive aside, took up her swords, and with some trepidation bowed to Kravimal and took guard.

He began with slow courtesy, letting her get the feel of each sword against his blades, and of the awkward, slightly turned stance necessary to offset the clear advantage of glaive-blade against ko-wazikashi. It could be done but impeded any counterstrike and was a constant distraction, and as soon as he began to speed up she disengaged, stepping back, and shook her head.

"There's only one way that's going to end, Kravimal — the imbalance is crippling. Let me try something else?"

He nodded assent, curiosity in his eyes, and she swapped her ko-wazikashi for her glaive, grasped one-handed at its point of balance. She was aware of indrawn Yamani breaths around her, and suppressed a grin — using a naginata one-handed went against every precept of the weapon, and she'd never done so on foot before ; but unlike Yamanis she had long used hers on horseback and was entirely comfortable with the necessary grip. And it certainly made facing Kravimal easier : with the portion of the staff in front of her hand, the blade had greater reach even than her katana, so she could revert to a squarer stance, and her utter familiarity with the angles, blocks, and deflections of glaive-blade against glaive-blade freed her mind to concentrate on the potential advantages of the wider and heavier blade of the katana against glaive-blade. For now, at least, the novelty also worked as much against Kravimal as her, and as he again began to increase the tempo she went with him, light deflections with her glaive allowing her to get more force into strikes with the katana and obliging him for the first time to concentrate on his own defence. The stance also made any attempt to use his second pair of blades very much riskier for him, as her restored balance meant she could pivot away from the slight turn he had to make, negating the advantage by putting herself out of reach of his further first-blade and enabling a lunging body-strike past the deflected second-leg blade, aiming for the gap in his mail where his leg emerged, that had him jumping back.

When they re-engaged he increased the tempo again, seeking weakness without finding it — and, she soon realised, creating a certain vulnerability of his own. Agile as he was, the six-legged stance was not one spidrens were designed to sustain, and the greater speed and force he was putting into his attack was giving him an impetus that he was in effect relying on her solid blocks to control. While he was using upward blows and she was having to bear down with blocks it wasn't enough ; but the moment he next switched to a downward strike, aiming in at her body, she converted a block with her glaive into the merest, feathered deflection, turning slightly to bring her leg inside the unbalanced lunge into which he was betrayed, and with her katana squarely blocking his other first-blade brought her glaive-point to rest a few inches in front of his nose. They were both frozen for a moment, and then she disengaged, bowing and, once he had unfolded his tucked-away joints to stand eight-square again and lift his blades back into their crown, receiving his own deeper bow.

"A valuable lesson, Protector, for which I thank you."

"And for me, Kravimal, for which I thank you also. In a real fight, though, you could use webbing as well."

He frowned. "Not from that position."

"Maybe not. But you could have dropped flat as soon as you knew yourself off-balance. My strike would probably have gone high, or glanced off your helmet, and then I'd have been left wide open to a bite, if nothing else."

Appreciation flickered in his eyes. "Perhaps. Though that is not an element of our fighting-style the Temple has yet endorsed."

She grinned. "I imagine not, though that wouldn't matter in a real fight."

"True. But I believe we must continue this most interesting conversation another time, Protector. You have attracted some attention, for you are the first to beat me, or any of us, since we came here."

Abruptly Kel became aware of the silence surrounding them, and the very many pop-eyed Yamani stares that disappeared as they offered deep bows and reappeared little changed. Thayet, Shinko, and her Mama had stopped their own sparring to watch, as had Roald, Alanna, Dom, and Tobe, and the look even in Dom's eyes made emotions flare and shudder.

"Oh glory."

But Hayato was coming forward, the glint in her eye at odds with her own formal bow.

"Keladry -sensei, my congratulations on a most astonishing exhibition, defying every rule to exquisite purpose. May I ask how you came to such one-handed mastery of your glaive?"

She returned the bow, seeking calm. "I learned to use it from horseback, Hayato-sensei. Though better equipped and mounted, we were often outnumbered during the Scanran war and the greater reach and economy of strike was an advantage I could not forego."

"Ah. Hisashi-sensei wins our bet. He saw that in your movement to suggest familiarity with a greater advantage of height even than your own stature allows."

"He is here?" Kel felt herself blush and the glint in Hayato's eyes deepened.

"He is. Please, come and allow me to introduce you."

Kravimal followed them across. The great sensei, now white-haired though still clearly very fit, was amid a group of elders, and there were other names Kel recognised, but her attention was on the old man, and offering greetings in apprentice to master she gave him the deep bow acknowledging absolute respect .

"Wrong mode entirely, Blessed Protector-sensei." He sounded cheerful. "Even in my prime I could not have done what you have just made look straightforward."

"Forgive contradiction, Hisashi-sensei, but it was entirely the correct mode. I saw you defeat Kenta-sensei here in the Year of the Horse, and have never seen the like."

That bout was still widely remembered, for after five interminable minutes of the perfect state Hisashi had somehow — and Kel still didn't have a clue — fooled his younger, larger opponent

and slithered the point of his glaive through a perfect defence — something that to the best of her knowledge had not then been done in living memory, nor again since. The old man's eyes lit up while a slight frown appeared.

"You saw that, Protector-sensei? Yet I do not … unless — in company with Princess Shinkokami and in face-paint?"

Kel grinned. "Exactly so, sensei. I couldn't have sneaked in as one of her retinue otherwise. It was the first time I understood what true mastery meant, and I am still groping towards it."

He quirked a white eyebrow. "Striding past it would seem more accurate, Protector-sensei. Besides the deep unorthodoxy of your chosen weapons mix, I saw two complete sequences invented in a first practice, one turning an attack none had yet defeated into a wholly unexpected counter-strike that would have worked against any lesser opponent, and the other most ruthlessly letting Kravimal-sama throw himself to defeat with his own weight and speed."

"Just so, Hisashi-sensei." Kravimal tilted his head eloquently. "We have been thinking in terms of two katanas to restore symmetry, but it seems we must think more inventively. The Protector not only negated the disadvantage of the asymmetry but turned it against me — blocking katana and ko-wazikashi are not so different, but blocking naginata and katana are significantly unalike."

"So I saw, Kravimal-sama." Hayato nodded. "Few, though, have such precise and light deflections as the Protector, even among sensei. I have noted it in sparring with her. Do you believe fighting from horseback has aided that mastery?"

Kel coloured again at the open praise, but made herself consider. "To some degree, sensei. In a mêlée, with hostile blades all around, one cannot afford to do more than the minimum to deflect or kill, or the next opponent will find one an easy mark. But my instruction in the sword also stressed economy and that the least deflection was just as useful as the loudest block, so I've always incorporated that into my naginata-work."

"You had some wise instructors, Protector-sensei. And yet none in the naginata, I understand, since you left Yaman?"

"There were then none in Tortall, Hisashi-sensei, and no place in the pages' training schedule for the naginata at all, though that has changed, of course."

"Most admirable. You used the Moonlight Dances?" "Every day, sensei."

"And yet were not constrained by them, as any student here would have been. All our new contacts bring much interesting instruction." His look became more serious. "None more so than your also most admirable 'Note', Protector-sensei, which I had the great pleasure and wonder of reading last night. May I ask frankly what you believe Lord Sakuyo's purpose to be in so, ah, appending himself?"

Despite her continuing embarrassment at praise from a man she revered, Kel found herself appreciating both his directness and his phrasing, and tried to answer briskly.

"I remain unsure of much, Hisashi-sensei, but Her Majesty saw quickly that his intervention makes the 'Note' not only a weapon but a practice of spiritual warfare as well as an attempt to explain it. So the question becomes the target for which that weapon and practice have been contrived — and great caution is needed, for such a practice only incidentally defeats a man. Its virtue lies in the sphere of beliefs and attitudes." He nodded and she took a breath, thinking about

the Temple of Weapons. "And though it is perhaps imprudent, to you, sensei, I will say that it seems Lord Sakuyo is not happy about the state of his kamunushi. So it might be he is concerned with what has brought them to that state, there being a limited value in treating symptoms rather than causes."

"Mmm. Interesting instruction indeed, Protector-sensei." He turned the conversation. "Tell me, if you will, were you aware of your mighty jest against the Scanrans as a form of the perfect state?"

"Gods, no." Kel was quite shocked. "It was a calculated gamble. I had to change the odds somehow."

"And yet it dismissed more than half your enemy's forces without striking any blow with steel."

"Not so, sensei. The spidrens and centaurs who took out the loyalist perimeter overnight struck many blows. They merely did so silently."

"Ah yes. And yet so many leaving the field alive has perfection in it."

"Very many others did not leave it alive, sensei. And the most of that was mechanical butchery — blazebalm, pit-traps, rotating volleys, and at the last dragonfire."

"So I understand, sensei. I did not believe your words to Lord Shoji, as they were reported to me, an exaggeration."

"Alas, no. My hands alone were on mage-keys and dragonscale, and the killing-field my cold design. I had no choice and in the same circumstances would do it again, but there was no perfection."

"I sympathise, sensei, yet you now must brook my contradiction. A siege of less than one thousand by more than seven thousands that ends in the aggressors' utter defeat, the death of their king, and the stabilisation of a long and long-violent frontier is no mere butchery."

"It felt like it, sensei, and still does, often enough. It was war, not chivalry."

"Both, I think." He was obviously aware of her discomfort and turned the conversation again. "But we keep Her Majesty and your esteemed mother waiting. Will you do me the honour of introducing me?"

Her Mama at least was sensible of that honour, and as they eventually made their way back to their quarters in search of breakfast Kel described, with Shinko's help, the profound respect all felt for Hisashi-sensei. Thayet had seen and done enough glaive-work to appreciate the tale, but still shook her head.

"It does sound astonishing, Kel, but so were you. My heart was in my mouth."

"Mine too, sweeting, though I'm coming to trust Kravimal-sama and I've seen how hard you've worked with the double swords. It was all so fast."

"And mine three, Kel, though I could just about follow what you were doing, if I squinted." Alanna clapped her cheerfully on the shoulder. "Greased lightning came in a poor second. What did … Hisashi, was it? want when you were steered over there?"

"My take on the 'Note', mostly, which he said he read last night, and what he called Lord Sakuyo's reasons for appending himself."

Alanna grinned. "Nice one. And you told him?"

"Only what I've said to you, Thayet, and the King, but boiled down. His Nibs must be after causes, not symptoms, but who knows how exactly, even if the who seems clear."

Thayet shook her head again. "Oddly, I followed that, Kel, but I have a sense you are acting, even if you say you aren't."

"In small, clear things, Thayet — stopping interference with his book is plain enough, and though this morning went better that I'd expected, so is practical help in getting people more at ease with the spidrens."

"Practical …. If you say so, Kel, though I doubt that's what people are busy reporting just now.

Had you practiced using your glaive like that?"

"Not really, but the ko -wazikashi was hopeless so I had to try something. And it is practical, Thayet — the Temple of Weapons was already trying two katanas, so it's not that much odder."

"Especially when it worked so well." Alanna grinned. "But Thayet's right too, Kel. Even with all these Yamani masks you could tell people were shocked silly when you scored on Kravimal, so they'll all be left very thoughtful at least."

Kel shrugged. "Can't help that, Alanna. And it seems about time someone was."

Back in their private room, Kel found she had some soothing to do, Dom having been more exercised than he'd let on in public by the speed of her exchanges with Kravimal and the risk of using live blades without armour. He blew out a long breath and mimed a palpitating heart.

"I know you do it with your glaive all the time, love, but not against such a skilled opponent, and you say yourself you're only a novice with the katana. But skilled or no, if I saw any men of ours pushing it that hard without armour I'd have them scouring it for a week. Not that any of them could move half as fast."

Kel squirmed, thinking she might well do as much herself. "Maybe. Alright, yes. But I was feeling good, I saw Kravimal sparring yesterday, and you could see for yourself just how fine his control is against the mortal samurai. I am sorry for worrying you, though."

Dom nodded. "Just be careful, love, please. The other thing is that Button says the gods were watching."

"Gods plural? Not just Lord Sakuyo?"

Button extruded its head. "Laughing god, also war god."

"And blind god," Ebony added.

"Huh. I suppose if some change is due Shakith would be interested, though I'd rather discounted that when Irnai chose not to come, but I don't know why Lord Mithros should care. Unless he was just enjoying the fight."

Dom expression was pained, but Tobe, who had been listening quietly, distracted them both by giving her one of his old-man looks. "You did it because you wanted a proper work-out, didn't you, Ma? In case you have to fight someone for real."

She sighed. "Yes, partly, Tobe. I'm happier for one, certainly. But I also hoped doing well against Kravimal might make a real fight less likely."

"Warning off would-be challengers, you mean?"

"Yes. But I have a bad feeling Lord Fujiwara's been pushed so deep into his corner he's determined to reassert himself somehow, and no amount of warning will help. And there's nothing I can do about that, so I'd really like to concentrate on the pickles today, for Yuki's sake as well as the trade value."

"Good luck with that, love. But I'm game to try."

Dom's irony was borne out at breakfast, where Kel's nephew Katsumi and nieces Akemi and Akiko, bracketing him in age, seemed unable to stop staring at her. Toshuro and Patricine had had an elder son who had died of a childhood fever, and Kel thought the responsibility thrust on Katsumi as the heir had weighed him down. She'd barely had a chance to talk to him on this visit, but he seemed an overly solemn child ; her nieces, though, were in her limited experience inveterate chatterboxes, and their silent, wide-eyed regard was disconcerting.

"What is it, Akemi-chan? You all look like owls." She received only flushes, and Toshuro sighed.

"I apologise for them, Keladry-sensei, but I must say I have some sympathy. We have just heard that you defeated Kravimal-sama this morning, and having seen him in action we cannot quite take it in."

"It was only sparring."

"But the spidrens are so fast, Blessed Aunt."

Kel just managed not to laugh, though her Mama's twitching lips did not help. "Mmmm. I really don't think I can be a blessed aunt, Katsumi-chan. Keladry-oba is fine, or obasan in public, if you must."

"Obasensei would be more accurate, Kel." Patricine's eyes were bright, and Kel flapped a hand at her.

"And more ridiculous than ever. In any case, Katsumi-chan, yes, spidrens are fast, but many sensei could match them for speed. And if you've seen them sparring with the guards, you know it was imbalance of blades that was the real problem." He nodded, cautiously. "So I fought with katana and naginata to get round that, and Kravimal-sama had to deal with a new weapons mix. I doubt I'd be so lucky again."

"You used your naginata one-handed?" Akemi's eyes were even wider, shock breaking her unaccustomed silence. "Our teacher says we must never release our grips."

"Your teacher is wise, but has perhaps not considered fighting with the naginata on horseback. And even on foot, Akemi-chan , there are times when one-handed can mean greater reach than an opponent expects. You need to be strong, though."

"Can you show us?"

At least the honorifics were being abated. "Surely. Be ready tomorrow before dawn and come with me for training at the Guards' Compound. Have you met Kravimal-sama properly? Then we can do that too." They all looked uneasy at the idea, and Kel wagged a mild finger. "I know spidrens make people uneasy, but have you considered how they feel about it? For Kravimal-sama and his troop, until less than a year ago meeting a mortal meant a fight to the

death. Now they dwell here, the only spidrens among a hundred thousand mortals. How would you feel among a hundred thousand spidrens?"

Eyes went even wider at the thought.

"But they have all those blades!"

"And you can have your naginata among the spidrens, Akiko-chan. Does it make you feel so very much safer?" She let them think about it. "All I'm saying is that in dealing with immortals do try to consider their point of view. If you can endure his accent and ignore his mode, Neal-sama can tell you about our first meeting with Quenuresh-sensei, who is much larger and older than Kravimal-sama, and a mage. Most terrifying, I assure you. Yet she has become a good friend, and sits on my council at New Hope. She also saved my life, so while my stomach still finds her appearance unsettling, it would be too rude of me to let it show."

Patricine grinned at her. "Easier said than done, Kel. Though I have to say having met Quenuresh-sensei at your wedding was a great help when Kravimal-sama and his troop arrived." Her look became both rueful and thoughtful. "And all your advice seems sound, however unorthodox. When we got back here, you know, New Hope seemed a fantastic dream we'd woken up from, and you could see people not really believing the stories we had to tell. But I hadn't quite realised how much of it is you, rather than the place. It's extremely impressive."

"It's just common sense to me, Patricine." Kel shrugged uneasily. "Immortals are here to stay, and besides it being ever so much easier getting along with them than fighting them, they're extremely useful allies and most of them very pleasant and interesting beings. What are you all doing today?"

"Toshuro and I must attend Their Majesties, who are visiting the Imperial Armoury and Samurai Training School. The children can come if they wish, or stay within the Daidairi."

"I was thinking they might come with us to suzukema-ichi, if they liked. Kitten's coming, and she's persuaded Amiir'aan and Ventriaju. Perhaps Amourta too, though she and Cloestra had flying plans."

Patricine looked at Toshuro, who shrugged delicately.

"But you have business, I thought, Keladry-sensei?"

"I do, Toshuro-sama, but with Tobe and the immortal younglings coming, it's no problem to take them."

"Well, if you're sure, Kel." Patricine eyed her children. "Katsumi's usually good, but the girls can be a handful."

"I imagine I'll cope."

It was nevertheless a larger party that set out than Kel had quite anticipated. Yuki had persuaded Keiichi to come (though Kel suspected an imperial command also), while St'aara, Var'istaan, and Kuriaju were sticking close to their younglings, or just interested, and Cloestra and Amourta had promised to meet them there after exercising, so the footmen with their perch were tagging along ; there were also two Tortallan servants carrying samples Kel would need. With nine adults and four children as well as six immortals they made quite a convoy, and not entirely to Kel's surprise Kravimal and five of his troop were waiting in the First Court.

"Given the observers yesterday, Protector, it seems wiser to be safe than sorry."

"Of course, Kravimal. Thank you." She introduced Neal and Yuki, and then, not letting them

hang back, Katsumi, Akemi, and Akiko, who made nervous bows. She rested a hand on Akiko's trembling shoulder, squeezing approval.

"They'll all be with me tomorrow morning, as they don't entirely believe me about using the naginata one-handed."

"You are in good company, younglings. I was most surprised myself, and some of the sensei are still in shock, I believe." He gave Kel a dry look. "And their teacher of the naginata may have many things to say about the idea."

Kel grinned. "I bet. But I was going to ask Hayato-sensei if she might have a word. All else aside, if you're learning the naginata and to ride, there's no reason not to combine them."

Their way lay straight down Suzaku -ojialmost to the city gate, and once they left the Daidairi the spidrens took flanking positions and became watchfully silent. Kitten's cheerful stream of chatter, with Tobe's friendly questions to Katsumi, drew all the younglings into a group, and ignoring Yuki's look Kel and Dom took a moment to thank the trailing footmen carrying the stormwings' perch, who both seemed shocked and dropped their eyes. Kel sighed.

"May I ask how you came to be chosen for this?"

After a mutual stare one nervously took the lead. "We were deemed strong enough, Blessed Protector-sensei."

"And brave enough? Stormwings can come as a shock."

"Duty is duty, Blessed."

"Always. But it has struck me how well you have done. Having them clean does help, of course."

It took a moment, but curiosity won.

"Clean, Blessed?"

"Oh yes. They are making a great effort to live with mortals."

A condensed explanation took them several hundred yards down Suzaku-oji despite their slow progress, and intrigued both footmen enough to put them a little more at their ease. Besides the courtesy that satisfied Kel the more for its unorthodoxy here, the story was sure to be passed on, and had at least the virtue of accuracy — not a negligible thing, as the bolder footman showed when he hesitantly asked Dom if he did not resent the immortals for his injured leg. Dom blinked, and spoke carefully.

"Forgive me, I may have misunderstood. Why should I resent any immortal for my injury?"

"Was it not an immortal that … ?"

"Certainly not. Whoever told you immortals had anything to do with it?"

There didn't seem to be any clear answer, but when Dom had been seen to limp and use a cane the rumour had apparently circulated at such speed that Kel suspected malicious intent, and felt a new spark of irritation. Dom must too, but his voice didn't show it.

"Well, it's not true at all. I was wounded by a Scanran axe — a fallen man I thought was dead, and foolishly stepped over — a year before I ever went to New Hope. And I'd count many of our immortals as good friends, I assure you, and all as most helpful residents."

"Perhaps you might both ensure truth is circulated as much as false rumour?" Kel chose words carefully. "It may be overheated imagination, of course, but such lies are often born of unfounded fear. And you have seen for yourselves that if caution and courtesy are needed — most properly for beings who have lived for centuries — there is nothing to fear."

Kel didn't know how much good it might do, but was certain ignoring servants as if they weren't there was as silly and dangerous as it was rude. She was telling a mildly perturbed Yuki so, not for the first time, Keiichi listening with a wry look, when Kravimal called, voice wary but not alarmed.

"Protector, there is one who asks to speak with you."

She went forward past the knot of children, Dom at her side with Keiichi behind, and saw an elderly kamunushi in Sakuyan white. From his dusty robes and stout staff she thought he must be rural, either from one of the villages down river that supplied Heian-Kyó with rice and vegetables or on a longer pilgrimage, but he had been in the city long enough to have acquired what looked horribly like a copy of her book, tucked under his arm. She offered a short bow.

"How may I assist you, Reverence?"

Deepset eyes considered her with uncertainty. "Forgive me, my Lady, I hoped to speak to the one whose book Lord Sakuyo so strangely blesses."

"You do so, Reverence."

Uncertainty bloomed into shocked surprise, and to her annoyed distress he dropped to his knees.

"Forgive me, Blessed. I did not know you were so young."

"There is nothing to forgive, Reverence. And please rise." Ignoring Kravimal's slight hiss, she stepped forward and more or less hauled the old man to his feet. "To enjoy his favour is not to deserve his dignities, Reverence. What would you say?"

Visibly disconcerted by her strangeness, he nevertheless pulled himself together, holding out the book, and spoke with plaintive simplicity.

"I am Katashi, Blessed, who has served him as best I can all my life, yet seen his First Temple lose its way, putting pride and fear before laughter. Now he names you his favourite daughter, Blessed, though you are of another people. Tell me, I beg you, how we may regain his favour?"

Suddenly aware of just how many ears were straining to listen, Kel knew in a heartbeat both that an amused Lord Sakuyo was among them, and that direct appeal was not what was needed.

"I cannot believe you have ever lost it, Reverence, however his Temple may fare." And yet. "But tell me, what did you feel when you read Lord Sakuyo's words?"

"Great amazement, Blessed, and great wonder."

"Which is all very well, Reverence, but what of great laughter? For all the lives that rode on it, what we did at New Hope was a jest, and besides lending us his aid he blessed the account of it with another, most exquisite jest of his own. Respect must be proper, but solemnity cannot be so. And it is but wisdom to laugh at his jests, as well as our pleasure when they are so fine."

His expression made her grin.

"I know, Reverence. I wasn't too amused at the time, either, I do assure you. But he has since

taught me better, so let your devotions be crowned with laughter at his most consummate skill in placing cats among pigeons."

He might be solemn but he was no fool, and his eyes glinted.

"Easier when you are the cat, Blessed, than when you feel yourself a frightened pigeon."

Many listeners murmured understanding agreement, and Kel grinned again.

"Better, Reverence, much better. And truly, whatever he may be about, it will have the form of a great jest in which we are all most satisfactorily like pigeons. Yet as Honoured Kumo knew, still we must laugh, if we would laugh with him."

He nodded ruefully. "Wisdom, Blessed, wisdom. You are gracious to an old man."

"He too has that form, Reverence. How should I be less? But I must excuse myself now, for we have business at suzukema-ichi, and many wait on me."

Kel wouldn't have minded having a stormwing handy to tell her what the crowd was feeling, but a glance showed them still circling high above and she thought on the whole her auditors had approved of her words. When they rejoined the other adults, a suspiciously demure Keiichi agreed.

"That was well judged, Blessed obasensei."

Kel stifled a snort and replied in Tortallan. "You dare, Keiichi. Me giving anyone advice about laughing is a divine irony in itself."

"Or the point, Keladry-chan." Yuki also spoke in Tortallan, but her voice was shaded with seriousness. "When we arrived Domitan-chan felt the tension in the city, but already that is changing — expectation and worry, yes, but also a more joyous waiting for his jest to break upon us. Do you not sense it?"

"I don't know that I do, Yuki. Dom?"

"Hard to say, love." He looked around. "This crowd's so different from the one on that first day. What are you thinking, Yuki?"

"That Keladry-chan was his jest in Tortall, and still is."

Kel rolled her eyes at Dom. "Meaning what, Yuki?"

"Carry on."

"Gah."

"But she's exactly right, Kel." Neal had been stressed by such alien surroundings, and even, Kel thought, slightly abashed to realise his Yamani accent really was as horrible as Yuki had told him, but the sound of Tortallan seemed to have revived him and his eyes were teasing. "The last thing Tortall thought it wanted or needed was a lady knight, but they had to lump it and soon came to like it. And the last thing most Yamanis think they want or need is a Tortallan Blessed to make them sort themselves out, but …"

"Mmph. So you think I'm supposed to lead you all off a cliff in the fog, again?" "Yes."

Neil and Yuki spoke in chorus, and half-way through their hasty and embarrassing explanation to Keiichi, Kel threw up her hands.

"Well, right now I'm leading you to the pickle market, Neal, which is a temple of vegetables, so maybe there's justice in all this somewhere, after all."

Their laughter sparked smiles in the crowd, and drew Kitten, asking what the joke was. While Dom tried to explain, Kel found Keiichi murmuring at her side.

"I believe I agree with my sister, Keladry-sensei. You modestly claim ignorance and uncertainty, but your response to any event is very sure-footed, with high and low, hostile and kindly. And she is certainly right that the atmosphere has changed in the days you have been here, as deep fear tips into high anticipation."

"But what was so feared, Keiichi-sama?"

He shrugged minutely, hands opening. "At worst, open warfare between Imperial and Fujiwara forces, for defiance is reaching a point His Imperial Majesty cannot long allow to continue. He would almost certainly win, but it would be bad."

At least someone was speaking openly, and thoughts turned in Kel's head. "Is that why he is keeping so aloof, Keiichi-sama? Letting me take point?"

"In part, I think, but no-one is entirely sure, Keladry-sensei. Certainly he is enjoying Lord Fujiwara's discomfiture, and was greatly pleased by events yesterday. Had he moved against the errant kamunushi directly, Lord Fujiwara would have had to defend his control or concede a further substantial diminution. But you, with Lord Sakuyo's compliance, have delivered a bloodless victory."

"Compliance!"

"So I saw. You asked, and he granted, most definitively. As that venerable kamunushi just now understood very clearly." He gave her a sly glance. "Neal-chan was not speaking idly. He has a theory, you know."

"Neal has any number of theories, most of them absurd." Kel sighed. "Though not quite all. What's this one?"

"Mmm. He was not entirely concise in expressing it, but what it comes down to, I believe, is that he thinks Lord Sakuyo has found in you not merely a tool but a partner in great jesting, and is the more amused by your understandable exasperation."

Kel was silent for a moment, digesting this, and blew out a breath. "Perhaps. But what exasperates me, Keiichi-sama , is being kept in the dark. I dare say he has his reasons, as His Imperial Majesty must, but it's all a bit too like what the King kept doing, expecting me to play the goat and spring his ambushes without ever giving me a decent brief." Her voice flattened. "And putting the least capable in the greatest danger."

He followed her gaze to the children and immortal younglings.

"Yet they are strong and well-defended, Keladry-sensei."

"And children, Keiichi. For all their immortal precocity, neither Kitten nor Amourta is yet one hundredth of their parents' age. Think about that. And you can tell the Emperor that if there is any threat to them, all bets are off. Do you know about the men who were shadowing the immortals yesterday?"

"I do. One was an imperial observer, the other remains unknown. But we have a welcoming party, I see."

They had walked almost the whole length of Suzaku-oji, turning onto Hachijo-oji, the last cross-street before the city gate, where the pickle market occupied the whole block between Mibu-oji and Omiya-oji. Kel had explained in her letter that she would be wanting to show kin and friends the market's splendours before conducting business, and her appointment with the Master of the Market and representatives of some of the great trading concerns wasn't for more than an hour yet

— but Keiichi was right that a substantial delegation was waiting, led by what must be the Master himself. Though smells were stirring memories and the additional formalities were a bore, she let her polite Yamani mask drop into place and went forward with Dom and Tobe.

The Master's speech of welcome was fulsome but not obsequious, and though nerves showed in his eyes he coped quite well with the various immortals, even when Cloestra and Amourta glided into land on the perch the footmen held. Not entirely mischievously, Kel added Kravimal and his troop to her roster of introductions, and saw the Master's relief when it became clear only Kravimal himself would accompany them inside, the others being posted at the various entrances to ensure that none bearing weapons entered while the visitors were there.

Then it was time for a guided tour, and though she would have liked just to wander with family and friends the Master's exact knowledge was helpful. Though it went against common sense, the market was not divided by merchant but by type of pickle, with parallel aisles devoted to salt, vinegar, sugar, vinegar and sugar, sake, sake lees, mirin, soy, miso, beers, malted rice, rice bran, and hot mustard ; each aisle progressing from the common greens, roots, and fruit, through pickles with dried fish and tentacle-fish, or roe, to the expensive specialties with unusual combinations or rare ingredients. With the help of bread and water to clear the mouth between times there was a lot of sampling, even by an eye-rolling Neal, and if Kitten's interest in the hot-mustard pickles was predictable, the ogres' unanimous approval of red ginger in sake lees was an interesting surprise. New Hope didn't produce enough sake for Yuki to have made any such pickles, but here it was a practical use of a plentiful by-product and among the cheapest, which was handy.

Kel herself was pleased to try different merchants' umeboshi, having always loved the tart sweetness of the pickled plums, and mentally marked two as especially good. Akemi and Akiko were helpful, and clearly already knowledgeable cooks, with pithy comments about one merchant's use of cheap oil. Kel's business interest, though, was largely in the expensive specialities : New Hope could not hope to export in volume, having limited supplies, but with the way the food they grew was blessed by the Green Lady, and Yuki's gift for combinations, the pickles she did make were exceptional, and Kel was honest enough to know that there was curiosity value to factor in as well. But the prices startled her, for the finest rare pickles were selling for entirely exorbitant sums, and she expressed surprise to the Master.

"Most buyers are high nobles, of course, Blessed Protector-sensei, but as it is also they who produce and control the rare ingredients, it is quite a circular trade. And lesser families will indulge occasionally, when there is something special to celebrate, or a great gift is needed."

That was worth knowing, and she thanked him politely. Given the prices she wouldn't have dared to ask for samples, but the vendors were so eager to offer them to the Blessed and her entourage that they were able to try quite a few, to the children's delight, and she caught Yuki's eye with a very satisfied feeling. They were all interesting, and some were very good indeed, but rarity and fancy reputation didn't always mean true quality, and there wasn't one she would have traded for Yuki's best. This bit of her schedule at least was going to work out nicely, which made a pleasant change, but she schooled herself to her blandest calm before asking Neal what it felt like to have a gold noble's worth of vegetables in his mouth. Yuki's shukusen had snapped up long before he had finished spluttering.

"Mockery! Is there no end on it? You did warn me, Kel, but this place is a madness all the same. And what in Tortall is daikon anyway?"

"Winter radish. Very tasty. And it may be madness but it's going to make Yuki a lot richer."

"It is?"

"Oh yes. And it's time to set about it."

Unsurprisingly, even the Master had no office big enough for the whole party, but he did have an official residence, only a few minutes' walk away, with a pleasant garden into which they could squeeze. Tea was served, and after polite small-talk and more curious conversation with immortals, the Master, flanked by the heads of three great merchant houses, asked how they might further serve the Blessed.

"There are two matters, Master, kind sirs. You will be aware, I hope, that some Yamani pilgrims have already visited New Hope and Drachifethe? Well, even before yesterday's happy events we had anticipated that more will come, and have plans to establish wayhouses along the route from Mindelan, as well as congenial quarters at New Hope and Dragontown. But with the considerable differences between Yaman and Tortall, some flavour of home would doubtless be welcome to weary travellers. And as you have seen, our immortals greatly appreciate some of your products, so it seems we should be planning a considerable increase in our imports."

Serious new customers were a joy to any merchant, and if pilgrim numbers could not be predicted with any certainty they had no more doubt than Kel that very many would wish to come, and a fair few do so. The quantities ogres and apprentice dragons could consume were also music to their ears, and her income from her Maids and silver mines already sufficient, even with the other needs of New Hope, for Kel to be able to agree without blinking to a substantial supply. And having got them all into a relieved and satisfied mood, she could move on.

"The other thing is our own pickles. You may know that our soil has a divine blessing, but not what that does to the taste of the vegetables we grow, the oils we press, and the sake Lady Yukimi distils. Nor of what happens when she combines those vegetables with specifically Tortallan ingredients, especially some of our wild berries and hard fruits."

Kel could see Yuki was nervous, but her presentation was smooth and to Kel's amusement she had recruited all the younglings, mortal and immortal. The servants brought forward the carefully made cases of finely petrified wood, each containing half-a-dozen matching sample jars, and Yuki solemnly explained the ingredients as she invited the Master and merchants to try each one — red cabbage and apple in sake, winter potatoes and ginger in a light oil pressed from a northern variety of wild nut, a truly surprising combination of river-fish and cabbage in the lightly fermented juice of a rather astringent dark red berry, and more. Children and immortal younglings took turns proffering open jars, and if Katsumi, Akemi, and Akiko looked more than a little taken aback to find themselves at work with immortals, they had also overcome their earlier unease. The culmination was a mix Yuki had only thought of just before leaving New Hope for Queenscove, and had had to leave to Kel and Fanche to oversee — onion and ginger in fermented honey — and long before that the Master and the merchants had passed through astonishment to bewildered culinary bliss.

"We lack the facilities to produce in any great quantity, and some of what we do make will of course be for our own use or sale to pilgrims. But we wondered if there might perhaps be a market here for such surplus as we may have."

After a long moment in which the Yamanis stared at one another, the Master met her gaze and to

her surprised delight broke into an admiring laugh.

"If there might perhaps — you have a gift for understatement, Blessed Protector-sensei. And whatever the divine aid, Blessed Lady Yukimi has a gift for pickling to make us all blush. Not a one that is not superb." He gave Yuki a seated bow, others following suit, and she went so red she had to whip up her shukusen, making him smile some more. "Your modesty is misplaced, my Lady. And this puts our agreement about the bulk trade in a very different light. What had you in mind, Blessed?"

The two trades might be offset, and there were potential advantages to that, but Kel also wanted income for New Hope, and for Yuki, saw no reason Yamani purchasers wealthy enough to pay the existing prices for specialities shouldn't provide it, and said so. But she also had a curious condition.

"Let us be very clear, Master, kind sirs. Truly, Lady Yukimi's pickles are superb, and will command their prices, yet some of the interest will not be from those with discriminating tastes but on account of Lord Sakuyo's and the Green Lady's dealings with New Hope — and I do not care to trade on any god's favour without due care. So for every nine jars you buy, we will give you a tenth ; and for every nine you sell, one must be given away in Lord Sakuyo's name to a family that could not afford it, drawn randomly by lot. Call it his tithe, if you will, bringing joy that cannot be expected. The administrative costs of that you will absorb, and for our part, if His Imperial Majesty has no objection, I will sponsor a shrine to the Green Lady, whose blessing our soil enjoys, here, in the lower city, as her tithe."

As she was speaking Kel had a sense that she had for once perhaps managed to surprise Lord Sakuyo, but if so he remained silent. She had certainly surprised the Master and merchants, but after a long moment he nodded thoughtfully.

"A most interesting condition, Blessed, with commerce as well as piety to recommend it. If the total supply can reach three to four thousand jars, a daily draw for that tithe will attract many people." The merchants were nodding vigorously but the Master moved his hands ambiguously. "I must wonder, though, if Lord Sakuyo's high kamunushi might be concerned by such an innovation."

Kel kept her smile austere. "Just now I doubt they would say so, Master, but should such a concern be expressed later I would suggest you refer the matter directly to the High One, and invite him to make his pleasure known. He has, I believe, run a trifle short of patience with those who do not care to hear his laughter. Which reminds me …"

She had not wanted to start the meeting with such a blunt reminder, but now presented the Master with one of the copies of her book that she'd carried off from the printers yesterday, in another beautifully petrified box from the variety she'd brought with her against just such needs. Once he realised what it was he gave her a wondering look, and she returned a fuller but rueful smile.

"You'll find what you want at the very end, Master, but do please take time to read the whole of the 'Note', for Lord Sakuyo's words are specific to their context, and a joke on me as well as everyone else. And I think you are a man to appreciate his last line."

"I shall of course read all, Blessed."

"Then you will learn a great deal I hope you will never need to know about defensive fortification, Master, and how it may be improved with immortal aid. It is spiritual warfare that Lord Sakuyo seems to have adopted with some relish, though to what end exactly none yet know."

She waited while he found and read the divine paragraph, the merchants leaning in to read it too,

then nodded to Kitten. The dragonet was inordinately proud of her own paragraph, and delighted to point it out, along with Diamondflame's, but was also scrupulous in pointing out those by Dom, Neal, Yuki, and Kuriaju. Kel had found it useful to underline the multiple authorship of the 'Note', and though she disliked the way she had to be central to the story she was grateful to Yuki and the immortals for their willingness to field inevitable questions. All had seen as well as heard his public manifestations, and if Yuki was reverent, immortals were wonderfully matter-of-fact. Kitten also had her usual disapproving commentary on foolish beliefs about dragons, but added a twist.

When Kel and Dom and I went to the Dragonlands to arrange for the other dragons to come as apprentices, all thought her dragon joke very funny as well as just, and it was. I wish I had seen it, and not just the laughing god's painting of it, though I must say that is very good. But it worked so well because Scanrans had such silly ideas, while here many people seem surprised that dragons really exist at all. It is very odd, and mortal beliefs very confusing.

"Ah, yes, indeed." The Master took a deep breath. "They do tend to be, even for mortals, Lady Skysong. And it is many lives of men since any of your kind honoured us by visiting as you do."

But you remember us more accurately than Scanrans, as the ryuujin shows. I still cannot decide what that dragon should be called.

She lapsed into a thoughtful silence, distracted by the problem, and the Master's wide eyes met Kel's.

"You visited the Dragonlands, Blessed?"

"Dom and I did, yes. On our honeymoon, actually, though as Kit says there was some Guild business to fit in as well." It was too good an exit-line to pass up, and Kel smiled, gathering herself. "But we have taken up too much of your time and hospitality already. Do please keep the sample cases. And may I expect your agents at New Hope soon after our return?"

She could, and they took their leave amid far too much bowing.

Deaf to protests that there were more important things they should be doing, Kel and Dom spent the afternoon looking after the twins and listening to children's wide-ranging and increasingly easy conversations with immortals. The lack of politics was delightful, but couldn't last, for the evening agenda was a private dinner at which Jonathan and Thayet were the hosts, and the imperial family their guests. It was a peculiar arrangement, given that the guests' staff were cooking and serving, but it was a convention of diplomacy during such visits ; Kel herself had arranged for the Council of Eight (as it then was) to do as much during the negotiations at New Hope. It would also have given His Imperial Majesty ample opportunity to speak to her discreetly, had he so wished, but by this stage Kel didn't expect him to do anything of the sort, and she wasn't disappointed.

Prince Taikyuu's presence, though, meant he and Tobe could resume their conversation about horses, beginning with the Emperor's pangare bays and the Prince's own mounts but soon extending to Peachblossom, Alder, and Hoshi. Horse terminology had been one of the ways Kel had first taught Tobe Yamani, while they groomed Peachblossom together, and after listening for a moment she was happy to leave them to it, but found herself politely cornered by Empress Reiko and a brace of attendant ladies.

Although it had all happened before Kel first came to Yaman with her parents, there had been many admiring stories of Lady Reiko noh Minamoto's resilience and general conduct when the

Emperor's pointed choice of her as a bride had convulsed society and politics. Since then she had been, while not secluded, distinctly reclusive, and Kel could only remember even seeing her twice before tonight ; certainly they had only ever spoken when her Mama had been honoured for her defence of the swords, and that no more than the briefest formal exchange. But the woman who faced Kel now had sharp intelligence and wry humour in her eyes, and despite the rice-powder mask it was clear that standing firmly back from disputatious politics did not mean any lack of understanding. She had evidently also been listening to her son's conversation, and there was pleased approval in her voice at Kel's similar care as well as surprisingly direct address in the intimate mode.

"Taikyuu often lacks companionship, inevitably, so it is nice for him to have someone to whom he can speak less guardedly."

The absence of any honorific was a pleasant change, and Kel nodded.

"And for Tobe, my Empress, though with all the orphans at New Hope he hasn't lacked peers in the same way. It is not only war that is hardest on children."

"No indeed, though it is my most earnest hope Taikyuu will be spared that, as I have been but you and your son have not. Have the children recovered from the terrors of the siege?"

That was a question very few people ever thought to ask, and Kel's opinion of the Empress rose further.

"Mostly, I'm glad to say. All were of course refugees, and more than half survivors of Blayce's kidnap, so they were already most resilient children, and all under twelve were confined to the cave system during the action." Kel sighed. "I did what I could to spare them, but they still saw far too much, including the killing field of the roadway before it was cleared, so we have our share of nightmares to contend with. Peace and hard work have helped, and I believe Lord Gainel sometimes causes them to wake when their dreams are too full of memories, as he once did for me."

Eyes widened slightly. "He did? That is not in any tale I have heard."

"Few know, it not being a tale I much care to tell, but yes, after … I first met the Black God."

"First met?"

That wasn't the usual response either, and despite the vileness of her memories, even now, Kel found herself again impressed.

"Yes. He also attended the treaty dedication, and the gods' crossing of Drachifethe."

"Ah. I had heard of the dedication, but the accounts Eitaro brought back of what happened at the bridge were most confusing."

"As events were when they happened, my Empress. But then, they were not mortal business, and our presence during them incidental."

"Hmm. Except that, forgive me, without you there would have been no bridge for dragons to help build or gods to cross."

"Even so." Kel shrugged. "The Graveyard Hag said the bridge wasn't even in the mortal realms when they all crossed it, however it might have seemed to be. Or perhaps we were all somewhere else for a bit. I confess I've given up worrying about things like that. It gets one nowhere."

She was actually enjoying this conversation, though the subject usually bored her, because very few interlocutors ever just accepted what she said — let alone what she didn't ; the Empress did both.

"I imagine not, Keladry-chan. Yet you seem quite at ease with very many gods."

That chan was interesting, and a delicate invitation. Kel considered the Empress, and decided she didn't mind being franker than usual.

"I wasn't for a long time, my Empress, as I'm sure you can imagine. But the Godborn has become a close friend, and though she of course honours her parents she not unreasonably draws the line at worshipping them." Imperial lips quirked and Kel let a smile show. "Quite so. Our Mithran priests find her attitude most unsettling, but as Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady don't care in the least worrying about it seems entirely pointless. I've also come to find it quite refreshing, I must confess. And while I was of course entirely astonished and most unsettled myself when gods first began to manifest at New Hope, one must be practical. My brother Anders thought last year that I'd been pushed about by them so much I'd gained a sense of their rhythm, and perhaps that was true." Kel spread her hands in the universal gesture. "But what they — or just Lord Sakuyo — want now, my Empress, I have no idea beyond the obvious, that he was unhappy to find his fine jest so slighted by his own kamunushi."

That received a sharp nod. "Indeed. They were extremely impious, but you have taken most wonderful care of that, Keladry-chan, as my husband and I were delighted to learn." The painted face somehow became blander. "Lord Hidetaki has somewhat recovered, I understand, but still keeps to his house while he digests his shock."

"Or confronts his conscience, yes. But hiding won't help him, my Empress, however understandable, though penitence might. I believe, though I cannot know, that Lord Sakuyo is more exasperated with a foolish lack of humour than angry with impiety."

The Empress took a deep breath and lowered her voice.

"Let us hope so. Forgive my bluntness, Keladry-chan, but has the High One spoken to you?"

"Not lately, nor about this. Nor to your husband, I take it, save perhaps in the rumoured dream?"

"Just so. We have prayed much, but to no avail. If we only knew what he wanted. It is most vexing."

"Tell me, my Empress. I believe it amuses the gods to see us all blundering about in the dark, and resenting it does no good at all. But I imagine we'll get there in the end, at Edo if not before."

"You believe he will manifest?"

"It seems likely. Still …" Kel hesitated. This was dangerous territory, but if the gods left you to make the running it was wise to do so, up to a point, at least. "Forgive presumption, my Empress, but my experience is that mortals must deal with mortal problems. What drew the gods to New Hope was remnants of Uusoae's chaos and the Timeway. I just managed to make an answer to our Scanran problem a part of events in a way they were willing to endorse. The dragons too, whose elders see the Timeway as clearly as gods. But I know of nothing here to prompt such interventions, so unless that is merely gaijin ignorance … ?" If it was the Empress wasn't saying, and Kel shrugged. "Then it is, I fear, up to us to find a way forward of which the gods approve, to amuse Lord Sakuyo on his feast-day."

"I hear you, Keladry-chan, though I cannot see how any jest can help where two lifetimes of

effort have yet to succeed."

Kel thought the Empress might have said more, but an attendant touched her hand.

"Food is to be served and you are waited on, my Lady."

Of necessity she went, and Kel in turn extricated Dom from a conversation with Yuki's parents, receiving a grateful squeeze of the hand.

"In your debt, love. Keiichi was helping translate for us but got commandeered by Alanna." Dom blew out a breath. "Yuki's parents seem as nice as you'd expect, and delighted about her pickles, but my Yamani is not up to detailed tales of Neal's childhood."

"They won't have minded. Your accent's much better than his." "Not hard."

Kel's grin faded as they came to the elaborately laid and decorated table. The Emperor's Tortallan was as thin as Jonathan's and Thayet's Yamani, so they had to get by in Common which, however useful, lacked nuance ; and which the Emperor in any case understood better than he spoke, unified Yaman not having had much need of it outside trade and diplomacy. Her parents had been facilitating translation when needed, but as Jonathan had wanted her in range they'd been shifted sideways and the burden now fell to her. For a while she had little to do, save an occasional word, while they discussed the Copper Isles and information Alanna had been able to add to the report the new Yamani ambassador had sent ; the detail was new to Kel, and the account of the war against the Rittevons that Alianne had helped co -ordinate was fascinating — but inevitably included darkings, which intrigued the Emperor, and Jonathan gave her a sly look.

"It was how we knew about poor Dunevon's murder so quickly, Daichi. I didn't know young Alianne had any darkings, but Keladry did, somehow or other, and when she heard from Eitaro and Takemahou about those mage-meddled winds she used her own darkings to get a direct report."

"I see. But …" He switched to Yamani. "I confess, Protector, I am most curious as to how you came by these so useful creatures."

The Emperor was maintaining his polite distance, and much as she respected him, Kel had no illusions that he would use darkings any more responsibly than Jonathan. She kept her voice bland, exploiting the very flatness of Common and forcing him back to it.

"Some volunteered, my Emperor, having heard of New Hope through Lady Skysong. They were bored in the Dragonlands, and the dragons would not hold them against their will."

"So I heard, though to be bored in the Dragonlands seems … I don't mean rude. Okogamashii."

Kel flicked into Tortallan for Jonathan and Thayet before reverting to Common. "Presumptuous with a sense of absurdity, sire. And having visited them, not really, my Emperor. I may not describe them in any detail, but they are a place more of thought than action, and darkings are young beings. They wanted more doing and less talking."

"And they remain with you."

"Say rather they have stayed with the Guild. We find them interesting things to do."

Very conscious of Ebony hidden on her collar and Button on Dom's, she explained how darkings were working to link Guild branches and with the Mindelan fishing fleet as well as merchants

carrying the Carthaki trade in old spidren webbing and icelights. Dom, who shared her protective feelings towards darkings, followed smoothly with an account of the internal benefits for New Hope, principally in linking ogres while they had set the silver mines to rights and began opening new coal and iron-ore mines surveying had identified.

"Useful, no doubt, Blessed Domitan-sama, but it seems … less than such creatures might achieve."

Kel decided bluntness was in order, and switched to Yamani herself. "Because they might spy for kings, my Emperor? And even emperors? Please, do not think it. They are very young beings, created as slaves and, though the dragons taught them much, still finding their way in the mortal realms. And they remain volunteers, not subjects or liegers, while the Guild extends complete protection, ultimately guaranteed by the dragons. Even you may only invite, not command."

Jonathan quirked eyebrows, unerstanding her tone if not the words. "The usual warning, Keladry? I've had it too, Daichi, twice, once from the Godborn and once from Keladry, and it amounts to 'hands off'." He shook his head. "The Godborn was especially scathing about rulers, so be grateful you only get the polite version."

The Emperor cocked his head, considering. "Do you not command the Godborn, then, Jonathan? Or the Protector?"

"Both, Daichi, but within limits. They will serve me with honour, but neither will dishonour themselves at my command. Unless I'm very cross indeed I find I appreciate it more than I don't."

Kel thought about it over a mouthful while both men looked at her. Thayet and Dom were waiting on her reply too, with some trepidation.

"Good to know, sire, but you're wrong. I can't speak for Daine, but I've accepted dishonour at your hands several times." Jonathan winced and Thayet visibly suppressed a smile Kel thought would have been more acidic than jovial. "What we won't do is dishonour others by command, when they are under our protection. It's why I disobeyed Wyldon — of Cavall, my Emperor — to pursue those kidnapped from Haven, and why Daine will only magic animals smarter for those she trusts not to abuse them. Ever, and under any circumstances. And the burden of rule is too great for such promises."

Jonathan huffed, then shrugged. "I can't disagree, Keladry. And I've told you straightly I know I made mistakes with you ; serious mistakes, and for bad reasons as well as good. But please understand that for anyone with a kingdom round their necks being told an obvious and helpful course is immoral is not easy to accept."

"Oh, I do, sire. It is always better not to tempt kings, and I try hard not to."

It took Jonathan a second to identify her reference, and Thayet was there first, leaning forward to speak across him to the Emperor. The Empress, Prince Taikyuu, and Tobe were also listening.

"When Kel killed Blayce the necromancer he tried to bribe her for his life with an offer of working for Tortall rather than Scanra, saying Jon would want it, and after beheading him she said to the corpse that he was wrong but it was better we never be tempted. It was in the vision the Elemental of the Chamber showed Jon when she came back. And you know, Daichii, I have since given thanks to the Goddess, often, for her wisdom. Blayce in our dungeons, offering to make us killing devices of our own, would have been a fearsome thing."

"But it shouldn't have been, Thayet. A temporary military advantage at the cost of children's lives and the gods' eternal loathing?" Kel offered a shrug though it belied her feelings. "Maggur

claimed needs of state, and you heard from Lord Mithros's own lips what he thought of that excuse. But we were talking of darkings, and while only they and the Godborn know the full story, I understand that while they could rebel against their creator because Ozorne created them in the Divine Realms, they did so because the orders he gave them became hateful to them. They are immortals, and like most simply will not do what they do not wish to do. And you should be grateful for that, my Emperor, for if you could command them, so could others — Lord Fujiwara, say. Or Jindazhen raiders."

As she had half-expected, Fujiwara's name, though drawing a sharp glance from Empress Reiko, made the Emperor veer off, turning the conversation back to the Copper Isles and Queen Dovasary, and then to Tortallan affairs in the wake of the Scanran treaty. Jonathan had in the end largely taken Kel's advice about the vacant fiefs created by the traitors' deaths, disallowing the claims of collateral lines and awarding them to fresh blood — primarily military. Sir Douglas of Voeldine had been ennobled to take over Torhelm permanently, and the southern army commander, Alan of Pearlmouth, who had done very well against pirates and slavers despite resources greatly reduced by the northern war, now held Runnerspring ; Genlith, though, remained in royal administration while His Grace of Wellam's searching investigation of its former lord's dealings and trades continued.

"You take some high risks, Jonathan, so to dispossess ancient families." The Emperor had a very thoughtful look. "Are they not incensed against you?"

"Mostly, Daichi." Jonathan's smile was predatory. "But as the fiefs were legally forfeit in their entirety, meaning all their existing grants were void unless and until reconfirmed, those complaining most intemperately no longer have the resources or positions to do much about it. And the traitors having been active participants in the attack on New Hope, not merely complicit, they enjoy very little general sympathy. I'm not entirely sure how the treachery and maladministration connect, but it's clear most commoners in those fiefs are increasingly pleased with the changes, even though my tax revenues have gone up."

He sat back, steepling fingers.

"And however unnerving at the time, it wasn't that hard a decision. If I'd had to face a whole string of treason trials, with lawyers over everything and time for waters to be muddied, it would be another story." He gave Kel a glance she read as apologetic, in a royal way, and mentally braced herself. "But Keladry's pure ruthlessness — and the traitors' own military stupidity — gave me an opportunity beyond hoping for, and I'd have been a fool not to take it. They openly took arms against me, and all but one were dead within a few hours, while he died in the sally that ended it. The broom swept clean, you might say."

Kel didn't much care for the joke, there having been nothing of the glaive's elegant beauty in the butchery to which she'd been forced, but Jonathan was trying, and faced again with two enquiring looks she picked out what he still seemed not to understand.

"I believe the treason and maladministration connect, sire, because they had the same root. Numair calls it 'egotism'." She had to use the Tortallan word, Common lacking anything beyond 'selfishness'. "Jibunhoni, my Emperor, or gashuu. As those men broke their oaths to you, sire, so they broke those to their liegers and people, caring for nothing but their own desires."

"You thought them … kuchisakidake, Protector?"

"Insincere? Utterly so."

Jonathan frowned. "Yet Runnerspring spoke from his heart that day, Keladry, however vilely."

"And what did he say, sire? We must have a Tortall cleansed of all foreign influence and immortals, with women reduced to slavery — as if it were possible. It was an absurd fantasy of imposing his own prejudices. And all the traitors together didn't have the mother wit to realise they had made themselves Maggur's expendable pawns. Even desperation can't explain such sheer stupidity, but utter selfishness can, and does. Not one of them ever dreamed he might be held personally accountable for his actions, any more than Tirrsmont when he stood there repeatedly lying to you, believing he need only say it to make it so."

She would have liked to ask if Lord Fujiwara was cast in the same mould, and how his people fared as his political influence declined, but stored the question away as Jonathan's look became wry.

"You do cut to the bone, Keladry, and I agree they were fooling themselves. But as they supposed your experiences to be fantasies, despite all evidence to the contrary, I can't help seeing the … 'ironies'."

"Hiniku. And that's more of the gods' laughter, sire." Struck by a thought, Kel had to suppress a grin. "It's even worse in Yamani, you know, because hiniku is literally 'skin muscle', what you can see and the power underneath, so the gods' hiniku, which is what really cuts to the bone, is rather a marvellous contradiction."

Whether Jonathan agreed was moot, but Emperor and Empress obviously appreciated the idea ; she leaned forward.

"You should compose another haiku, Keladry-chan."

The look Kel sent back made her smile, and after a brief interruption as further courses were served a welcome distraction presented itself.

"Whereas what you should do, my Empress, is try this marvellous pickle of Yuki-chan's. The Master of suzukema-ichi was most astonished."

It was the fermented honey, and produced delighted imperial astonishment too. The praise sent Yuki very pink, and the catalogue of her other creations, with samples brought in, generated many Yamani exclamations. Kel was happy to stay silent, but did quietly explain to the Emperor her notion of Lord Sakuyo's tithe and requested permission for the shrine to the Green Lady.

"But of course, Blessed Protector-sensei. It seems only proper. And my kitchens will be an eager customer." He took more red cabbage and apple. "Superb. How long before these are available?"

"The Master and merchants promised agents would be at New Hope soon after my return, my Emperor. But you need not wait."

The presentation case she had had made for him was even finer than the one for the Master, carved with its matching bowls from the Islands' distinctive kaya wood ; the lidded bowls were so thin they were translucent, the perfectly concentric growth-rings serving as measures of how full each jar was, and basilisks had petrified them with great care to retain the beautiful golden colour for which the wood was prized. The Emperor examined it reverently, watched by the whole table, and gave Kel a genuine smile as he passed it to his wife.

"A most exquisite gift, Protector. Is there no end to your surprises?"

"Not that I've discovered, Daichi." Jonathan was obviously pleased at the impression the gift had made, but appreciation of irony was still possessing him. "And when you think there really can't be any more, watch out."

Dom smiled ruefully, and Kel wisely said nothing.


	39. Chapter 39

Offence

Four : Offence

Kiyomizu-dera, 24 March

It wasn't only Kel's nephew and nieces who were waiting for her and Tobe at dawn. Besides her Mama, Yuki, and Shinko, all demurely saying Kel's example had shamed them into proper practice, Patricine was with her children, apologetically explaining that Toshuro's mother, who selected all her grandchildren's sensei, had expressed strong disapproval of absurd gaijin innovations and demanded her daughter-in-law deliver a personal report.

"She's usually not so bad, Kel, but dealing with a gaijin daughter-in-law uses up most of her flexibility, and she's getting grumpy with age. She was carrying on about how upset Chiyoko-sensei would be to have her teaching undermined, so it was easier to say I'd come." Patricine had become far too Yamani to grimace, but her eyes did it for her. "Though actually it's more the spidrens. She finds them difficult to cope with, and rather resents me for minding them less than she does. Akiko saying Kravimal-sama had been full of your praises was the last straw, I think."

"Mmm. I'd gathered some of that from Akemi and Katsumi yesterday, and that Chiyoko-sensei is a rather rigid teacher. Never lose your weapon is one thing, but never innovate is another. So I sent Hayato-sensei a note mentioning the problem, and asking if she might bring Chiyoko-sensei to see for herself why a one-handed grip can be useful, if you have the strength to manage it."

"Kel, you didn't!" Patricine's laugh held surprise and even shock. "She's the most frightful stickler for tradition."

"I didn't want you and Toshuro caught in the middle. And it's only proper Chiyoko-sensei make any protests to the person responsible."

"Are you protecting me from my mother-in-law, little sister?"

"If she is, Patricine, I should let her get on with it." Ilane's voice was very dry. "You didn't see Kel admonishing Grandma Seabeth, did you, but you certainly enjoyed the results. Wouldn't they be worth replicating?"

"Keladry-chan was excellent with Duchess Wilina also," Yuki blandly agreed, "although she was being most rude."

"She was just worried, Yuki, not unreasonably."

"I know, Keladry-chan, but while she didn't stop being worried she did stop being rude."

"It works on grumpy old men too." Shinko was still sounding demure, but Kel could hear her amusement. "My esteemed father-in-law has a speech he makes quite often about Keladry-chan so very improbably winning over Lord Wyldon and Duke Turomot, as well as most of his Council, and how he hates to think who will be next."

Kel's muttered comment that Jonathan should try it himself rather than grumbling wasn't muttered enough, and Shinko flashed a smile.

"But you are so much better at it, Keladry-chan, so he delegates."

"Pfui."

"No, truly. He thought you did extremely well with my esteemed uncle and aunt last night."

"He wasn't there for the really interesting bit, Cricket. Your aunt spoke directly, and didn't clutter everything with needless honorifics, either. We were right, by the way — the dream, yes, but nothing more, so they've no more idea what Lord Sakuyo wants than anyone else."

"She did?" Shinko was taken aback. "She must approve of you very strongly."

"She understands it's all about protecting the children, Cricket, so if she does it's mutual."

Their arrival at the Guards' Compound cut off discussion, and Kel suppressed a curse. There were even more spectators than yesterday, falling silent as they saw her, and the sour-faced old woman standing with Hayato-sensei and others from the Temple of Weapons was already looking thoroughly disapproving. Kravimal came to greet them, and she found her humour restored by how much more easily the children spoke to him than they had been able to manage the day before. She saw Patricine notice too, as they made their way towards the gathered sensei, but her sister's face had acquired a set look and Kel wondered just how much trouble Chiyoko-sensei had already been.

Hayato was extremely correct in making the introductions, with Shinko and her Mama properly preceding Kel, though her eyes suggested a certain anticipation. Kel had been hoping for a polite discussion, but when Chiyoko cut off Hayato's introduction of Tobe to declare that no one-handed gaijin affront to the proper code of the naginata could be acceptable she gave it up as a lost cause.

"How interesting that you think so, Chiyoko-sensei. My son, Blessed Tobeis of Mindelan and New Hope."

Sensitive to her changed mood, Tobe gave an exquisitely correct bow, combining his noble status, blessedness, and imperial friendship with acknowledgement of age and mastery. About to dismiss him as a child, Chiyoko was forced to return it, and as she came upright Kel took the offensive.

"Of course the code should be honoured, sensei, but forgive me, I understood you teach my nephew and nieces to defend themselves. Is that not so?"

"Of course it is so!"

"Then I fail to understand your assertion, unless you believe they should choose to die rather than use an unorthodox move. Do please explain, sensei."

The old woman glared. "It is unorthodoxy that would leave them vulnerable — one-handed grips and their blades will be all over the place."

Though Kel was heartily bored with honorifics, this omission was a wilful provocation. For herself she might have let it go, but it was a jab at Patricine as well, and even Shinko and her Mama. It also echoed Lord Shoji.

"Like your manners, sensei?" In the abrupt silence Kel stepped back, swiftly lifting her glaive one-handed. "But no matter — allowance must be made for age. Now, is my blade all over the place?"

As it was rock-steady less than a foot from the old woman's nose, even she was given some pause.

"No. Blessed." The word was ground out. "But to do that takes great strength."

"Not so, sensei. Strength, yes, but nothing that cannot be developed. Hajikoru's slow dances will take care of it." She rested her glaive at her side. "And I do not advocate one-handed use on foot save in exceptional circumstances. Setting aside yesterday's experiment with Kravimal-sama , I believe I have only used my naginata so twice, both times in mêlées, to kill Scanran axemen who had someone else down and were beginning a death-stroke yet outside my two-handed range. Should I have let those under my command die rather than employ unorthodoxy?"

"You should have been better positioned, Blessed."

Kel swallowed irritation, merely raising her eyebrows. "Another interesting view. Tell me, have you ever fought in a mêlée, sensei? Ten or twelve against fifteen to twenty, on a trail with thick woods on either side?"

Chiyoko might be rude and stubborn but she wasn't a liar. "I have not, Blessed."

"Or had to fight for your life in any confined space, against multiple opponents with mixed arms?"

"No."

"Then your misjudgement is understandable, sensei, if not your presumption in making it, knowing yourself ignorant." Yamani breaths hissed, more, Kel thought, in appreciation than shock. "But all this is beside the point. You agree that the purpose of teaching my nephew and nieces is so that they can defend themselves at need. And such a need is most likely to arise in travelling, yes? Against bandits or ronin?"

That was common sense, and Chiyoko shrugged. "Probably, yes. Blessed."

"When they will also most probably be mounted — and it is that which interested them, sensei, for as even you must concede, to attempt two-handed use by code on horseback would not answer."

That won a grudging nod. "Perhaps not, Blessed, but I cannot see that one-handed use could do more than delay the inevitable."

"Can you not, sensei? Then let us remedy this unfortunate deficiency."

The Guards' Compound was in a back corner of the Daidairi, at the northern edge of the city, with the imperial stables and open fields immediately behind, and as Kel had anticipated the need for a mounted display in her note to Hayako, saddled horses were waiting for her and four of the mortal samurai guards. She dearly wished she had Alder or Hoshi, but the bay gelding she'd been assigned looked a fine horse, up to her weight if somewhat smaller than Alder, and Tobe came with her to introduce himself, stroking the muzzle eagerly thrust at him.

"He's a good one, Ma, and wants to do well for you, but he'll need clear commands, reins and foot pressure, to know what you want."

Mindful of Dom's admonitions, Kel had also asked for half-armour and a blunt practice glaive, and after Tobe had strapped on the breast- and backplates she spent a few moments refamiliarising herself with the distinctive Yamani war-saddle, with a lower pommel and cantle than she had become used to. Once mounted, she also took time to settle to the gelding, until she knew just how much pressure was needed to make him canter or gallop, slow or stop, turn or pivot ; the exercise warmed her own muscles. Finally, she took the practice glaive from an approving Tobe and trotted over to where the samurai guards, at her request also armoured and bearing practice weapons, waited politely in line abreast.

"Gentlemen, please imagine that you are the most nefarious ronin , with designs on my purse and my virtue — the survivors of an assault that has killed my guards and left me only my naginata and my wits." They grinned at her, and she grinned back. "Should you receive a blow that with a live blade would kill or disable, kindly count yourselves out of it." They nodded. "So, how will you proceed?"

Kel had fought mounted Scanrans so often that she hadn't bothered to make any special plans, but they made it easy for her. A barked command from the sergeant among the central pair had the outer two moving a few steps wider, to cut off any escape, but as soon as their horses' heads were turned and their weight committed she dug in her heels and the gelding responded, surging to a gallop aimed directly between the sergeant and his flanker. It was the last thing they'd expected, and with the horse's sudden speed, the straight thrust of her naginata, held far lower on the shaft than the day before, was inside the sergeant's guard before he knew it, striking him low on the breast-plate, over his gut. The naginata was no lance, with the spring to pop a man free of his saddle, but the low cantle of the Yamani design gave little support and he was lifted over it to his horse's cruppers, sliding into a fall ; her naginata was already swinging in an arc over her gelding's head to slam into the flanker's far side from an angle he couldn't hope to defend. As her weight shifted with the swing, one heel dug in and her left hand hauled on the reins, bringing the gelding round in a sharp turn that brought her from behind onto the man who'd gone wider to the left while he was still trying to turn but finding himself blocked by the flanker's startled mount. Her blade cracked into his backplate, knocking him forward and sideways, and a tight curve, brushing his horse aside and dismounting him, brought her towards the last man.

His shock was clear on his features but he was no fool, and had had time to turn to face her properly. Switching her naginata to her left hand and her grip to the balance-point she came in on his unarmed side, forcing him to fight across his own body, and though he blocked two quick strikes he was unprepared for the rotation she put on the second, twisting her wrist so her blade pivoted over his katana and came to rest at his throat. The whole thing had taken less than twenty seconds. She lifted the naginata away, and surveyed the fallen men.

"Alas, no purse for you today, but my warm thanks for your aid."

Her seated bow was returned by all, if rather shakily by the obviously winded sergeant, who followed it with a samurai salute, open hand over heart.

"And ours for your instruction, Blessed Protector-sensei." His voice was wheezy and he shook his head a little. "I would not have believed it possible, though I saw your speed yesterday against Kravimal-sama. And to ride at us so directly …"

"Our warhorses are larger than yours, and Scanrans often mounted only on ponies. Sheer weight can shoulder one aside, and on narrow trails it is a necessary tactic, santougunsu-san. You need to bunch, concentrating attack rather than spreading to prevent escape, for no matter what my grip I cannot defend against simultaneous blows." She lowered her voice. "But if you will excuse me, I must speak to Chiyoko-sensei while the lesson is hot."

Still wheezing, he waved acknowledgement, and she cantered across to the only spectators among the silent throng she cared about, dismounting and thanking the gelding, who slobbered liking on her shoulder, before relinquishing him to a bowing groom. Shinko's eyes were merry, Hayato's approving and amused, Chiyoko's shocked, the children's shining with a worship that made her shudder, and she knelt to let Tobe unbuckle and lift off her half-armour before standing, straightening her tunic, and meeting the old woman's gaze directly.

"Has your sight improved, sensei?"

"It has, Blessed." Chiyoko drew a deep breath. "No true sensei can ignore plain facts, and much as it galls me I cannot pretend I could have done that, nor that in such a strait it should not be tried, however such should best be avoided. The slow dances for the strength, you said?"

"Yes, sensei, at first holding at the balance point, then slowly extending. Some simple weights, also, and work on the wrist. And on riding, of course — a properly trained horse is most helpful, and a nervous one a danger. My own will duck their heads when they feel my weight shift, so I need not arc the naginata so much in the cross-sweep, and while it is true they have the blessing of the Godborn, my Lord of Cavall has found it possible to train his colts to the move."

Hayato and other sensei were nodding.

"We need yet another new field of styles, Blessed, for the grip and integrating horses. It is most interesting, and fearsomely effective — even with armour all four would have been seriously wounded."

"Killed, Hayato-sensei. Here I was aiming for the armour. In a real fight I would have aimed under the sergeant's breastplate, to gut him, and under the backplates of the next two, angling in for the spine. The last would have lost his head. We were almost always outnumbered by the Scanrans, you see, so killing blows were most necessary." She turned back to Chiyoko, conscious of the spreading ripple her blunt words had caused. "And that is the root of it, sensei. I earnestly hope my nephew and nieces will never need to follow such a path, but none can guarantee that, and if they do face the necessity code alone, wonderful as it is, cannot be enough. Of course they must know it, and all that is traditional, but as a foundation, not an end in itself."

The old woman nodded briefly. "Your lessons are harsh ones, Blessed."

Kel risked the kind of Yamani smile that only showed in the eyes. "What Naruko-sensei did not beat into me, war did. You will work with the children, sensei?"

"I will, Blessed."

"And tell the dowager Lady noh Akaneru you do so in good heart?"

Miraculously, that won a sudden, gap-toothed smile.

"Indeed. The terrible old women will be well-behaved."

"The terrible young one also, sensei."

"How disappointing."

Kel gave her a frank grin, and, turning, dropped to one knee, summoning Akimi, Katsumi, and Akiko.

"Chiyoko-sensei will work with you all on these new skills, but there are dues you must pay. She is quite right that your sense of point will suffer, badly, as you try any new grip, so you must always use practice weapons when you do so until she allows otherwise. And however you may be taught in riding, the same, or you will kill your mounts. The slow dances will also exasperate you, and leave your muscles aching most horribly, and there is no short-cut. But the rewards of perseverance are great. Make me proud, all of you?"

Their promises were fervent and sincere, and, rising, Kel found Chiyoko's eyes held a new respect, though for what she wasn't sure ; but Hayato had words to say as well.

"This will be a formal enquiry of the Temple, Blessed, and an urgent one. We must also consider

training and the proper ages for each stage that is developed." Her gaze switched to Patricine. "Lady noh Akaneru, might you and your husband be willing for the children to participate? I will be involved, with Hisashi-sensei and others."

Hisashi was in the surrounding group, and came forward, bowing.

"There would be no additional charge, of course, my Lady, and it might well be the children would be owed. Certainly they would earn the Temple's goodwill and gratitude."

Patricine curtsied back. "I cannot of course speak for my husband, sensei, but I would be astonished if he were not delighted to agree."

"Should he have doubts, my Lady, I will be happy to wait upon him to seek to assuage them." That was high patronage, and Patricine gave another curtsey, her eyes alight. "It will be my honour so to inform him, Hisashi-sensei. You bless us."

"Say rather that your most esteemed and intriguing sister blesses us all, my Lady. I was sadly sunk in boredom, supposing my mastery complete, and she has shown me how foolish I was. I will not make her blush further, delightful as it is to do so, but be assured, my Lady, that your agreement, and your husband's, will bless us, and richly so. Already the Temple is more wide awake than I can recall, and fruitless divisions between sensei most comprehensively bridged."

Kel didn't know where to look, and found herself trying to decipher the complex look in her Mama's eyes. Yuki and Shinko had also acquired wide-eyed gazes that unsettled her, and the children's remained as disconcertingly worshipful as ever. But as they made their way back to the Dower House it was Akiko who tugged her sleeve.

"Keladry-oba, how do you make things happen so?" "Do I, Akiko-chan?"

"You do, oba. Nothing convinces Chiyoko-sensei of anything, but you have bent her into a hoop, yet left her thanking you for your lesson. How?"

Kel had no ready answer, but a listening Tobe leant in.

"It's what Ma does, Akiko-chan." Their age difference was just enough to allow the endearment, and Akiko didn't mind. "She commands, and people jump. It puzzles her as well as them, but you've only to look at the results to see why. Don't worry about 'how' — even the gods have given up on that, I think."

Kel spluttered a denial but no-one took any notice, least of all the children.

Though Kiyomizu-dera was less than two miles from the city boundary as the crow flies, it was the better part of two thousand feet higher, on a spur of Mount Otawasan, and a twisty eight miles on foot. Jonathan and Thayet were coming, partly as a political gesture but more because both understood how important Ilane's defence of the swords had been in making the treaty possible, and were genuinely curious to see the place they'd heard so much about. Prince Eitaro was therefore escorting the party, with Kravimal's troop and a score of samurai guards, but other logistics took a little sorting out. The adult basilisks and Kuriaju wanted to see a quarry some miles west of the city, the only source of a distinctive green stone that Yamani mages said held magic almost as well as black opals, and Ventriaju would go with his uncle. Alanna and Neal were

interested too, so Keiichi would go to translate, and Yuki wanted as much time with her brother as she could manage, while Roald and Shinko were visiting her cousins on her less imperial father's side. Both Kitten and Amiir'aan wanted to come to Kiyomizu-dera, however, and neither could easily keep up with the horses during the necessary climb. Kitten didn't in the least mind riding in front of Kel, who was pleased to find she had the same bay gelding, with a proper holder for her naginata ; Amiir'aan was far less at ease riding, but eventually clung rather awkwardly in front of Tobe, on a piebald gelding that would have been too big for him were it not for his horse magic. Cloestra and Amourta were also coming, Cloestra saying that she remembered the temple being built and would like to see how it was faring, but they could fly themselves.

The day was fine and sunny, though the air was cool and would get more so as they climbed. Their route took them west on Konoe-oji, out of the city through a side-gate on Higashikyógoku-oji, and through cherry groves still short of blossoming down to a wide stone bridge over the River Kamo, then along its further bank for a mile before beginning a series of switchbacks up the flank of Otawasan. At first Kel was content to ride mostly in silence, enjoying the clean air and absence of city noise, and answering Kitten's occasional questions about birds she didn't recognise ; but after a steep and narrow section, taking advantage of a gulley cut by a tumbling stream, vegetation began to change with altitude and as the path broadened again she dropped back to ride by Dom and Tobe, and pointed.

"White pines, love. You thought all those trees in Yamani landscapes had to be artistic licence, but there they are, just as gnarled and layered as they ought to be."

"So they are. And looking so artistically arranged. It makes me feel like I'm in one of those paintings."

"Closer than you'd think. I bet the route was chosen for beauty as much as what was practical." "But it's an old path, isn't it, Ma? Wouldn't the trees have all changed since it was made?"

"Some, yes, but the trees are old too, Tobe. The mature pines could easily be older than the city. There's certainly one in the outer court of Kiyomizu -dera that was fully grown before they built the temple round it." She grinned. "It has a branch I always wanted to climb onto when we came up here, but it wasn't allowed."

Dom frowned. "I thought Conal had put you off tree-climbing before you came here."

"He had, but it's a low branch. The great balcony is another story altogether. I'll be curious to see how high it really is — it seemed like miles but it's probably forty or fifty feet."

"A balcony?"

"Or terrace. It's built out on pillars. They used to say that if you jumped off and survived, you'd have seven years' good luck, but they stopped that after someone important managed to land on his head."

They had bunched slightly on the trail, and ahead of them her father turned in his saddle.

"Quite right, my dear, not long before we arrived. Lord Yasuhiro noh Suzuki, who had been a rather successful commander against Jindazhen raids. His Imperial Majesty was most upset, by all accounts, and though I don't think jumping is exactly forbidden, it's certainly discouraged."

"How high is it, Papa?"

"Four and some jo, I believe."

Jumping down a mountain for luck seems very silly.

"I agree, Skysong, but most people who tried it survived, I gather, and once someone does such a thing it tends to acquire a life of its own."

Kitten was unimpressed. But why should anyone think that surviving a stupid risk would bring them good luck? Wouldn't it use up any good luck they had? Dragons are more sensible.

"Mmm. I don't disagree, Kit, but Papa has a point. Why anyone would think touching that outcrop of finstone I dropped on those mages would bring them luck I can't imagine, but they do. Uinse was complaining about how muddy their boots get crossing the sough and I was wondering what to do about that before we all got summoned here."

Do they, Kel? I had not noticed that. Her mindvoice became thoughtful. I don't think dragons believe in luck at all, though. It is a mortal idea. I must ask Grandsire.

Another steeper section broke up the conversation, but above that was a rest area for pilgrims, with a fine view over the city, and Prince Eitaro had pulled up to show it to Jonathan and Thayet. When they moved on Kel, Dom, and Tobe took their places, and Dom whistled.

"Gods, the city really is symmetrical. Except that one park."

The oblong grid gleamed in the sunlight, the inset square of the Daidairi and the length of Suzaku-oji bisecting it perfectly. The parks bracketing the Rajomon gate and in the block above Shichijo-oji were also paired, but on the eastern edge of the Daidairi, between Nijo-oji and Sanjo-oji, was another that had no pair.

"Sorei, the place of ancestral spirits. We passed it, love, but we haven't been taken there because it's where ashes are scattered after cremations. Funerals are public, like the one Cloestra and Amourta went to, but scatterings are strictly family business."

"Huh. Is there a reason?"

"You'll have to ask Papa. I think it has to do with ritual or ordered suicides, seppuku, and the family's claim on the body but not the life. And the asymmetry has a reason too, a geomancy about offsetting the Temple District on the other side or some such."

"How odd. Do you know where all that kind of thinking came from?"

"Jindahzen, I believe, but centuries ago, and the Yamanis added all sorts of things of their own. The Islands are so mountainous and harsh in winter that they bred some quite strange ideas about propitiating the gods. And imperial unification took ages, so there's a lot of regional variation too." Kel's voice became wistful. "We were tied to the Daidairi, so we never got to travel except with the Emperor. There are some fire-mountains up north I always longed to see, but never did."

Are they not very dangerous, Kel?

"They are, Kit, but they sounded truly spectacular when they erupt. Wouldn't you like to see a mountain's fire, even hotter than yours?"

"The rocks glow white hot, I've read, and some are thrown high in the air while others flow like water."

It does sound interesting.

"It sounds terrifying, Kit." Dom grinned at the dragonet. "Not that that would stop Kel, eh?"

"You don't go close." Kel shook her head. "That would be silly. But there are observatories on nearby peaks. I seem to recall hearing about a poetry party some lord held there during one eruption, with haiku composed during the time it took one rock thrown high to fall."

Some pithy discussion of the sheer weirdness of Yamani ideas about poetry and fitful illumination took them on through a long stretch where the trail was shadowed by a huge stand of red pines, straighter than their white kin, and across a saddle towards the spur on which Kiyomizu-dera stood. At one turn the terrace with its towering support pillars was clearly visible and it was Tobe's turn to whistle.

"People jumped down that for luck?"

"They did, Tobe. That's the one alright."

"Then I agree with Kit — it's a really silly idea."

Kel laughed. "Yes it is. But mortals have all sorts of silly ideas, or hadn't you noticed? And at least that one only harms anyone who actually does it. The ones I really hate are the ones like the Cult of the Gentle Mother, a lot sillier but harming women everywhere."

That discussion took them further, through dense stands of mixed pine that deliberately bocked all views of the Temple, so that when the final rise curled back on itself and led into the cleared space before the main hall of the Temple and its accompanying pagoda the sudden view came as a shock.

Is that the tree you wanted to climb, Kel? And why does that building have three rooves?

"Yes it is. And one to keep out rain, one for hail, and one for snow."

There was a ruminative pause while they all dismounted, letting waiting monks take the horses.

That makes no sense at all.

"It's what they say, Kit. But hush now a moment — we have to make our devotions to Lord Sakuyo. Do you want to come or wait outside for Cloestra and Amourta?"

He is less annoying than most gods, and has never ignored me, so I will come in.

"Fair enough. There's the shrine to the swords, but also a shrine around a double spring that newly-weds drink from for luck." Kel glanced at Dom. "I think we'd still qualify, love."

"I'm game, though I don't know that we need any more luck than we've already had."

That was a sobering thought, and Kel's mind was clear and grateful as they followed Prince Eitaro, the royals, and her parents into the magnificent Temple buildings. She had no intention of upstaging anyone, least of all her Mama, and found herself distinctly cross when the chief kamunushi of the Temple, new since her last visit and obviously in receipt of a report of some kind from Lord Kiyomori, offered her parents only rote greetings before surging towards her with an escort of elders. The tumble of curious praise and half-suspicious interrogation could not be stopped, but once it slowed she drew herself up, glaive planted at her side, and fixed the chief kamunushi with a look that a considerable number of dead people would have recognised.

"Your praises are of course most delightful, Reverence, but what you make of Lord Sakuyo's jest at Lord Hidetaki's expense is entirely between you and the High One. And do you not realise that without the woman you have just brushed aside you would have no swords to guard, and Lord Sakuyo would never have noticed me at all?"

His confusion drew from her a blunt explanation that had her Mama blushing behind her shukusen and the kamunushi almost incoherent with apologies, as well as on his knees. Still irate, Kel saw Prince Eitaro and her Papa suppress grins as she unceremoniously hauled the man up.

"Don't grovel, Reverence, please. It's unbecoming. And it isn't me to whom you owe apologies."

Given that his subsequent attention to her Mama was interspersed with backward glances at her, she wasn't convinced her rude show of temper had done much good, but at least he hadn't dared object when she brought her glaive within the Shrine of the Swords, explaining that she wished to acquaint it with the weapons that had first inspired her. In truth she just felt uneasy about going unarmed, for no reason she could pin down, but the Shrine soothed her, for all its memories, and the attendant lady pleased her greatly by greeting her Mama with profound respect and reciting a chant of how the Swords had been saved by a most honoured gaijin whose skill with the naginata passed all belief.

"I do believe they've muddled us up, sweeting."

"No they haven't, Mama." Kel cocked her head, remembering. "Maybe Lord Sakuyo was lending a hand, but you surpassed yourself that day."

"Did I? I couldn't save poor Aiko noh Takanuji."

"Lady Aiko. That's right. I remembered noh Takanuji, but I'd forgotten her first name. It came up with Anders last year." She regarded her Mama with infinite love. "He passed it on to the King for his speech at my creation, the wretch — and I've still to get him for that — but you do know he was quite right? I've always been trying to save the swords myself, and never been able to match you."

Ilane looked perplexed. "But sweeting, you have surpassed me in every way. What happened here was only a skirmish, and those few Scanrans who made it in were already exhausted from the climb and fighting the kamunushi."

Kel had never thought of it that way, and took time to do so before shaking her head firmly.

"That's you being compulsively modest, Mama. This is hindsight, but you'd only been learning the naginata properly for a year or two, and you took down nine Scanrans in two minutes. And I know exactly what fighting with naginata against axes means."

Ilane also considered, her hand seeking her husband's.

"You know, sweeting, me being compulsively modest is one of your sillier ideas, but my greatest regret has always been that I couldn't protect you better than pushing you behind me. You were drenched in blood afterwards, and you never seemed to mind, but I hated it. No-one so young should have to endure that."

"Now there we're agreed, Mama, but I honestly don't think it did me any harm. If it had been your blood, the way so many orphans at New Hope saw their parents killed, I think I'd be screaming still. But it wasn't, and I can still hear the string of orders you gave the samurai sergeant who burst in when it was all over, saying the swords were safe and he should get aid to the injured at once. He did, too, for all he was bewildered."

"So he did. I'd forgotten that, sweeting. Isn't memory odd?" "Gods be thanked."

That thought subdued them both, and took them from the Shrine of the Swords to the Shrine of the Two Springs, where she and Dom did drink for its blessing, however humbly. She hadn't been at all certain Lord Sakuyo was watching, but as the ice-cold water slipped down her throat a sense of foreboding filled her, with an utter conviction that someone meant them dire harm, and was close by. Suppressing another curse, she told Tobe to keep Kitten and Amiir'aan well behind her and Dom, and after a brief internal debate stepped to Prince Eitaro's side and told him she had a premonition of danger. Jonathan and Thayet looked at her with narrowed eyes, but though Eitaro blinked he didn't quibble.

"Here, Keladry-chan? Even for Michizane, that would be impious."

"I may be mistaken, my Prince, and hope I am, but if the High One truly bothered to warn me, I must believe someone so far into wrong that his Temple is no protection."

He nodded, and gave instructions to the senior samurai in attendance, Kravimal and his troop having remained outside. Her Papa and Mama gave her worried looks, but she had no chance to explain as the guards tightened their pattern. She dropped back to Dom and Kitten.

"You don't know what the threat is, love?"

"No. But something bad."

The standard route through the Temple took pilgrims straight from the Two Springs to the great balcony, and they emerged from the stairway into its space more like a sally squad than a group of worshippers. Her immediate thought was that it was exposed to fire, but a swift survey showed her that the wings of the Temple blocked the nearer slopes, and not even the godbow could have reached it from anywhere that did have line of sight. Jonathan and Thayet came to her side as she looked out.

"A feeling like on Drachifethe, Keladry, about not crossing first?"

Her denial was instinctive and she had to work out why. "No. That … that was just me, I think, sire. I had the bits but hadn't put them together properly. This is different. We've all been concerned, and if anywhere was safe it should be here. But I think this was a warning from Lord Sakuyo, though I have no idea why he would do that and still not speak directly."

"Is there anything we should do, Kel?" Thayet was holding Jonathan's arm.

She shrugged. "Stay back, don't expose yourselves unnecessarily, stay alert. Be prepared to use magic, sire, if something does happen."

"Oh, I am, believe me."

"Good." A mordant thought came to Kel. "And if it really comes to it, and you're the targets — which makes no sense, but anyway — remember most people survived jumping off this thing. If you were lowered at full stretch it'd only be about thirty feet, and there's no quick way down there except jumping."

"Gods, yes. Alright. Eitaro was telling me about that custom."

Despite the view, no-one wanted to linger, and though the kamunushi were distressed by the evident change in mood they passed briskly back through the main hall. The first guards out spoke to Kravimal, waiting at the doorway, and by the time Kel emerged in front of Dom and Kitten, her glaive ready in both hands, the spidren troop were facing outward in a wide half-circle. Nothing was obvious, but the surrounding woods were thick, the Temple's gardens filled with dense stands of flowering bushes and shrubs. It looked so peaceful, and the blended fragrance of water and

pines on the cool mountain air was one of the great delights of the place at this season. But Kel's nerves were screaming, and her eyes raked across the greenery.

Do you see anything, Kel?

"Not y — "

Even as she spoke something glinted where it shouldn't and instinct brought her naginata whirling down with frantic speed. It bucked in her hand with a ringing clang of metal, the flat slapping Kitten's snout, and pain seared across her lower leg as her voice rose above Kitten's squawk and one arm snapped out, pointing.

"Crossbow, there! Get him alive!" And a second later, "Keep guard. It's not over."

Kravimal and two other spidrens bounded for the tree-line where the bowman had been, while the rest drew in, tightening their half-circle.

"Kel, you're bleeding." Dom's voice was carefully matter-of-fact, and she glanced down to see him kneeling to look at her leg. The blade of her naginata had deflected the bolt, leaving a thin score in the metal, to slice across her calf and bury itself in the wooden floor just inside the doorway. "It's not bad but needs cleaning and bandaging."

"It'll have to wait."

"Give me a handkerchief."

One part of her mind was amused as she kept still to let him knot it around the deepest part of the gash ; the rest was anything but, and a white rage was filling her. That bolt had been meant to kill, and the target had been Kitten.

"Kit, are you alright?"

My nose is bruised and I was knocked backwards, but I am not injured.

The dragonet's mindvoice had a quaver, and Kel's rage grew. "Good. I'm sorry about the bruise. Stay back, please, and you, Amiir'aan. It might be Kit specifically they're after, or any immortal or youngling."

She only half-heard the basilisk's agreement as her gaze snapped up at the sound of claws on tile, to Cloestra on the highest pagoda roof.

"Armed men out of the trees come up the last rise, Protector. Two score." "Thank you. They may have more crossbows, so stay high." "Only swords, I think, but I have told Amourta to keep her height." "Good."

Kel had no right of command, but the senior guard had heard and his men had already drawn, flanking the spidrens who remained. Cloestra's warning had given them a direction, and the men who began to enter from the trail a moment later faced a ring of steel — but Kel's heart sank at the sight of them. They were ronin, not only fully armed but half-armoured, with grim purpose on their faces and a worrying discipline in their movements ; nor had Cloestra's count been wrong — Kel reckoned forty-three and a captain, who pushed through to within ten feet of the guards. His voice was a harsh shout, aimed at Prince Eitaro.

"No harm is meant you or the gaijin rulers, Prince. Our business is the immortal who claims to be a dragon. Surrender it and we withdraw with no blow struck."

"Lady Skysong is under His Imperial Majesty's protection, and you are all traitors."

"So you think, but you are outnumbered. Surrender the beast or all may die."

"Never."

"So be it, then."

And with his last word the ronin launched themselves forwards in a flurry of blades. For a long moment samurai and spidrens held them, but Kel had not been wrong about the discipline. Responding to barked commands, two men threw themselves at the spidren furthest to her left, dying on its glaive blades but bearing it down with their dead weights, unable to defend itself as a third struck at its head. The line was breached, and a wedge of ronin immediately pushed through ; two-thirds of the samurai and all the remaining spidrens were forced back around the Prince, the royals, and her parents, with perhaps sixteen men containing them while as many, led by the captain, drove the other six samurai back towards her.

Not going forward to fight alongside them was as hard as anything Kel had ever done, but they were trained to one another's habits, and naginata against multiple opponents with paired swords would more likely see her dead and Kitten left undefended than gain much. As one and then another samurai fell, forcing the others still further in, she did take opportunities to jab between two of them with her naginata held one-handed, only wounding but distracting emough to allow fatal katana strikes. She couldn't see clearly, but it was evident Jonathan had the same problem, and though the balls of magic he was arcing over his defenders heads were causing shouts of pain, he couldn't aim them. Her attention snapped back as the rearmost of the ronin attacking her own defenders, with no room to come at an opponent, was taken out by Cloestra, gliding silently down to seize his head in outstretched claws and yank him off his feet. Even through the clash of steel Kel heard his neck snap, and Cloestra dropped the corpse, flapping into a steep, banking climb.

Maybe half the ronin in the group attacking her were down, but then two samurai fell in close succession, and she had no choices left. A last one-handed thrust sliced across a ronin's face before she had to draw on all her speed and skill to face three more, with no time for anything but deflections, and only the superior reach of her naginata keeping their short swords out of play. She could hold them, just, but couldn't prevent them forcing her to step sideways, and she heard the captain order men to push through to the doorway doing so had uncovered. Unable even to glance that way she felt desperation rise as she heard steel clash behind her, and of necessity tried to shift to the offensive, turning a deflection into an unexpected block that had the ronin stumbling, and stepping forward to whip her blade across the second's throat ; but she knew she had left herself open to the third and despaired, yet as she saw his katana coming towards her in the slowed time of combat the rumble of the rock-spell filled the air, dragonfire lanced past her to drill right through him, armour and all, and Cloestra struck the captain from behind, claws gouging into his eyes. Kel's naginata swung back to gut the ronin who'd stumbled before he could recover, and with the space around her suddenly cleared she saw Kravimal and the two spidrens who'd been with him charge into the ronin containing the other group from behind, their blades bisecting four and killing another two in little more than a second. As the remainder spun to meet the new threat the surviving samurai pushed out to attack them from behind, Jonathan had a clear line of fire at last, and fiery trails of blue magic began slamming into ronin, who fell like stones. In a moment it was over, and Kel turned to the doorway, heart in mouth.

Dom and Tobe both held bloody swords, but seemed unharmed. Kitten and Amiir'aan were also standing, but both were shaking violently, and she stepped over two ronin with petrified heads to

kneel and gather them both in her arms, feeling their frantic grips.

"Shh, shh. It's over now." She glanced up at Dom. "Injuries?"

He was breathing heavily but shook his head. "No, love. We're alright, thanks to Amiir'aan."

The golden hilt of the sword he held caught her eye, and she flicked a surprised look at Tobe's shorter blade before meeting Dom's eyes.

"Are those …?

"Yes they are. The chief kamunushi brought them and we weren't saying no."

"Huh." She was vaguely aware that might have consequences, but first things came first. "Kit, Amiir'aan, are you alright?"

I killed. I killed.

Kitten's mindvoice was racked with distress, and Kel had to take her arm from around Amiir'aan to force the dragonet's head up and look into her whirling eyes.

"Yes, you did, very rightly, or I would have died. Thank you, Skysong." I must tell Grandsire.

"No, Kit. I must speak to him, and I will. You both acted absolutely correctly, and were very brave."

"I had to protect Skysong. I am elder." Amiir'aan's fluting whisper was filled with sorrow. "But I had no wish to hurt anyone."

"Of course you didn't, sweeting, either of you. You had no choice."

And that they hadn't was a white fire in her mind, returning with renewed force as the shock of combat faded. She heard a swift step and a hand rested on her shoulder.

"Is Kit injured?"

"No, Mama. Just acutely distressed at killing."

"Gods be thanked." Ilane knelt, extending a hand to the dragonet. "You were so brave."

I had to. I hate it.

"We all do, Kit, but sometimes there is no choice at all. And however awful it feels, it's better than being dead."

The dragonet said nothing but the worst of her trembling slowly eased, and after a moment Kel managed to pass her to Tobe, who had knelt to put his own arm around Amiir'aan. She gave him a straight look.

"Are you alright, Tobe?"

"Scared and angry, but alright, Ma. Who were those men?"

"Ronin by their look, so someone gave them orders. And we have to find out who."

But it would be a nightmare of an investigation, as Kel realised when she stood, suddenly aware again of the pain from her gashed leg. Three spidrens had died, two more had lost limbs or suffered body wounds, and more than half of the samurai guard lay unmoving while few were unscathed ; but the ronin looked to have died to a man, and there would be no testimony from them. Her eyes found Kravimal's.

"The younglings are alright, Protector?"

"Yes. Deeply shocked but not injured. The assassin?"

"Trussed where we left him, I hope, though the sound of fighting made us rush." His eyes narrowed. "One try by stealth, backed up with blunt force. And these were not just hired men, I think, though we gave them little chance to surrender. We must try to trace their orders."

She nodded. "If we can, Kravimal. There is much to answer for. I'm so sorry for your dead."

"I too, but they died well." His face tightened. "I doubt if those truly responsible can be made to answer, though. There will have been many layers of secrecy."

Prince Eitaro, striding towards them with shock and rage on his face, heard the last of this and nodded as he came to a fuming halt.

"Too true, Kravimal-sama. A grain to a bushel the orders came from Michizane noh Fujiwara, and I'll lay odds that captain was a westerner from his lands, but we'll never get evidence of it."

Within Kel's own shock and rage thoughts a dozen scattered thoughts spun into abrupt alignment. "Oh yes we will."

A busy hour later, Kel was back on the great balcony, staring into the distance with her arms round Amiir'aan and Kitten. Cloestra had carried a hasty message from Prince Eitaro to the Daidairi, scrambling healers and replacement guards who were already on their way ; and as Kel and Dom alone were aware, Ebony had spoken to Shale, so St'aara and Var'istaan knew what had happened, and were hurrying back to the city. Another darking message had been sent also, and acknowledged. The wounded had been helped as best they could be, and her own leg was bandaged with clean cloth provided by the Temple ; she had also been relieved to learn that the spidrens' legs would regrow, in time, though Kravimal said it was a miserable process. The swords of law and duty had been cleaned and restored to their cases, Prince Eitaro warmly commending the chief kamunushi's decision they should be used. And the would-be assassin, wrapped as tightly as any fly, had been recovered from the woods, but predictably refused to say anything of interest.

"I am a dead man anyway," he had said in an utterly toneless voice, "but if I stay silent I die alone. If I speak, my kin will die also."

Kel hadn't bothered to argue, knowing it could do no good ; not yet. And thinking through what she intended, if permitted, was taking all the energy she could spare. The dragons' agreement she was reasonably sure of, but the gods were anyone's guess and what she wanted might offend many, not least Sakuyo ; but something had to be done, as the still occasionally shivering weights of Kitten and Amiir'aan against her sides told her beyond doubting. Dom and Tobe, her parents, and Jonathan and Thayet were grouped at the railings where Cloestra and Amourta perched, talking among themselves and casting wary glances at her. She was waiting only on Prince Eitaro and Kravimal, who were still attending to the injured while kamunushi dealt with the dead.

At last both came out onto the balcony with the chief kamunushi, grief and anger plain on all three faces, and the others came from the railings to stand around Kel. Even Cloestra and Amourta hopped down to awkward landings. Eitaro came to a halt and offered her a short bow.

"We have done what we can for now, Keladry-chan, until the healers arrive. What is it you wish to be done next?"

She looked up at him, abstractly noting that he took a half-pace back, face paling.

"Justice, my Prince. You say mortal justice will fail in this, and I agree. Those who will kill children to gratify their own ends are cunning, and honest men hamstrung by their lies. But it is not only mortal justice that applies. There is also immortal justice. That crossbow bolt was aimed at Lady Skysong, and though neither she nor Amiir'aan were physically injured, they have taken harm. Dragons and basilisks are owed, and must be paid, or all we strive to build together may fail. The spidrens who died or have been injured defending us must be answered for also, with your samurai who have died this day of another's treachery and wrong. And then there are the gods. What is needed is beyond us, my prince, but not beyond them."

Gently she set dragonet and basilisk upright, one on each side of her, hands resting on their shoulders.

"Be without shame now, however distressed." Kitten was trying to be brave, but her tail drooped and Kel could feel her misery. "Ebony, Button, one to show and one to tell, please."

The darkings detached themselves from her collar and Dom's, Ebony staying as a blob and Button distending itself into a sheet on the wooden decking, in which after a few seconds the great heads of Rainbow and Diamondflame appeared. Kel heard breaths hiss, at the darkings and the sight of adult dragons, or the anger she could sense emanating from them, but ignored the distractions.

"My greetings and thanks, my Lords, though I wish it were in happier circumstances. I must tell you that in bringing Lady Skysong to Yaman I have unwittingly placed her in danger, and she has suffered for it. She has survived, but to save me had to use fire to kill, and is sorely distressed. So too is Amiir'aan, son of St'aara and Var'istaan, who also killed, using the rock-spell to save himself and Skysong. And however I must answer to you afterwards for my failings, I need your aid now to pursue justice against those directly responsible for orders to kill Lady Skysong. Will you stay your own judgements to that end?"

The dragons looked at one another for a moment, and Kel had a faint sense of their surprise before Ebony squeaked their reply as loudly as a darking could.

"Rainbow say, no blame to you, they listen."

Kel didn't agree, but her own guilt could wait. "Thank you, my Lords." It made no sense, and he had to be watching in any case, but she looked straight up to the far blue vault of the sky. "Lord Sakuyo, I thank you with all my heart for your warning, yet I fear I must disappoint you. I know not what jest you planned, but whoever ordered Lady Skysong killed must answer for it, though it ruins whatever you plan. And what must be done requires the consent of your brothers Lords Mithros and Weiryn. Do you hear me, Lords of Justice and of the Hunt?"

After a moment of pulsing silence, Ebony acquired a silver tinge.

"War god hears. Horned god hears. Many gods hear."

Breaths hissed again.

"Then hear my plea, High Ones."

Step by inexorable step she laid out what had happened and what she wanted done about it, hearing silence deepen around her but driven on by rage, and beneath it guilt at having brought Kit into such danger. She could hear the flatness of her voice, and wept inside at the shivers she saw in many who heard her ; even her Mama and Papa seemed shocked, but there was no help for any of it.

"I realise it may breach many rules, but I cannot see how justice may be served otherwise. If you can, please tell me now. And if you cannot, then you have said to me yourself, Lord Mithros, that contradiction is what gods do, and that I would think of something to ask you for. And this attempt to murder a dragon kit is not to be borne, nor the plot that must underlie it. So how say you, High Ones?"

Kel was watching Ebony, but after a moment Lord Mithros's familiar and ever surprising voice spoke from the air, that distant fury of battle ringing behind and through it, and she was aware of people kneeling.

"Will the dragons consent to this?"

Rainbow's and Diamondflame's heads turned towards one another, but only for a second and Ebony's squeaked reply came far sooner than she'd expected.

"Dragons say, willing if gods are. Come anyway, for young one." There was a pause, before Ebony shivered slightly. "Gods argue."

Kel heard Jonathan's muttered 'I bet they do', but ignored it, her hands stroking Kitten and Amiir'aan, containing rage and impatience, directing an unspoken demand towards the gods. She had enough experience of their inhumanity to be grateful there were some rules they followed ; but also thought that in their nature as gods they failed to understand how mortals could and should be managed, and seemed strangely unable to deal with things that needed to be dealt with. Failing to clear up properly after Uusoae was inexcusable, and if all this really was Lord Fujiwara's doing, a timely, proper response to the murder of the kamunushi and attempted corruption of her book would have saved the immortals she comforted from the harm they had taken this day. Perhaps it was simple laziness, besetting all the divine realms, not just the Dragonlands, but whatever it was, it wouldn't do. The wait seemed endless, but probably wasn't more than a minute.

"We agree, Protector. One change is necessary, but it will not affect your purpose." Lord Mithros's voice was quite muted, battlenoise only a murmur, and the thought came to Kel that he was amused by all this ; she swallowed rage. "Go then, and work your justice with our blessing."

"Thank you, my Lord, and all High Ones." She sought Diamondflame's gaze in Button's display. "The darkings will keep you informed, my Lords. I trust to your own sense of timing."

The great dragon's eyes took on their own tinge of amusement, and Ebony suddenly gave an utterly unexpected laugh, a tiny yip of pleasure that Kel had never before heard from any darking. She hadn't known they could laugh, though they enjoyed many things.

"Diamondflame say, funfunfun."

Kel's eyes went wide with shock, and Lord Sakuyo did something else useful. That calm that she knew rested beneath his laughter, that was also the calm of her lake, slipped into her like happiness. Her rage was not diminished one jot, but no longer included Mithros's amusement, which hadn't been at the suffering but only at her manner of answering it. And grim as things would have to be when the guilty were known, it would be after all a great and terrible jest, in its

own way, a sword of duty not unfitting for Lord Sakuyo, despite her fears. Understanding glimmered, but duty came first.

"So." She rose smoothly to her feet, others rising with her, and turned to face Eitaro. "My Prince, would you of your grace send urgently to His Imperial Majesty, informing him of what will happen and asking him to summon all of sufficient rank, power, and wealth to have given those ronin their wages and orders? Cloestra will carry your word to him."

His eyes were very wide, but he was nodding. "I will write at once, Blessed Keladry-chan. How long do we have?"

"Our time is our own, my Prince. Those who will come travel as fast as they will, and when they will. But I would have those responsible for this facing the Black God's judges this night."

He blinked, but turned at once to call for a writing-set, and Kel looked at the Tortallans. Piety and anticipation had replaced shock in her Papa's eyes, but her Mama's were unfathomable. Dom looked relieved and resigned, a look she'd seen on his face before when she did something necessary, and Tobe had a fierce, predatory satisfaction, expressing his own rage on Kit's behalf. What Jonathan and Thayet were thinking she had no idea, but in her new calm could see things she hadn't considered.

"Sire, you and Thayet have a decision to make."

"Do we, Keladry?" His voice was very neutral.

"You do. I speak now as your Councillor, sire, one familiar with Yaman. Beyond question, you and Her Majesty have a claim on justice here. You have been inconvenienced, threatened, exposed to harm, and obliged to kill in your own defence ; and are honoured guests under imperial protection. You must consider four things."

She counted on her fingers, more for his clarity than her own.

"First, though they are tangled together, the justice I pursue cannot be on your behalf. It would be a purely Yamani matter were it not for the juvenile immortals, and specifically Lady Skysong, for whose safety in the mortal realms I am responsible as Guildmaster, and by personal promise to the Godborn. The being to whom I am responsible is Lord Rainbow, and one reason I act is to channel the dragons' rage at the attempted murder of their kit. But nothing warrants my interference in the matter between you and His Imperial Majesty."

He and Thayet were listening fiercely, as was her father.

"Therefore, second, it must seem that your claim to justice is at best subordinated to Skysong's, for so it is. But for me to be a part of that subordination, as your oathsworn noble subject and Councillor, sets a dangerous precedent I have no wish to set. And third, while pursuing your claim in any way can only embarrass His Imperial Majesty, who has failed to protect guests from these harms, public failure to do so while it is implicitly set aside may have consequences. So, fourth, you and Her Majesty should consider withdrawing. A requirement for privacy after such events is eminently reasonable, and Yamanis would work out the true reason swiftly, and approve gratefully. And if all works out as it ought, you and His Imperial Majesty could speak privately afterwards, and settle all to mutual satisfaction with none the wiser."

The King nodded. "I hear and thank you, Councillor. Piers?"

"My daughter's analysis is exact, sire. There is an unimpeachable case for the withdrawal of you and Her Majesty, which I doubt you will give even a second's thought." Jonathan's smile

flickered, but he waved her Papa on. "And there are countervailing considerations. Kel is right about the dangers of precedent, and were we in Tortall I might think otherwise. But we aren't, and while you are of course absolute in yourself, you are a guest here, considerate of your host's needs as well as your own. Kel is also … I was going to say, gods help us, but they are, subjecting His Imperial Majesty's claims to those of the dragons. He has been affronted by rebellious and criminal subjects, who have doubly offended in assailing his guests. But unless Prince Eitaro was badly mistaken, he is going to say "yes, at once, Protector" several times over without blinking, and by Tortallan mores as well as Yamani you have an obligation as his guest to support him in doing so."

"So I do, Piers. That's sharp. And as you're quite right that I have no intention of withdrawing anywhere, a welcome point."

"Or there's this, sire." Ilane sent a sidelong glance at her daughter. "Kel's responsibility is not purely personal. It arises from her position as Guildmaster, signatory to the treaty with dragons. But the Guild is a Tortallan entity, formed by law with your explicit permission and recognizance, and its Charter clearly specifies that immortal members, while under treaty, are not your subjects. What Kel is so astonishingly doing is in fact a Guild proceeding, reconciling her multiple duties, and if she invites you and Her Majesty to attend as witnesses, engrossing such claims as you may have with those she properly pursues, I can see no danger in the precedent, only regal propriety."

"Better and better. Keladry?"

Kel shrugged. "While I answer to Lord Rainbow I cannot answer to you, sire. As justice in my Scanran lands is beyond you, so is immortal justice. I would not by choice ever affront you, but in what remains of this day that choice will be yours, not mine."

After a moment, he nodded, gravely. "So it will, Keladry. And I daresay I shall have to bite my tongue, so you are not wrong to warn me. I told you once that an honest councillor was worth their weight in gold to any king, and I spoke true. But if your whole career has been a series of affronts, to many things, I have learned to anticipate them with some pleasure. You get things done, Protector, for good and all. It's as exhilarating as it is terrifying, frankly. Your husband and son are very wise about it, as are the Godborn and Numair. And Alanna, to whose reactions I find myself looking forward."

Suddenly he gave her a wide grin.

"Like your father, I was going to say gods all bless, but that's already taken care of. Unbelievably." He shook his head. "Please don't involve me or Thayet directly if you can possibly help it. It … seems safer. But otherwise, lead on."


	40. Chapter 40

Justice

Five : Justice

Heian-Kyó, 24 March

The assembled crowd, voluntary and involuntary, had overflowed the first courtyard of the Daidairi, a hovering Cloestra reported to Kel, and the Emperor had shifted venue to the adjacent Sorei. Already crossing the bridge over the Kamo, Kitten silently huddled in front of her, Kel considered the fact.

"An appropriate place."

Cloestra cackled, Amourta above her joining in slightly uncertainly.

"Oh, I am looking forward to this, Protector. I only wish my queen were here to see it."

"I think she will be, Cloestra. Ebony passed word to Scarlet, and I asked Diamondflame if he would open the way. They will be needed. And your aid as we fought, beyond duty, is not forgotten."

After a moment, Kel glanced up to find the stormwing studying her with a curious expression.

"You know, Protector, believing you are purely mortal gets harder and harder. But spare me your gratitude. Good cause to break some necks was not unwelcome after so much peace, and all this excitement has made a rich meal already. Before we are done I expect we will both be glutted."

From somewhere within her calm Kel smiled serenely. "And welcome. For you to feed on those whom justice demands face the Black God without delay is only right. But your willing aid beyond treaty is not so easily set aside. As a member of the Guild you defended the Guildmaster at personal risk, without any asking you to do so, and it is noted."

"No claim is made, Protector."

"Then that too is noted, Cloestra, with the gratitude you so suspect."

Her answer was another cackle as the stormwings lifted away, Cloestra flipping her tail. As the road widened approaching the gate on Higashikyógoku-oji, Dom and Tobe flanked her, Tobe still holding Amiir'aan before him.

"I know you purely mortal, love, however blessed, but I'm reeling all the same. And I'm worried about that change Lord Mithros said was needed. Do you have any idea what he meant?"

"A dozen, or none." Kel shrugged ; the gods took you beyond some kinds of caring. "So long as it doesn't get in the way I don't mind, and he said it wouldn't. He's twisty, often enough, but he doesn't lie."

"Nor say who bears what cost."

Kel didn't think the costs would be unacceptable, whatever they might be, but saying so earned her a sharp glance from Tobe.

"You say that when you mean they're on you, Ma."

"I'll do what I have to, Tobe. But I meant exactly what I said. Only the guilty will find the cost unacceptable, and if their deaths fall to me I will accept that burden. I hope they won't, for the Emperor's sake as well as my own, but they're going to fall to someone."

"Shouldn't immortals execute immortal justice, love?" "Maybe, but that will be their decision."

Dom wasn't happy, but rode on in silence. The delays that had let the Emperor react to Eitaro's message meant dusk was encroaching as they reached the gate. Flaring torches were already burning, showing a guard that had been been substantially reinforced, and St'aara and Var'istaan were waiting with Alanna. Sweeping Amiir'aan into a brief but hard embrace before passing him to his mother, Var'istaan gave Kel an arresting look as she prepared to dismount.

"Stay mounted, Protector. No apology is needed, and Amiir'aan is safe." He came alongside her and lowered his snout towards Kitten's. "And you, Skysong."

Kel didn't hear Kit's reply, but its tone was clear as Var'istaan placed a consoling paw on her shoulder.

"From all I know you did very right and well. To slay enemies and save friends is no shame, and so your grandsire will assure you, very soon."

They moved on through the gate and Alanna, having spoken to Jonathan and Thayet, fell in on Kel's other side, giving her a purple-eyed look all of her own that Kel returned steadily.

"I haven't delayed calling on the gods for help this time, Alanna."

"So Shale told us while squeaking laughter about something. And I wasn't going to scold, not that there'd be any point." She frowned at Kel's leg. "You seem to have omitted being wounded from your message."

"The deflected bolt nicked me. It's nothing."

"Hmph." A hand rested on her aching calf, and purple fire probed and eased it. "Not bad, but not nothing, Kel. It's clean at least."

"Water from the sacred springs, no less. Where are Neal and Yuki?"

"Looking after babies, with help from a wetnurse. It didn't sound as if you'd have a chance for a while yet."

"Ah, thanks — I'd been worrying about that."

"Well, don't." Alanna shook her head. "You've got better things to worry about. Darking reports are splendid, and I was betting you'd brought some with you, but can you tell me what Mithros actually said?"

Kel did, and Alanna frowned. "So we have at least one surprise in store. Amid all the others you're conjuring up. I'm amazed he responded so quickly, Kel. And the dragons."

"I think he and His Nibs have been waiting for something to break, and I'd warned Diamondflame and Rainbow there might be a threat to Kit before we left the barge, so they're playing along."

"You did? Smart of you."

"Just a precaution I hoped would be needless. But for all Diamondflame's irony, he and Rainbow are angry, Alanna. Even by darking I could feel it." Kel leaned down, lowering her voice. "If I hadn't had that warning from Lord Sakuyo I must suppose, Kit would have been killed, and I think they know that."

She could almost hear Alanna thinking. "So a god has helped save a kit, this time. A goodwill gesture?"

"Something like that, I think."

"Gods. Or do I mean dragons?"

"Both. Or we and all Yaman might be finding out what dragons' rage truly means."

Kel had been counting soldiers on Konoe-oji, and as they came to the Daidairi wall and turned down Omiya-oji towards Sorei she realised they weren't only imperial guards. Army units had been deployed, and the cross-streets were blocked by solid ranks, the rearmost facing crowds beyond. The Emperor's understandable instinct would be maximal control, not wrongly, but there was proper caution and there was locking stable doors after horses had bolted. At the Sorei gate on Nijo-oji she saw a samurai with the insignia of a rikuguntaisa, the most senior field rank below full command, and after dismounting, lifting Kitten down, and relinquishing the bay gelding to a nervous groom, with thanks to both, Kel caught his eye.

"If orders permit, rikuguntaisa-san, please allow as many people to watch as best they can. What takes place here tonight is for the sight of all."

"I hear you, Blessed, and will ask."

"Thank you. More importantly, dragons will come soon, bringing other immortal elders who have claims in justice. It will be startling, but none must offer them threat or they may react to it most finally."

He swallowed. "I hear again, Blessed."

She left him snapping sensible orders, and took Kitten's plaintively raised paw as Eitaro led them forward again on foot. Sorei was jammed with people, blazing with both torches and magelights, and as they advanced past scattered trees down the slight slope towards its centre Kel saw that an inner ring of imperial guards and soldiers surrounded a hollow square formed by nobles and magnates who had been summoned. Which might be Lord Fujiwara she had no idea, and no time to look, for the Emperor was descending from a hastily erected daïs to meet Jonathan and Thayet, with a worried Roald and Shinko as well as the Empress and Prince Taikyuu — and Jonathan must have had some sharp advice from her Papa for he went forward himself, to enfold His Imperial Majesty in a brief, unprecedented, and important embrace.

"Daichi, thank the gods you and yours are safe. We feared some attack might have been made on Your person, as on Ours."

And the Emperor responded, even to mixed pronouns, despite a surprise obvious to Kel's eyes. "I am quite safe, Jonathan. But We are mortified Our guests should have been offered such harm."

"Yet We took none, Daichi, thanks to your superb samurai and Kravimal-sama's brave troop. I am only sorry they suffered the losses they did." Jonathan let his tone ripen into evidently controlled anger, projecting his voice for those who understood Common. "But the insults offered Us are as nothing to the risk of the dragons' rage that whoever ordered this idiocy has courted.

Blessed Keladry-chan has contained it by promising swift justice, and all at Kiyomizu-dera heard Lord Mithros agree. So it is Our part now to observe that justice."

Kel would have given quite a lot to be able to see the look that the Emperor exchanged with Eitaro, but the result, after a long second, was a crisp and gracious nod.

"Indeed so, Jonathan. You and Thayet must sit with Us. But you must excuse me a moment to other duties."

Kel's parents were also clear in their greetings to His Imperial Majesty that they were outraged on his behalf, and on Skysong's, more than their own, her Papa adding that he was most shocked by the gross impiety of offering violence at a shrine. They had some quieter advice as well that she didn't catch, and stayed with him as she went forward, Kitten at her side, and the basilisks flanking them both. The Emperor gave her a speaking look, and to her considerable surprise knelt to address Kitten.

"Lady Skysong, We are so sorry you have been threatened and distressed. It is inexcusable."

I did not want to kill anyone.

"Nor should any so wish, but We are glad you did, in defence of yourself and your friends."

Still kneeling, he turned to Amiir'aan with a similar apology, and rose to address St'aara and Var'istaan.

"We regret your distress, also. It is poor hospitality to offer, for your child to have been treated so."

"We have suffered no discourtesy, Imperial Majesty, and though Amiir'aan is young to have to face such things, he has taken no harm." St'aara's whisper deepened a little. "Yet the greater threat to Skysong is an affront to dragons the Protector does well to address. And she is very young for the burden she now bears."

"We know it." The ambiguity hovered as he at last turned to Kel, glancing at her bandaged leg. "And you have suffered injury, Protector, yet We understand this too must be set aside."

"It is a minor wound, Your Imperial Majesty, and well cared for." Kel lowered her voice, changing mode. "But the basilisks are right, my Emperor, for while Lady Skysong is unharmed, however distressed, her grandsire and Lord Rainbow are enraged. I beg your understanding that immortal justice must take precedence over your own."

"Act as you must, Keladry-chan. I will support whatever I can."

Kel swallowed her sigh of relief. "Prince Eitaro believes the orders for this must have come from a Fujiwara. Do you concur?"

"Yes. But via a vassal or client. He will have been cautious, but I cannot believe any other would have done this. Nor am I sure I understand his intent."

A part of Kel's mind had been thinking about that.

"To slay or seize a dragonet under the dragon's protection, I imagine, and so humiliate you, my Emperor. But the ronin captain spoke of the one 'who claims to be a dragon', so his reported disbelief in what Prince Eitaro witnessed at New Hope may have figured also. And if so, that disbelief will very shortly be cured."

He took a deep breath. "So I understand. If it is Michizane, and so proven, what will happen?"

"Those who are guilty will face the Black God's judges before I sleep, my Emperor. Nothing less will suffice." His eyes became very grim, but he nodded. "Is Lord Fujiwara here?"

"Oh yes. In the scarlet robe. His son, however, is said to have left for their estates before my summons came, and I had no cause to command his wife's or mother's presence."

"Absence will not save the guilty. But I should proceed, my Emperor. Delay serves none but them."

"No. But if it is him, Keladry-chan, he will not suffer arrest quietly." "If it comes to that, he won't have any choice." "He has personal troops within the city."

"The dragons will permit no interference, and brook no further offence. When those orders were given, all passed beyond their giver's control." Kel thought he understood intellectually but not emotionally, but that too would soon be cured. "And the gods listen, Lord Sakuyo among them. Justice will be served."

He studied her for a second, eyes unreadable, and took another deep breath. "So be it, then. Jonathan was right. Is there anything else?"

"One thing, my Emperor. Is there one here known to all for honesty?"

"Honesty?" He frowned. "The poet Isao has never been known to lie, in speech or in his craft." Kel had been introduced and remembered the face, so she nodded. "Then let us begin. Let me speak to Eitaro a moment, and I will announce you."

The moment stretched to five, while Eitaro gave orders to a number of samurai who promptly left, though not without some rueful backward glances, and then spoke urgently to his brother. Kel let the tension sing quietly within her, like a drawn bowstring, until the Emperor at last headed back to the temporary daïs, collecting Jonathan and Thayet, who had been earning Kel looks from Roald and Shinko. Alanna dropped back to stand by Dom and Tobe, who had taken Kitten's paw. Kel's eyes found the lord in scarlet, tall for a Yamani and thin-faced, staring down at her from the slope ; tensions eddied in those around him, as they had around his son on that first day. It seemed an age ago, but the memory was irrelevant and she let it drift away as a gong sounded and the Emperor spoke.

"Honoured and esteemed guests, lords of Our realm answering Our summons, today has been a black day in this land. Visiting Kiyomizu-dera in piety, Our guests have been assailed by ronin. An attempt to kill Lady Skysong by stealth was foiled only by the Blessed Protector-sensei's speed and skill, yet in the open attack that followed three of Our spidren guards died, and fourteen samurai, all honour to them and their memories. And now We must abide the consequences. Blessed Protector-sensei?"

"Your Imperial Majesty." Kel projected her voice. "Great as are the offences to His Imperial Majesty, and to His and Her Majesty, still greater offence has been given to dragons and basilisks. Lady Skysong and Amiir'aan, very young among their kinds, have been obliged to kill in their own and others' defence, and that is a grave matter. Still worse is the attempt to assassinate Lady Skysong ; and all must be answered."

A scarlet robe moved and she saw Lord Fujiwara's gaze was on the Emperor, his voice booming above her own, boosted by a mage who stood behind him, a hand on his neck, as Numair had

once boosted hers.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I am of course shocked at this news, but yet more that You give way in public to this gaijin woman. She has no authority here and to pretend otherwise shames us all."

Without thinking, Kel understood he was adapting but not abandoning his plan ; had Kitten been killed it would doubtless have been the Emperor's incompetence that shamed all. But he was no more than a distraction, yet, and she put the edge into her voice that had carried it across battlefields.

"You err, Lord Fujiwara." His head snapped round, shocked rage showing at her statement. "For myself I have no authority here at all. But I do not speak for myself. I speak as elected Master of the Craftsbeings' Guild of New Hope, by sworn word and signed treaty responsible for the wellbeing and safety of its delegates here." He stepped forward to protest, but in doing so pulled away from the mage's hand and her voice easily overrode his. "Lady Skysong is a Journeydragon of the Guild, holding that rank and position with the agreement of the Dragonmeet, as Amiir'aan is an apprentice of the Guild, and it is the Guild that convenes this search for justice on her behalf and its own."

His mage had caught up with him, but if his magnified voice still proclaimed outrage she could hear a new uncertainty beneath it. He also didn't seem to realise that in turning his attention to her, away from His Imperial Majesty, he undid himself.

"So what, gaijin? Your Guild is none of ours, and I recognise no such authority as you claim."

"Do you not, my Lord? You will." She still felt Lord Sakuyo's calm but her own rage was rising, and from a shift in the silence surrounding her voice she knew it had flattened. "For it is to the dragons and basilisks that the guilty must answer. Immortals honour us with their companionship and aid, but their justice is their own."

He tried for a sneer. "Then let this miniature dragon, if that is indeed what it is, speak for itself, as would be fitting."

"Oh she will, Lord Fujiwara, when the time comes. But though brave and most precocious, Lady Skysong is not of age even by mortal standards." From the corner of her eye she saw Kitten tense, snout swivelling and tail extending ; she had trusted dragons' sense of timing, and her trust was requited. "And as she is an orphan, so it is to her grandsire and eldest ancestor we must answer."

His sneer gained some strength. "Then let them appear, gaijin."

Whatever he had expected it wasn't her unintended but compelling laugh, terrible to her own ears even before its echoes came back from the sky with a deeper rumbling in them than her own voice had ever carried. Her arm swung to where space was already distorting.

"And so they do, my Lord." She saw trees and people seem to tilt, as once on the far bank of the Vassa, and wondered how many dragons were coming. Her voice overrode shouts of alarm. "Hold! Hold! The dragons come in justice, not in war. Sorei accommodates them. Offer no insult."

The density of the crowd probably did more to keep people in place than her words, but the expansion stopped with perhaps five hundred feet of clear ground having appeared, a great wedge through the crowd, and though those at its edges still seemed to stand on much steeper slopes than there had been they were realising they were unharmed. Displaced air abruptly slapped her face and fluttered clothing as a full dozen dragons snapped into place in a curving rank. Rainbow was in the middle, flanked by Diamondflame and Wingstar, but Jadewing was also there, an immensity

of green, presumably as Icefall's father, and others Kel recognised as parents of dragon apprentices as well as one pearly-white one she did not remember from the Dragonmeet she and Dom had addressed. Magic the colour of Diamondflame's scales glittered beside him, opening an archway, and the biggest basilisk Kel had ever seen, fully nine feet tall and in proportion, stalked through it from somewhere to stand by Rainbow. The eldest dragon's multihued magic glittered too, and through its circle Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh led the Stone Tree Nation, swooping down to perch on every branch sturdy enough to bear them. As petals of dislodged early blossom floated down amid a shocked silence as deep as the ocean, Kel gestured to Tobe and walked to stand before Rainbow, Tobe and Kitten behind her, with St'aara and Var'istaan holding Amiir'aan's paws.

"My lords and ladies. Thank you for coming at such short notice."

It is our duty, Protector. Rainbow's voice had that reedy feel, in Yamani as in Tortallan, but its power struck everyone, the crowd rippling. Diamondflame being kin to Skysong, it was felt others should be present. You know us all, I think, save Moonwind.

That was an unwelcome name, but as Kel took a breath before turning to the separatist dragon Rainbow's voice continued, forestalling her.

And there is one thing we must deal with first, Protector. The darkings' abilities increase in your care, and we felt your distress and guilt as you felt our anger. But no blame attaches to you. You warned us of your fears as soon as you knew them, and even Moonwind, who opposed from afar the decision of the Dragonmeet you attended, allows that you have done all that could be expected, and more. We are also aware of the warning the god Sakuyo gave you on Skysong's behalf, a matter all ponder ; and of the great skill you showed in defending her from harm ; and of your rage on her behalf, as on young Amiir'aan's, and those spidrens' who died or took lesser harm, negligent of your own injury and claims. So as we have long been absent from this land, making us ignorant of its present customs ; and have full trust in your judgement : we ask that you conduct these proceedings as Guildmaster.

It was a possibilitily Kel had considered, though she had thought the dragons might rather deal for themselves, and there was no delay in her deep bow.

"I accept your charge, Lord Rainbow, of your grace reserving my failings to my own judgement." She turned to the pale dragon. "Lady Moonwind, I am sorry this ill has come from the decision you opposed, yet I believe the mischance may be turned to the advantage of all save the guilty." There was no harm in hedging bets. "And I rejoice that Lord Sakuyo has offered the gods' goodwill to dragons."

That is as may be, Protector. The mindvoice was querulous, an iron duty overlying personal distaste. Mortals have always spelt trouble, and you far more than most, but even rocks can see the Timeway yet swirling about you, as well as the gods with their usual foolery. So get on with it, as fast as you will, that we may consider the whole.

Kel had truly thought the Timeway done with her, and concealed surprise with a bow and a swift turn back to Rainbow and Diamondflame, whose unmistakable mindvoice rang in her head, the true anger beneath his civility clear to her.

However discourteous, Moonwind is not wrong, Protector. And justice calls. Name us to these mortals, if you will, and proceed.

So she did, conscious of how thin even her command voice must sound after Diamondflame's. She gave each dragon the dignities she could, including any parentage of Guild apprentices, then bowed to the enormous basilisk.

"Forgive me, elder, but I do not know your name."

"I am Haarist'aaniar'aan, Protector, and the eldest living of my kind." The bass whisper was being boosted by magic, though Kel didn't know whose, and carried as clearly as any mindvoice. "The dragons relayed to me your request, and I answer it in honour and concern."

"Thank you, Haarist'aaniar'aan."

He inclined his huge head, and she went on to name the stormwings, from Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh to Amourta, perched between Barzha and Cloestra. All the stormwings had washed and laughter flickered within her rage, but a certain smell of death came with them all the same, not wrongly, and her gaze slipped back to Lord Fujiwara, seeing the shock and fear naked on his face.

"And so your doubts must die, Lord Fujiwara. Here are those the guilty have offended. Will you now prate more of what authority you do or do not care to recognise?"

Immortal eyes rested on him, not kindly, and she felt him quail.

"But if we proceed in justice, we must have facts. And there are needs to be considered. Lady Skysong, especially, is distressed that she had to kill, and fears she did wrong, for to use dragonfire against flesh is a terrible thing, as I alone among mortals know to my cost." Without looking she knew Diamondflame and Moonwing alike agreed with that, and that Yamanis were reconsidering tales they had heard. "Amiir'aan too regrets that he had to use the rockspell to kill. So let us first establish for all exactly what happened today, and hear the judgement of their own elders upon the actions these younglings chose." She turned back to the dragons, addressing both Rainbow and Diamondflame. "My lords, might you lift Ebony and Button, so all may see what they saw from my collar and Blessed Count Domitan's?"

We might, Protector, and have brought others to aid their display.

Rainbow's mindvoice was bland, in so far as a dragon's could be, and a thick trickle of darkness flowed from his neck to join Ebony and Button, who leapt from her shoulder and Dom's. A sparkle of multicoloured dragon magic lifted the darking huddle into the air, where it shifted and spread into a great curved sheet visible to all, though those closest to Mibu-oji had to turn and crane their necks. After some swift, confusing swirls of colour, the scene that appeared was of her just outside the temple door, Dom approaching it, and the views of Ebony and Button were seamlessly combined.

Remorselessly events played out, and Kel was shocked by her own speed as her naginata whipped down to intercept the crossbow bolt, far more by luck than judgement — if there was any room for luck in all this. Without Lord Sakuyo's warning, setting her so sharply on edge, she would never have managed it, and in the gap before the ronin appeared she sensed the dragons' fierce attention and felt her own emotions shift complexly towards greater gratitude, resentment at his long silence ebbing. But as the ronin captain made his absurd, vicious demands, Rainbow supplying the words in a mindvoice that perfectly imitated the man, and the fight began, Kel's concentration was on the experiences of Dom and Tobe, Kitten and Amiir'aan, denied her during the reality.

It had been as the first poor spidren was overborne and killed that the chief kamunushi had run for the swords of law and duty, and they had barely been thrust into Dom's and Tobe's hands before the fall of the two samurai obliged her to join the mêlée and be forced sideways. The ronin who had moved to assail the doorway had been led by a thickset, powerful man, and her heart was wrenched as she saw Dom lead with his whole leg and a single blade, utterly trusting Tobe to

block the assailant's ko-wazikashi, as he did, both deflecting it and striking with a turning blade to cut deep into the man's wrist. His shock allowed Dom to strike at his neck, felling him, but three were pushing forward over his falling body, and she saw herself begin the manoeuvre that would have cost her her life but for Kitten — whose snout was whipping back and forth between Kel's assailants and those ranging themselves against Dom and Tobe. Time stretched, as it had then, and she saw Dom's blade skewer one man as Amiir'aan's mouth opened and the rock-spell struck the heads of the other two, while a frantic Kitten whirled her snout and with a paw snapping to full extension sent her firebolt searing through Kel's own third opponent — and angled up, as Kel had not appreciated at the time, to strike that man alone and vanish in the air beyond. Then Kravimal and his flankers rushed from the trees to charge the ronin, mortal heads and legs flying away with the force of their strikes, and the display lasted long enough to show Jonathan's blue bolts striking ronin down before it faded, and the darkings sank bank to a great blob on the earth of Sorei. Ebony and Button returned to her and Dom, and she thanked them before turning to hold out a hand. Amiir'aan reluctantly released his grips on his mother's and stepfather's paws to come to her side. She squatted to face him at his own level.

"You have my profound thanks, Amiir'aan. But hear now the judgement of your elder."

Mindful of the sheer size of Haarist'aaniar'aan, and basilisks' relative inflexibility, she lifted Amiir'aan to stand on her shoulders, putting them eye to eye.

"Thank you, Protector, that is helpful. Tell me, young Amiir'aan, what you were thinking as you made the decision to kill that we have seen?"

The magic amplification worked for Amiir'aan too, but after the elder's voice his fluting whisper was thin, his youth painfully audible.

"The Protector had told us to defend ourselves at any cost, if we had to, and the idea worried Skysong, so as her elder I felt responsible for her as well as myself. I waited as long as I could, but I did not think Domitan and Tobeis could defend against three so I used the rock-spell."

"And why did you strike their heads only?"

"My power is weak, and I feared to petrify only their armour, so I struck at their heads. And by angling the spell upwards I could be sure it would not hurt others." Kel felt his weight shift a little. "I cannot regret their deaths, but I regret my need."

"That is well. And your power is not weak for your age, Amiir'aan. Quite the opposite. I commend your control and your reasoning, and I see nothing in your actions of which you should not be proud. Return now to your mother."

"Thank you, Eldest."

Kel could hear the relief in Amiir'aan's voice, and gently set him down, reiterating her own gratitude and giving him a quick hug before holding out a hand for Kitten, who even more reluctantly released Tobe's hand.

"Come now, Kit, and let Ancestor Rainbow know your thoughts."

They went to stand before the blind dragon, who lowered his head to face Kitten. Seeing his magic swirl to envelop someone else was strange, and besides the memories of her own interrogation by magic after the siege Kel was aware of a swirling sideways wash of mental communication. Glancing swiftly round, she thought other dragons must be receiving whatever Rainbow was seeing, and as his magic withdrew his mindvoice confirmed it.

Be easy, Skysong. You did nothing wrong and much right. Your strike was necessary, and though you thought to save another rather than yourself, the threat was aimed at you and the Protector fought on your behalf. You rightly delayed as long as you could in hope no strike would be needed, and when it was, you made it with sure power and perfect control, remarkable in one so young. Yet that youth also inevitably magnifies your proper regret for the death you caused, and your grandsire can aid you with that burden. The great blind head turned slowly from side to side. Does any other have aught to say of this?

Jadewing had a look Kel thought might be a dragon frown.

How old is Skysong now?

"She has fifteen years, Lord Jadewing."

So few? Then her power and control are indeed remarkable. My congratulations, youngling. I could not have done anything like that at your age, nor for centuries more.

Nor I. Moonwind's mindvoice had become much more thoughtful. It is true that in the Dragonlands Skysong would not have faced this danger, but plainly she can cope with the dangers she does face here.

Other dragons agreed, and Kel could see Kitten's relief, but the air of shaken misery about the dragonet was still strong, and she looked a query at Diamondflame, who extended a vast paw.

Come now, Skysong, and let me aid your sorrow.

Kel had to lift a shaking Kitten into Diamondflame's grip, and the brief look she and Diamondflame shared as magic enveloped the dragonet was as filled with compassion as rage at the need for it. His mindvoice came to her alone, tinged with regret.

My warnings when I taught her the firespell were fierce for good reason, as you will understand, but she has taken them too much to heart. Yet all will be well, Keladry. She is but shocked, and a first death always weighs. Only find for us now those who forced her to this choice.

Kel nodded, and turned, surveying daïs and crowd. Imperial faces were utterly still, though eyes roved over the dragons, and silence possessed the crowd. Lord Fujiwara was managing to mask his fear, barely, but awe and terror could be seen all around.

"All have now seen exactly what happened. If I had not had divine warning Lady Skysong would have died. I assumed it was Lord Sakuyo, and the dragons confirm it, so I offer that High One my own thanks, and those of the Guild."

She paused to offer a bow, meant for Sakuyo, if he chose to respond, but Rainbow spoke first.

I add the thanks of dragons. The god's care for our kit is noted.

Thunder cracked, though the sky was clear, and Yamani faces that came back to her as echoes faded and she went on showed more shock.

"So we are assured Lord Sakuyo listens, as many gods do, for this was no simple crime. No band of ronin would make such an assault unless they had been well paid, and whoever gave their orders struck not only at Yaman's honour, but at all the Guild has achieved. And were themselves wholly honourless, for the strike was at the youngest of her kind. A child." She took a breath, banking down rage again, and this time no-one interrupted. "It is immortal justice that must be served now, and its ways are beyond mortals, but it is important all understand what passes." She turned. "Lord Rainbow, might the griffins attend us?"

They come now, Protector.

Kel was used to Junior's parents descending with ringing cries, but the pair Kit had reported sensing came out of the darkness in silence, feathers gleaming in the torchlight as they landed. Their colours looked lighter too, but the haughty faces were very similar, and they ignored all save the dragons, to whom they briefly bent heads. After a moment Rainbow mindspoke their unpronouncable names for all to hear, then named Kel to them as the Protector, who asked their aid in justice. They stalked across to her, acknowledging her bow with curt nods, and at her gesture flanked a space before her.

"You of Yaman are familiar with the sight of these griffins, who dwell in the mountains here, but lacking one to communicate with them have had no dealings with their power. Learn now what that power is." She sought the face she wanted, near the daïs. "His Imperial Majesty tells me, Isao-sensei, that your honesty is known to all. Might I ask you to join me for a moment, of your kindness?"

He was an elderly man, wrinkled and white haired in a plain robe, and his nervous surprise was clear.

"Me, Blessed Protector-sensei? Of course."

He used a stick to walk, and she went to meet him in courtesy, offering an arm as she guided him to stand between the griffins.

"It is a simple thing that is needed, sensei. In the presence of a griffin, no mortal can lie nor utter anything they know to be untrue. Would you please make the attempt, that all may know it is so."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and suddenly a smile lit the old face.

"Such style as well as power, Blessed, to ask this of one who has taken pride in honesty."

He turned to one side and the other, bowing to the griffins, and then faced the daïs.

"My name is Isao. I am a poet. I was born in this province seventy-si — " His voice grated to silence. "Seventy -se — … Seventy -f — … seventy-eight years ago." Wonder came to his face. "I do not like sa — … I do like sake, sometimes too much. Ah now, such a thing. The Blessed Protector spoke the truth. Praise bronze-gold griffins, whose stern grace will hear no lie : brazen featherlight."

What griffins made of haiku Kel had no idea, but they had passed it as true, and the old man's spontaneous composition caught Yamani sensibilities. She found her own sense of humour tickled, not least by the look on Jonathan's face, and thought Lord Sakuyo approved too. The Emperor certainly did, rising to offer the old man a salute, hand over heart with a brief bow, which many others echoed more deeply.

"Thank you, Isao-sensei."

"The honour is mine, Blessed."

At her glance Tobe came to offer his arm, and escorted the old man back to his place as she once more raised her voice.

"Only truth may be spoken in their presence. Know also that in this proceeding there is no right of silence. Anyone accused can clear themselves by declaring innocence before the griffins, and if innocent must do so, for refusal to deny will be taken as proof of guilt, and acted on. And though

griffins cannot compel any to answer, others here can, and will. Kravimal-sama, please bring in your prisoner."

She had not wanted the distraction of the trussed assassin, nor to give any bolt from the dark a chance to silence him permanently, and the surviving spidrens had waited outside Sorei with their burden. Now they came forward, two awkward on seven legs, and Kravimal revealed his own sense of theatre, rolling the man downslope to fetch up at her feet. She knelt to prop him up, resting his web-swathed back against her knee.

"Know that this one fired the crossbow bolt and was caught before he could escape. He has refused to speak, saying only that if he dies silently he dies alone, but if he speaks his kin will be punished for it. Perhaps that is so, but his refusal cannot be permitted. The Stone Tree Nation attends us, and I call on them now of their grace to force him to speech, here between the griffins where whatever he utters must be truth."

The stormwings cackled as they launched themselves from branches into brief glides, landing to face her in a ring. Any mortal reaction was frozen as the saw-toothed croon began, and she braced herself against the fear she too would feel, but felt magic grip her and heard Diamondflame's private voice.

Your willingness is typical, Protector, but there is no need for you to endure this again.

She was relieved and grateful, but thanks would have to wait. The assassin was already writhing in his bonds, sweat beading his face, and she grasped his shoulder with one hand and his hair with the other, forcing him to face the swaying, tightening circle of immortals. Steel feathers flashed firelight into his eyes, and he cried wordless terror. Abstractly she felt the cruelty of it, and the justice, for it would be his fears for his kin, designed to ensure his silence against all chance, that were being turned against him to make him speak. He had soiled himself, and magic did not save her from the stench, but she didn't move.

"Who gave you orders?" Barzha was almost on him, her voice deadly sweet between steel teeth. "Only speech can ease you, mortal." The saw-toothed croon dug deeper into his mind. "Who gave you orders?"

Barzha extended her wings towards his head, and as the tips drew blood from his temples the shriek burst from him.

"Yutaka noh Kuhaku."

The name meant nothing to Kel but his voice had been amplified for all to hear and she was aware of Yamanis stirring and soldiers departing at a run as Prince Eitaro snapped orders. And Barzha was not finished.

"What were your orders?"

He shivered in her grasp, his voice empty. "To kill the dragon thing."

"When and where were you ordered to do this?"

"Two days ago, in the garden of his house."

"Why did he order this?"

"I don't know."

That was truth, like the rest, and Kel had expected it, but Barzha could see his face and asked

again.

"Have you killed on his orders before?"

"Yes."

"Whom did you kill?"

"Hotaka. A kamunushi of Sakuyo." Barzha didn't need to press him any more, for words were draining from his mouth like water through a leak in rotten wood. "Before that, Goro noh Toshiaki, a bureaucrat."

Both names caused more stirring, and Kel assumed the kamunushi had been the one who challenged Lord Fujiwara on his beliefs, but still Barzha pressed on.

"Why did you accept his orders to kill?"

"He paid well, and is dangerous to refuse."

"Why?"

"He is a broker for the great who need such services as mine."

Barzha's gaze met Kel's. "He has suspicions, Protector, but no sure knowledge, for he took care never to confirm them. And his soul was emptied years ago. He has killed many more than these two he names."

"Let him then name all his victims to a samurai of the Imperial Guard, with witnesses, as the price of his release to the Black God, but vile as his other crimes may be they cannot detain us. And we have a name, Your Majesty. You should return to the trees."

Barzha nodded, and the stormwings stepped back, lumbering into awkward lift-offs and circling to perch again. At Kel's gesture two samurai guards came forward and lifted the assassin, face slack. Free of his weight, she stood, and after making sure the samurai had heard what was needed, and seen them take the man aside, her eyes sought Eitaro's. She registered that Yuki, Keiichi, and Neal had joined her parents at the side of the daïs.

"Your Imperial Highness, is this man Yutaka noh Kuhaku known?"

"He is, Blessed. He holds shoen in the north, and trades in rice here, but is also, as that traitor said, known as a broker and middleman for loans and favours. I have ordered his arrest and transport here, if he can be found and taken alive."

"Thank you. But it would seem, then, that he would only have passed orders, not originated them."

"So I would think also, Blessed."

"And if so, he and the man he passed the orders to should not face justice alone. Yet who knows how long the chain might be? One who would order the murder of a dragon, a kit both under His Imperial Majesty's protection and within a shrine, would have reason to make it long indeed, and to find the custom of seppuku as convenient as murder. So I must assume it is on this they rely, as on the limitations of mortal enquiry and justice in such a case."

She took a breath, not looking at Lord Fujiwara directly but aware of the strain in every line of his body.

"But this is not mortal justice, and there is one power that can find those we seek directly, the Wild Hunt, whose hounds scent the guilt they pursue. Nor may any escape them. It is true the Wild Hunt is not of Yaman, and would not of itself come here ; and most true that neither I nor any mortal may command them, for their master is Lord Weiryn. But it is also true that his major shrine is at New Hope, that he has favoured us in the past with presence and gifts, and that the hounds of the Hunt are in another matter my sworn allies, granted free run of my woods for guarding travellers on the Great North Road as it passes through my lands. In so far as a mortal may so presume, I count the lead couple, Wuodan and Frige, as friends, and so have asked the permission of Lord Mithros to request their aid, with Lord Weiryn's. That permission having been granted, as His and Her Majesty, and His Imperial Highness, can attest, with the chief kamunushi of Kiyomizu -dera" — she knelt, lifting her arms — "I do now pray to Lord Weiryn, of his grace, for the aid of the Wild Hunt in finding those who sought to murder Lady Skysong, and for their own ends risked all that begins at New Hope."

The last bit was carefully worded, for Kel very much doubted that Fujiwara — and whoever he decided such things with — had given what the Guild and New Hope truly represented any thought at all. They thought this an internal Yamani matter, and though fear of immortals and dislike of closer contact with them had played in, Kitten's death had been intended as a means, not an end, the very lack of concern about the consequences speaking volumes. But for whatever reasons of their own, both dragons and gods cared about the co-operation New Hope embodied, and as Sakuyu's intervention showed clearly, the gods would not have their new and fragile peace with dragons marred by the death of a kit even younger than poor Runt had been. There was the murder of the kamunushi as well, and the impiety of the politicised Sakuyan priesthood ; but also ironies Kel knew she barely grasped, from Kit's history of scolding Lord Mithros to her Mama's defence of the swords there, and the circle her own life had made from that moment to this. She had thought that a part of Lord Sakuyo's ongoing jest with her until Moonwind had mentioned the Timeway ; but gods saw that as well or better than dragons, so the possibilities were not mutually exclusive, and fitted horribly well with another — for she really had in some way been trying to save the swords herself for most of her life, both her creation and defence of New Hope stemming from that impossible urge. And now her husband and son had used the swords while she had been helpless only feet away. It was too shrewd a stroke not to be Lord Sakuyo's, though how he had got the chief kamunushi thinking it his own idea was a mystery. But however that might be, and whatever Lord Mithros's reservations, her plea to the gods, absurd and irregular as it was, had served sufficient ends they all desired ; and whatever the political repercussions, the act itself would be a precise thing, swift and complete, striking once and for all to the core. So she prayed in expectation, not hope, and as silver flared was puzzled by how little of it there was until it cleared to show only Wuodan, a gleaming staff held in his mouth. The griffins rose, bating, and took paces back.

The crowd's silence had deepened again, shock gripping them as they saw the great hound's size and the red hunting fires in his eyes. He padded to within a few feet of her, looking down with an expression she couldn't read, and she knew what change it was Lord Mithros had insisted on but not what it meant.

"Don't tell me, Wuodan. Lord Weiryn cannot leave his lands, because of the hundred-year rule."

True, Protector. But with our consent he is willing you should lead us yourself in this hunt, if you will.

Fighting shock of her own, she spoke carefully, thinking of Tobe's warning. "What cost will I bear?"

Well, you won't grow horns. But you won't be quite mortal while you hold the staff, and shouldn't dawdle while you do. Its power is a lot greater than yours to sustain it, and you'll run out of yours

quite quickly. So you will need to make the charge you lay on us when you call us to hunt both exact and limited.

"I cannot run with you as Lord Weiryn would."

He rides sometimes. As you can. We asked the horse god, who thinks well of Peachblossom, and so of you. He has agreed.

Kel blinked. "So I take the staff, ride a god, and if I overdo it I'll die."

More or less. But you'd have to do something very silly to die. It is only that the staff was not designed for mortal use.

"Has any other mortal ever so led you, Wuodan?"

One, once, a long time ago, often while he lived and once after his death, when we hunted the mortal who had slain him.

That sounded hopeful, so only one thing remained. "Thank you. And you, with Frige and your fellows, are content I should be the second? Does Lord Mithros or any other oblige you in this against your own free judgement and will?"

He cocked his head. You really are a very interesting mortal, Protector, but you needn't worry. It was our suggestion. Weiryn considers it a poor second-best to leading us himself, and is less than pleased with Mithros, but finds it right the Hunt be called for this. And we are eager to find those who would harm Skysong, who delights and amuses all.

That was a logic Kel could understand, and Wuodan's plain speaking was as always refreshing. Daine was right that, divine or mortal, the People were often much more sensible than two-leggers.

"Then I accept, Wuodan, with thanks to you and all your companions, and to Lord Weiryn. I just take the staff, and keep a grip?"

You do.

So she did, and the world changed.

§

The first coherent thought that persuaded Kel she might still, somewhere, be herself was a memory of Daine, scowling sincerity at her after magicking Alder.

Just imagine, Kel, what it would be like to have one of the gods suddenly inflate your brain to work more like their own.

She hadn't been able to, of course, and owed Alder a profound apology. Beyond the pain, like a headache in every hair, it was utterly confusing, but slowly she realised that there was knowledge and there was power, but they were and were not the same. The world she sensed glittered with knowledge, if she would know it. She had no access to thoughts other than her own, for which she was deeply grateful, but if her will was concerned with a thing, be it a tree or a person, knowledge of it would come to her. And so the trick was not willing it, unless you needed to — for her, now, a vital lesson, or she would burn out in minutes, but a great deal about the gods' failings also became abruptly clear. As the thought occurred, she knew that she was in the slow

time gods commanded at need, and that this was granted her of their power, or the staff's, not draining her own limited resources. Ruthlessly she closed her eyes and sank into her lake, seeking again Sakuyo's calm, her Yamani stillness, and when she found it she spent a long moment separating herself from the pain, which she let wash through her as water through a net until it could be ignored, and tightly binding her normal curiosity. For now one thing alone mattered, one pure purpose of this gift, and when it was all done she opened herself to a little more understanding.

Wuodan's advice had been sound. Without yet knowing anything about them in detail, as she thought of the guilty she must seek she could sense their rough numbers and range, and set about reducing them to what was possible. Inevitably, many had seen one or more of the ronin as they assembled, wondering where such might be going yet raising no alarm, but that earned no blame. Others had suspected what was intended without truly knowing, and they also were beneath this justice. But few had known with certainty, and fewer still formed the narrow chain of relayed orders, leading to the knot of those who had not obeyed but commanded ; those who had decided, and must die for it. Some were moving away, not yet ten miles from the city, others present already, and she came smoothly to her feet, staff in her hand, feeling time flow faster again — and laughed, for patient Wuodan could not hunt alone. When she raised it the staff gleamed silver.

"Come to me, hounds of the Hunt!"

They poured into the world, silver flaring, and she greeted them by couples with the names she knew as she saw them, one hand resting on Wuodan's high shoulder, and Frige now flanking her on the other side, tongue lolling. And after them, at the last, came a stallion, hands higher than any she had ever seen and the deepest, shining black. She bowed, knowing his name too, because the courtesy was necessary even though, like all the animal gods, he had little interest in it.

"Greetings, Lord Arawn, with my profound thanks for the grace you do me."

You are owed for Peachblossom, Protector. And I will enjoy the run.

She smiled at the practicality, utterly unaware of her effect on those who watched.

"Even so. Will you listen now to the charge I give the Hunt, and observe it?"

I will. You learn fast. Wuodan and the Badger both said you did.

Kel's bound curiosity stirred at the thought of that conversation, but she suppressed it, clearing her mind again. But a different thought came, and she considered what she knew, finding no impediment.

"I try. And some we seek flee us even now."

Then let us ride. You will not fall, though I will bear no bridle or saddle, and none shall outpace us.

Which was, Kel thought, only half the problem, but resources were to hand. Just now, though, she had a horse whose back was at least four hands higher than Alder's or Peachblossom's to mount, and no stirrup, but she also had a staff, and carefully transferring it to her left hand ran forward, twisted to fist her free hand in his mane, and pushed up, unsurprised to find herself astride him and divine magic gripping her legs. The hounds whined and yipped, eyes burning with their eagerness to run, and when they affirmed that they knew the crime they were called to punish, a great wash of mindvoices, she laid out their charge, as exactly as she had to — those who had of their own free will passed and enforced the assassin's orders or those to the ronin, those who had known of them as certainty, and those who had decided upon and issued those orders ; the most distant to be

taken first. Wuodan listened with cocked ears, and looked his approval as she finished, the flames in his eyes brightening, but she held up a hand.

"Three small things, first." She looked at Kravimal. "Unless the Emperor commands otherwise, Kravimal-sama, allow none of rank to leave before we return."

He nodded, and her simple will had Arawn walking forward and turning, without the least pressure from knees. He stopped before Diamondflame, in whose paw Kitten had uncurled at last and was sitting up, watching, her face still unwontedly solemn.

"Lady Skysong, we ride in your name. Will you ride with us, and help us hunt down those who would have harmed you?"

Can I?

"If you wish it, Lord Arawn will bear you before me. The hounds hunt in justice for you, and I think it fitting you should. But it is your choice, without fear or favour however you decide."

The dragonet looked up at her grandsire, but then, interestingly, at Amiir'aan, and seemed to square her shoulders.

I owe Amiir'aan a debt, and you, Kel, so although I do not relish this hunt as I should, I will come. How do I get up? I cannot jump that high.

Kel's eyes again met Diamondflame's in shared laughter and pain, and she was unsurprised when Kit floated gently up to land in front of her, paws grasping Arawn's mane. But she felt his surprise when her gaze swung around the arc of dragons to Moonwind, and she spoke again.

"Is there any other, capable of keeping up with the Hunt in full cry, who would fly with us, that a dragon of age may witness what passes?"

They will allow this?

Moonwind's voice was as shocked as Kel had ever heard a dragon, and she knew the grace of her own brief nod.

"The decision is mine, and I acknowledge your true concerns. It comes to me also that you might find comfort in this, though there will be labour in it."

The pale dragon understood her but Jadewing didn't.

Labour, Protector? What do you mean?

"Not all the guilty we seek will survive being chased back here by the Hunt, my lord. Their hearts will fail them, not from shame or fear but only age and exhaustion. Lord Arawn cannot bear them all, nor the hounds, but dragons could."

Oh. Right. That makes sense. I'll carry them, if you want.

And I. Diamondflame and Rainbow were right about you, however I dislike it.

Moonwind looked at the senior dragons, and Kel had to suppress what she might know of the complex wave of mindthought between them, shot through with pride, rue, humility, and irritation. She would have raised the staff to start things and cut it off, but there was another and welcome distraction.

"May we fly with the Hunt also, Protector?"

She looked at Barzha. "Of course, Your Majesty, and feed at your pleasure, if you will channel your power to our service once more."

Stormwings cackled, and Barzha smiled her austere smile.

"Gladly, Protector. And I ask Wuodan, Frige, and all of the Hunt that they consider what our aid might achieve, as we will consider what a sustaining purpose in times of peace might mean."

That was something Kel hadn't even thought of, and she filed it away, sparkling with promise, and raised the staff, knowing the hounds could run in air, that Arawn could gallop where he wished. The goddess's hounds pealed somewhere, joining the clamour of the Hunt, and battlecries joined thunder, though she didn't know who could hear them besides her, and it didn't matter as the Wild Hunt took to the skies, dragons and stormwings exploding into flight after them.

As the sounds faded, a long minute after the astounding sight had been lost in the dark sky, the Emperor finally gave up staring after it, and sat, a hand rubbing his neck as he looked at his guests, then his brother.

"You did say, Eitaro, but I hadn't quite … imagined it rightly."

"Nor I, Daichi, for all I saw the lead couple at her wedding. And I don't think even she was expecting that horse! Nor to lead them. I wonder what the hound said to her."

"Or the horse, to make her smile like that! I thought my heart might stop."

"I'm not sure mine didn't, Daichi." Jonathan blew out a long breath. "But Keladry seems to take more or less anything in her stride. I did warn you — runaway horses, remember? Literally, as it turns out."

Thayet batted his arm, but without force. "Tobeis might know what was said, Daichi — he was closer to Kel, and has horse magic."

But a summoned Blessed Tobeis, accompanied by a wary Blessed Domitan, only shrugged.

"Wuodan and Lord Arawn — he's the male horse god, Var'istaan says — were speaking privately to Ma, Your Imperial Majesty, so I don't think anyone else will have heard. But from what she said, Lord Mithros wouldn't let Lord Weiryn come, because he's bound to his lands for a century after they made the Green Lady a god, but they let Ma take his place. She was worried about a hidden price, and there are limits to what is allowed, but Wuodan reassured her."

"And her smile at Lord Arawn?"

"Who knows?" The boy's voice was reverent. "Wasn't he gorgeous? I just wish poor Peachblossom was here to see it. In Tortall we sometimes say something makes horse sense, and I bet he made some she liked. Something practical amid all this fuss."

"Fuss?"

Blessed Tobeis nodded, perfectly serious. "Lord Sakuyo's playing jokes, idiots tried to harm Kitten so immortals are angry, and gods are arguing. Fuss. But it's just Ma getting things done, Your Imperial Majesty, when others won't." He blushed charmingly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to — "

"No, no." The Emperor waved a faint hand. "You are not wrong. But the Protector does not seem to see obstacles that for others loom large."

"Tell me, Daichi. But it looks like you're going to be down a nest of traitors as well as a multiple murderer, without lifting a finger yourself."

Blessed Tobeis gave his king a sidelong look, but spoke directly. "Ma just believes in using the resources available, Your Imperial Majesty. You didn't have them, but the gods did and weren't using them. I bet she feels they've been slacking."

"Slacking." Even to his own ears the Emperor's voice sounded hollow.

"She does tend to think that way, I'm afraid, Your Imperial Majesty." Blessed Domitan's voice was apologetic. "It's because they didn't clean up properly after Uusoae, and a lot of people suffered as a result, including her. But forgive me, I must make my duty to the dragons and" — he concentrated — "Haarist'aaniar'aan, and if you will allow the presumption, I believe you and Prince Eitaro and Their Majesties should too. Dragons value courtesy greatly, we have found, and basilisks."

The Emperor blew out a breath. "Wise and terrifying advice, Blessed Domitan-sama. If I can manage to stand."

"You said you wanted to meet real dragons, Daichi." "So I did, brother. And I do. It's just …" "I know. But we're already being rude."

He found his hands holding Reiko's and Taikyuu's tightly and a genuine fear in his belly approaching the vast creatures, but it was clear Blessed Tobeis at least, though most respectful, felt none, and seemed to think of Lord Diamondflame as a very large variety of favourite uncle, asking anxiously if Skysong would be alright. Reassured, the boy also made light work of necessary introductions, in his surprisingly good Yamani, and great eyes, seeing and milkily opaque, rested on him as he offered a formal apology for the affront to Lady Skysong while his most esteemed guest.

The Protector and a god have shielded you, Daichi noh Takuji, and we hold no grudge. Had Skysong died in this mortal foolishness, it might be otherwise.

Lord Diamondflame's head turned. It would be otherwise, Rainbow. My granddaughter is not one to lose, as even Jadewing could see. And as she will not cease to travel the mortal realms for some time, it is no ill thing to remind these mortals that to threaten the kit is to draw the elder. Besides, Keladry is being very interesting again, and not only with Moonwind, priceless as that was. And turned back. Yaman as much as Tortall made the Protector as she is, Daichi noh Takuji, and there are matters I would understand better. Tell me, please, about these swords her mother once saved that have today been used.

That had been the last thing on his mind, but the story that unfolded as many Blesseds were drawn in — honoured Ilane and so-useful Piers, with Jonathan, and a reluctant Domitan-sama and wise young Tobeis-chan — had a commanding pattern. Thinking also of that astonishing book, so potent and uncertain, he glimpsed for a moment the complexity of Lord Sakuyo's jest — a rebuke across generations, tickling Yaman out of proud isolation and using Keladry-chan as she used the Hunt, gaijin tools perfectly to hand and shining so brightly, just as he had written ; a jest on and with and through her, yet a great gift to her, and to all. Though it would never occur to her, Keladry-chan had already outdone her mother, for if honoured Ilane had defeated one party of

Scanran raiders, her astonishing daughter had won the treaty that stopped all such at their source. But disbelieve in herself as she so humbly might, after tonight the Blessed Protector-sensei's name and her unspoken, blazing rebuke, to attitudes as much as practices, would occupy the poets for ever. Honoured Ilane had saved the swords of law of duty, so Blesseds Domitan and Tobeis could wield them, but Keladry-chan embodied them, terrible and beautiful, ruthless and kind. And finding it merely her practical duty to summon dragons, a huge basilisk, stormwings, griffins, and great fire-eyed hounds from thin air before mounting a god and riding off into that same air as they swirled after her, white rage and marvellous absurdity spiralling into the terrible laughter of the gods. He found Jonathan's hand on his shoulder and met eyes that understood.

"I had a moment like that, once, during the siege. It's what I was trying to tell you before, but I don't have the words even in Tortallan. They are gods." His voice became thoughtful. "It's like their voices — we aren't meant to hear them truly, because mortals can't bear them, any more than we can bear their laughter. But since the Black God sent her back Keladry can, not often or for long, but in a way beyond the rest of us." He shrugged. "Nothing we can do anything about, anyway. Come and meet the big basilisk — he's asking Roald and Shinko about New Hope and saying he ought to see what his kin have been building while he's here."

Kel thought of the power flowing through her from the staff as a river, not only capable of eroding but certain to do so, and was using it as sparingly as she could — which was easier than she'd expected. Even in that first wild rush she had only given a signal : it was within the hounds' power to run in air, and Arawn's, and they knew their direction. She had only to wait, holding Kit, as action released the pressure of rage and self-mockery flickered in the thought that she, of all people, was flying yet again.

Nor had the furthest knot of the fleeing guilty been a problem — Lord Shoji with two guilty companions and ten innocent guards cantering away from the city and breaking to a frantic gallop as they saw their pursuit. But none could outpace the Hunt, and mindful of their horses she asked Arawn if he might command them, sharing knowledge of the three who were lawful prey. She felt his amusement, and ten surprised samurai found their horses bolting away from the road, unmolested by circling hounds, while the horses of the guilty bucked hard enough to throw their riders cleanly from their saddles into the bordering hedge, and followed. A hovering Moonwind plucked the three up, and that was that.

The other fugitive was still easier, Yutaka noh Kuhaku riding with a single servant, brought to a dead halt by stormwings and lifted clean from his saddle by Jadewing with a shriek of terror. But of the other six she needed, three were within the Fujiwara compound, and three within almost adjacent noble compounds, in the blocks west of the Daidairi and north of the Temple District — men she knew, without pressing the thought, who had passed Fujiwara's orders or that he had told of his decision because he had desired their voices when the news came, who had done nothing to prevent him, and avoided the Emperor's summons. They would have sworn samurai guards in every compound, innocent save in loyalty ; nor would they have been at Sorei to see for themselves, and who knew what they might have heard? Mortal weapons could not harm the Hunt, but they could hurt all the same, and stormwings were vulnerable. She called Wuodan to her side as the last fields slid beneath and the city loomed, sharing with stormwings and dragons what she knew and wanted.

"The three first, then the loners. Let the dragons and me confront the guard, Your Majesty, while the Stone Tree Nation shapes terror from beyond bow-shot, and Wuodan leads the hounds in from above, to chase forth those we want."

She felt Wuodan's sharp approval, with stormwings' and dragons' agreement, and as Arawn

brought her down to the street before the Fujiwara compound, the stormwings slowed to hover in a wide bowl two hundred feet up. Jadewing was above her, Moonwind on the far side. Fear joined the sheer startlement on the faces that peered through the wide iron gates in the defensive wall, and she raised her voice.

"Samurai of Lord Fujiwara, your house shelters three the Wild Hunt seek, and you cannot stop us taking them to justice. You stand innocent, but strike at us and that will change, for the Hunt may not be impeded. Stand aside."

It was simple enough, but so was the samurai code of loyalty, and despite the beating stormwing fear men were forming up behind the gate, preparing to die in a hopeless and unjust cause. A captain even answered her, duty overriding the tremors in his voice.

"None may enter here against us."

"Brave but wrong, captain. Last chance." Belling calls and a scream from within the compound snapped his head round to see the hounds pouring in through windows, eyes blazing, before his eyes came back to her in a new agony of indecision. "Your defences are breached and our prey started."

All the samurai were frozen, and at her gesture stormwings pulsed distracting power while Jadewing let his tail whip down to slap the gates from their hinges and bowl the guards over like skittles. There would be bruises and perhaps broken bones, but she had asked him not to kill and he looked to have judged it to a nicety ; nor would any be getting up again in a hurry, even if they could, for wide cones of his green magic pressed down like water on either side of her. Arawn took her into the courtyard as screaming servants began to burst from the house only to find themselves flying towards danger as well as from it. Their terror was needless and unfair, their noise irritating, and she put just enough power in her voice to rise above it all.

"Be silent, and move aside. The Hunt harms none but its lawful prey."

It wasn't much of a silence, broken by fearful whimpers and the groans of fallen samurai, but it was a vast improvement. And as the three who were lawful prey were driven before her, she knew them — Fujiwara's wife, elegant face unpainted and twisted with fear ; his brother, hand bleeding where a hound had relieved him of a sword ; and last, wheezing and hobbling with Wuodan snapping remorselessly at her heels, his mother. She too was unpainted, and beneath the fear and outrage Kel could see the old woman's bitterness and hate, her hopeless and consuming desire for the power she must once have expected as an emperor's wife or mother-in-law. This was where the recklessness had come from, but words could wait, and the old woman's frailty was real enough.

She raised the staff, a mere gesture, using no power, and Moonwing's pale magic scooped up wife and brother. Kel reached down to grasp the old woman by the scruff of her robe and deposit her over Arawn's withers in front of Kit, who planted a paw glowing with magic on the bent back.

Stay still, or I'll press harder.

Whether it was common sense or just breathlessness, Kel didn't know and didn't need to, but the woman was still, and Arawn turned, cantering out and down the street to the next compound, hounds flowing around him. Stormwings and dragons followed above, captives dangling from great paws. The remaining targets were close enough that all had seen, and as she had hoped there was no further need to fight. The same samurai code that would make men die for their lord's honour dictated that lord's self-sacrifice when hope failed, and if the Hunt alone, so alien to Yamani culture, might not have been enough so swiftly, the dragons were. Two of the lords who had known what was to happen had to be fetched out by the hounds before they could commit

seppuku, her awareness of it sending Wuodan and Frige bounding clean over guards who tried to stand aside, but at the last compound the lord was waiting to surrender himself. This close to Sorei she saw no reason for immortals to be burdened with fit men, and the hounds made them jog through the streets, while she sent the dragons ahead to deposit their burdens.

Sai-oji was largely clear, though faces stared from behind gates and windows, but as they turned onto Niko-oji they came to the rear of the great crowd surrounding Sorei. She didn't want anyone hurt, and a word drew the Hunt into a narrower column while stormwings flew low ahead, calling warnings to stand aside and make way, to offer no harm and take none. People parted like water before a boat's prow, but they could see the stumbling lords and the still figure on whom Kitten's paw still rested, and knew they were not threatened, their faces filling more with wonder than with fear. At least they weren't shouting her name or title, as Tortallans would have been, and even the great burble of sound from those at Sorei died away as the stormwings returned to the branches, the hounds chased the stumbling lords in, and Arawn followed.

The guilty were huddled between spidren guards and griffins in a space before the arc of dragons, the still trussed assassin among them. Lord Fujiwara was staring with a horrified face at his wife, brother, and son, but had not gone to them, though imperial samurai behind him showed he had been prevented from leaving, and for the first time a personal contempt joined Kel's rage. Two who stood near him were guilty also, and she turned Arawn to face them as she stopped, nodding to Kravimal and the griffins ; Kitten lifted her paw, and Kel lowered the old woman to stand by her son and daughter-in-law. Still Fujiwara did not move, though his face worked, and she decided he warranted no more words.

"Fetch in the last of them, please, Wuodan."

Frige went with him, other couples going to lesser lords and they did it slowly, pacing forwards with dreadful and unhurried menace to cull all three from those around them as lesser dogs might a chosen deer from the herd. Fujiwara did have courage at the last, trying for dignity as fiery eyes and bared teeth forced him onwards, but by the time he had gathered himself enough to try to speak he was within the influence of the griffins, and she ignored the choked noise of his stifled lies.

"Thank you. The Hunt's tally is complete. Judgement remains."

And no god, whatever its number of legs, should be a prop for that. Arawn might not mind, but she did, and in any case had seen what Tobe was holding, as well as the hope on his face and bucket at his feet, and amusement bubbled in her heart. Leaning on the staff she dismounted, glad to find her legs would hold her, and scooped Kitten down so they could both make their bows of gratitude to the god who had borne them.

"Thank you, my lord."

I thank you also. You have been very kind, and not at all annoying. And I feel better now, though I'm not sure why.

The threat against you is ended, little one, so you no longer fear a renewed need to kill. And you both are welcome. We hunted well together.

"We did, my lord. Would you wish to drink and be rubbed down?" A deep, liquid eye regarded her with what might be surprise.

Rubbed down? I was told you were unusually polite and interesting, but that is rich grazing indeed. Why not? My children enjoy it.

She didn't have to summon Tobe, who was beaming as he trotted over to bow to Arawn, nor think about her answer to his quiet question.

"Prince Taikyuu?"

"If he wants, Tobe. Ask the Emperor's permission first."

In Yaman, as elsewhere, care of steeds was beneath no warrior's dignity, and public labour would be more than offset by the identity of the laboured over, but she wasn't going to start assuming anything now. Tobe walked ahead of Arawn as they went aside, and she took Kitten's paw to lead her back to Diamondflame ; he opened a greater paw in welcome, and this time the dragonet bounced into it, much more her usual self, to the lightening of Kel's heart. The great dragon's eyes were warm on her, but it was Rainbow who spoke.

That was very well done, Protector, and your care for all exemplary, as Moonwind and Jadewing inform us. You have even cared for yourself, which makes a change, but you should not hold that staff for very much longer.

"I know it, my lord, but justice must be done rightly. Guilt is determined, yet I would wish mortals who have no previous experience of the Hunt to be as certain as you who do. I know you can read mortal minds at will. Can you also relay what you read to the darkings, so they might display it for all to see?"

Blind eyes didn't blink, though seeing ones might have done.

Interesting. I have never done so before, but I cannot see why I should not. You mean for what all of these fools did to be shown?

"All that is relevant, my lord — the decision they made and the orders they passed." Very well. Will you join me, Diamondflame? Wingstar?

Kel didn't think spoken explanations were necessary, but did raise the staff, which brightened, as the darking huddle again flowed from Rainbow's neck into the air, this time without Ebony or Button. The magic that leapt from all three dragons to envelop the guilty was plain for all to see, and the image that formed after a long moment was of a meeting. There was no sound, but Fujiwara, with his mother, brother, and wife, were plainly listening to the bitter complaints of Lord Shoji, his face mottled with rage. At the top of the image the date of the Tortallans' arrival in Heian-Kyó appeared in kanji, with a time late in the evening, so this was Shoji's anger at her response to his rudeness, and even in silence she knew when the bitter old woman spoke her blunt words hovering between advice and command. Kill it, whatever it is, she had said. The Takuji can only be embarrassed, and we will have opportunity.

Fujiwara had taken other advice before giving the order, but give it he had, to an allied lord, who instructed another, lesser lord, who summoned Yutaka noh Kuhaku ; who spoke to the assassin and captain of ronin in his garden. And only yesterday, while she tasted pickles, Fujiwara had with his family summoned yet more allied lords, briefing them with a fierce expression and harsh words, overriding what doubts any might have had. Some had been reluctant, she realised, and believed it an ill-advised plot, but had waited silently on its success, prepared to act on it should it happen, and she closed her heart to their slim claims on mercy. With all the guilty shown, the display faded with the dragons' magic, the darkings returned to earth, and she looked at the guilty, stumbling as magic spilled them back to their right senses.

"So. The fiery eyes of the Wild Hunt, beyond all mortal capacity, have seen the guilt in your hearts and minds, and the Hunt cannot in its nature err in its prey. Dragon magic takes from your

minds your own knowledge of your plot, and the darkings display it for all to see. Yet you stand between griffins, where none may lie, and can clear yourselves of all guilt with a simple denial, spoken aloud and clearly. Can any one of you say he or she did not know before it happened that an attempt to assassinate the dragon kit would be made?"

Many tried to deny it, but none could, and the guttural croaks that were all they could manage only intensified the silence. She was going to ask them if they had anything true to say, but Fujiwara beat her to it, impotent rage turning on his mother, voice running free with truth.

"This is your doing, kendou. Your idea and your insistence. And see what comes of it and all your sour pride. Where is Fujiwara power now?"

"It is you who fail, stupid boy, weak as you are and have always been." Sick at heart and loathing both, Kel cut across their harsh voices.

"The griffins pass both your statements as true, and you will have infinite time to consider that sad fact. Neither affects your guilt, nor the thrice-proven guilt of all, nor the deaths you face in first payment for that guilt. Will any now speak a true confession, in hope of the Black God's mercy?"

"I speak to no gaijin." There was only hate in the old woman's face.

"How very stupid. Lord Fujiwara? I allow you no death poem or rites, but you may speak clearly, once, of what you did and why."

"What is the point, gaijin? The Takuji strips us of power, as his father did. We had to strike back."

Disgusted, she turned to face the Emperor on the daïs, face utterly still, and raised her voice for what she devoutly hoped was the last time.

"The chain is complete, and all have seen it, from one poisonous old woman to men devoid of honour and an assassin whose soul a royal stormwing calls empty. Because His Imperial Majesty's emblem is a dragon, the plan was to kill Lady Skysong in hope of embarrassing him." Her rage was absolute, as it had to be for this. "Think on that, Yaman, one and all. To kill — to kill a child — in hope to embarrass. Of Lady Skysong's importance none had the least idea, but of her innocence all knew, and to them in their ambitions it meant nothing. Nor have any, even now, knowing themselves condemned, sough to offer apology to Lady Skysong, or Amiir'aan, or His Imperial Majesty for their treason in seeking to murder his guest. And there are the spidrens and samurai who died defending other guests, for whom all these must also answer. The only sentence I can pass merely begins the payment for such a crime, and all these guilty must pass now to the Black God's care. And as I know his mercy infinite, I do not ask it for the least of them. Threats to myself I can forgive, but threats to a child, never." She turned one final time, facing Rainbow. "The sentence is necessarily death, my lords. Shall I act for you in this also?"

No, Protector. She knew Rainbow knew her relief, and couldn't have cared less. You deliver to us those responsible for Skysong's near death and distress, and young Amiir'aan's. The rest must fall to us, and responsibility has been apportioned. Do you stand back, now.

She did, the griffins rising and padding to flank her when she stopped, ten yards from the guilty, huddled together, the trussed assassin lying before Fujiwara's feet. The staff was radiant in her hand, and without any further signal she was aware of, stormwings sent a focused wash of fear that twisted guilty faces into horror, a containing funnel of dragon magic leaped from Rainbow, and the terrible rumbling shriek of the rock-spell burst from Haarist'aaniar'aan. Basilisks' power, some part of Kel's mind observed, must wax with age and size, for there was no progressive graying, as she had seen when Var'istaan petrified the giant ; one second the guilty were flesh,

then all were stone, so dark a grey it looked black, and she knew it would not weather. But she knew something else, that she had wondered about when she thought through this possible death. Echoes faded, and shielding magic vanished.

Thank you, Haarist'aaniar'aan, and you, Protector, on behalf of all. Justice is done. And we advise you, Daichi noh Takuji, that we chose this method of serving it that you might display the results for all to see, as years pass and personal memory fades. The dragons seek conflict with none, in this realm or any, but are no pawns for mortals to sacrifice in furtherance of their own ends. Nor will we permit any threat to our kits. That is all.

He might have risen, but she raised the staff. She knew she was very close to the limits she could endure, but a small pulse should be enough.

"One thing more, my lords. Souls yet reside within the stone, caught in Haarist'aaniar'aan's merciful speed, but I would have them face the Black God now." She hadn't known if the dragons would object, but none spoke, and she half-thought Rainbow embarrassed not to have foreseen the problem. The staff pulsed with her will. "Dabeyoun, will you take them where they must go, of your grace?"

She thought he'd be watching anyway, if only for entertainment, and silver flared at once ; but inevitably the Hag came with him, cocking her head at Kel, who sighed and bowed, eliciting a cackle. She was aware of Yamanis kneeling even as they gaped at the appearance of a hyena.

"Well, dearie, you have been a busy girl, and Da rather wants those souls, so Dabeyoun will oblige. He doesn't care for it, though. Never has. Says basilisk stone sticks in his teeth."

Kel knelt, and Dabeyoun leaned into her offered caress.

"Does it? I'm sorry. We'll do you a bone feast back at New Hope as soon as we can." She glanced up. "And one for you too, High One, if you'd like, in payment of your trouble."

"A feast? Maybe." One starry eye considered her. "We should get on with this. You're going to keel right over when you release that staff."

"I know it, High One." She didn't need to say anything more to Dabeyoun, who padded across to the statues with a resigned look, thrust his head into the assassin and started dragging out the soul

— which had a very surprised expression. Kel knew only the staff enabled her to see it, and that to draw power for others would be too much, but cocked her own head at the Hag in turn.

"Might you enable all to share your vision, High One, setting a seal to this justice, and your brother Sakuyo's jest?"

"A seal?" She cackled again. "Not yet, dearie, by a ways. He's still got his dedication to look forward to, and perfectly insufferable about it he is too. But for all that you've a point, and we might as well be thorough." Silver flared from her. "Look well, mortals, while you can."

Expressions told Kel people were doing just that, and it was a thing to see — and to hear, as Dabeyoun told the assassin there were a lot of people wanting to see him, and silenced the old woman's cry as she found herself dragged back into air with his own pealing laugh. And there was one heart-wrenching moment when Fujiwara's wife came free of her stone corpse, rose shakily, and looked straight at Kel.

"With death my vows are void." She took a clear pace away from a blank-faced Fujiwara. "And being free of them, I will apologise to the dragon, if I may."

Heart aching, Kel only gestured assent, and under Dabeyoun's ironic eye the dead woman crossed

to Kitten, still in Diamondflame's paw, and knelt, hanging her head.

"I did not desire your death, lady, and am glad you survived. Forgive my silence and the vows that held me so, I beg."

Kit's gaze found Kel for a moment, then she nodded, mindvoice clear to all.

I do. Tell the Black God that of all these who sought to kill me, I forgive you alone, and ask him to tell the man I killed that I regret my need, though he forced it on me. You should apologise to Amiir'aan too.

Kel didn't think the dead could cry, but the woman's soul looked as if she would as she rose, curtseyed, and went to Amiir'aan. He too forgave, and followed Kit in asking for those he had killed to know his regret, but more in friendship to the dragonet than his own need, Kel thought, for he already knew himself a predator, and lacked Kit's instilled inhibitions about using the fire-spell. The Hag shook her head.

"Very touching, I'm sure, but enough's enough." At her gesture a silver archway flared with nothing visible through it save a swirling greyness Kel remembered all too well, but for all her gruffness the Hag let the woman walk through it first and alone, vanishing with some semblance of dignity, before Dabeyoun's commanding snarl had the other souls stumbling forward in a panicked pack to vanish after her. He followed without pause, but the Hag gave Kel a last glance as the archway faded.

"Enjoy your nap, dearie. You've done more good than harm today. Again. It's quite impressive. Oh, and His Nibs'll be in touch soon enough. Nice one, that. Even His Spearness was amused."

Then she was gone too, and there was great and growing weariness in Kel as her gestures summoned Dom from beside the daïs and Tobe from the side of a thoroughly groomed Arawn. Leaning on the staff, she crossed to Wuodan and the Hunt.

"The Hunt is over. All have my thanks, and I ask that you convey them also to Lord Weiryn and Lord Mithros."

Couple by couple, as they had come, they leaped silver into darkness, and with only Wuodan and Frige left, her husband and son came to her.

"All over now, but I think you're going to have to catch me when I let go of the staff." Dom nodded, love and something else in his eyes. "I bet. How long?" "I've no idea, but a fair while, I expect."

She had spoken quietly, but Diamondflame's voice came from behind her and she knew Dom and Tobe could hear it also.

I can sustain you for a moment, Protector, but longer would not be wise.

She tried to think. "Can you open a way to the house we're in?"

Certainly.

"Then away we go."

That wasn't quite what she'd meant to say, but she was happy to hold out the staff, murmuring thanks as Wuodan took it in his mouth and she let go. Dragonmagic held her up, a hot trickle of

power in utterly leaden limbs, and more of it opened yet another arch through which she could see the garden before the Dower House, with a startled guard peering back at her. It was only a few steps, and with one hand in Dom's grasp and the other on Tobe's shoulder she made them, wondering what anyone would make of such an abrupt exit but quite unable to care about it. The guard bowed, dragon magic vanished, and she didn't have the energy even to cry out as the world went black.


	41. Chapter 41

Consequences

Six : Consequences

Heian-Kyó & Suzuoka, 25–30 March

The first thing Kel was aware of was that she was acutely thirsty, her whole body feeling parched. A faint redness before her eyes suggested daylight, and she cautiously opened them, feeling the grittiness of sleep in her lashes but welcoming the early morning sunlight splashing on the cheerful blanket that covered her.

"Awake at last, love? About time. Here, drink. You need it."

She smiled muzzily at Dom as he helped her sit up, muscles protesting, and held a beaker to her lips. Watered fruit juice cleared mouth and throat, and she could feel her body's relief as she swallowed. Memory seeped back as she drank.

"How long?"

"Two nights and the day between. It's the morning of the twenty-sixth." He refilled the beaker from a jug and gave it back to her. "Drink. I'll get food."

As soon as he said it she knew she was also starving hungry. "Yes, please. I missed lunch, didn't I? And dinner."

"Twice over, but it's not just that, Kel." He opened the door, leaning through to speak quietly to someone, and closed it again, returning to sit on the edge of her bed, jug ready to refill the beaker again. "You've lost a lot of weight, love — ten pounds at least. I was having kittens when I put you to bed, but Alanna said she thought it was just a side-effect, and you'd be alright with some feeding-up."

Guilt hit Kel like a brick as she realised her breasts were as parched as the rest of her. "The twins!"

"Sh, it's alright. The wetnurse is coping well enough, and if your milk doesn't come back with food and drink, you can ask the Green Lady."

That was an unusually practical note for him when it came to the divine, and though he smiled at her look she could see strain in his face.

"Even old sergeants learn, love, when they get hit hard enough. And Alanna's been generally bracing, and in high good humour watching everyone running about like chickens."

"Oh?"

"Oh. What did you expect?"

"I didn't get that far." She frowned, drinking deeply again. "Except that the Emperor's hands would be clean, and everyone ought to be feeling more cautious about irritating immortals or the gods, so I hoped politics would look after themselves for once."

His laugh was welcome, but laced with more than humour.

"Only you, love. Though they are, I suppose, more or less." "What's the more? Or the less?"

"Well, Diamondflame's still here — napping in the garden, actually, with Kit. He says he wants a word with Lord Sakuyo, and it's easiest to do that at the dedication, apparently. For which we have to leave tomorrow. Haarist'aaniar'aan is still here as well, wandering the city with Amiir'aan and others amid much astonishment. So are the stormwings, also in high fettle, having stuffed themselves and then some. But the other dragons left immediately, and Arawn, to Tobe's disappointment."

"I bet. Mmm. I think he said he'd be visiting Peachblossom sometime, though. And bother. I meant to ask him about mule gods, but I forgot."

This laugh was more genuine. "Good to know you forgot something, love. It's not as if you missed much else. And Diamondflame or Haarist'aaniar'aan will know, surely?"

"That's a thought. I half-expected Junior to nip through with the stormwings, actually. His Nibs did put him in all the paintings."

Dom stared and shook his head to clear it. "Thanks the gods for small mercies, eh? And more for larger ones. Though preferably somewhere else." He swept her into a tight hug. "I know you were being careful, for you, but all the same, love. You outdid yourself this time."

"Did I? It was just — "

"I'm sure it was. And yes, you did. So you're going to have a problem with Yamanis being quite impossibly respectful, for which you can't honestly blame them."

That was unhappily true, she supposed, and Dom let her go as a knock heralded Tobe with of all things an oversize bowl of porridge, liberally topped with honey. Her mouth watered, but she gave him a hug before beginning to eat with a sigh of relief.

"There's more if you want, Ma. Hot rolls and bacon will be along soon."

"Marvellous. Thank you. Are you all right?"

"Why shouldn't I be? You took all the costs, again, didn't you?"

"Only what I had to, Tobe."

She remembered how the staff's power had felt, a river eroding as it flowed, and between mouthfuls tried to explain what she'd done, husbanding resources and using the innate power of hounds and horse god, stormwings and dragons, to spare herself.

"I asked Wuodan, too, before I took the staff, and he said a mortal had led the Hunt before, more than once, and it was perfectly survivable unless I did something very stupid."

"Interesting. You make it all sound quite sensible, somehow." Alanna had been leaning in the doorway, listening, and came forward. "I smelt bacon frying, so I thought you might be awake. How are you, Kel, other than way too skinny?"

"Hungry. Thirsty. Relieved." She swallowed the last of the porridge, reflecting, as Tobe took the empty bowl and promised to return with bacon rolls. "Baffled by Fujiwara's stupidity. Horrified by his mother. Appalled by the implications of what his wife thought she could say only after she was dead."

"Stupidity?"

"Gods, yes. He'd read the 'Note' so he must have read Diamondflame's warning. And he still didn't quite believe in dragons, because it was too convenient for the Emperor."

"Point. But was Runnerspring any blinder? Or Stone Mountain? I agree with you about his mother, though — she was a piece of work. So does Eitaro, who was insistent we call him as soon as you were awake. Feeling up to it?"

"If I have to be. What's so important?"

"You did rearrange the realm, Kel, and there are consequences. The brother was childless, legitimately at any rate, so any Fujiwara heirs left alive are distant cousins and the Emperor's got the same problem you handed Jon last year with vacant fiefs. And the priests are running in circles, of course, wild with shocked curiosity. But the major thing is just showing you alive and well, I think. For all Diamondflame explained you only needed a long nap, there was considerable confusion after your spectacular exit. And a certain amount of trouble."

Tobe had arrived with a tray, and Kel was piling into an unutterably delicious bacon roll, but that stopped her mid-chew and Alanna waved a hand.

"Eat. It wasn't bad, but as you made very clear just what Fujiwara had risked, and whose rage he incurred, a lot of people weren't best pleased with him or the other lords and the go-between fellow. Kravimal and the Imperial Guard put a stop to it — with some help — but not before Fujiwara's compound and some others were burned out."

Kel closed her eyes, swallowing guilt and seeking balance. "Deaths?"

"Remarkably, no. The servants all seem to have fled after you had Jadewing knock the gates down. Nice one. And the help was a very localised thunderstorm that doused flames and ardour alike." Alanna's face cracked in a wide grin. "The angry people took themselves off in a hurry to His Nibs's temple to be apologetic and thankful, and yesterday was very quiet, even at the samurai funerals and spidren cremations, which the imperials all attended. And the stormwings. The trees have abruptly started blossoming in earnest, too, which seems to have cheered everyone up. But the guards say there have been regular delegations of all sorts making respectful enquiries, so you need to show yourself up and about."

"Haven't I done that quite enough already?" Kel was relieved to have missed the funerals, but felt she shouldn't be.

"Not a chance, Kel." Face more serious, Alanna sat on the other side of the bed, taking her hand. "More than anyone could ever ask, but that won't stop them, as you know perfectly well. And for my money a bigger balance is tipping. Piers is humming and hawing, but Ilane agrees, and Eitaro's inclined to. News of that pickle-tithe of yours seems to have gone round the … whatever you'd call the Lower City here, like wildfire. And some incident with a priest you didn't tell me about, as well as the way you and the immortals thank servants. I don't know much about Yamani history, but it's plainly been emperor and nobles over commoners, all the way. And one reason Fujiwara was protected was that if the Emperor had moved openly against him, as he half-wanted to, he'd have faced revolt from other magnates, not because they supported Fujiwara especially but in defence of their own prerogatives. Same reason Jon couldn't send troops into Stone Mountain for Joren, or Runnerspring for Garvey, really. But things have changed, and not only because the Fujiwara clan's one big statue and noble privilege in tatters, but because you've lined up emperor and people against a wrong that rests squarely with nobles. Right now it's only here in the city, but word is spreading fast and almost everyone's becoming quite thoughtful."

Kel was having difficulty thinking this one through, but some of it made sense, of a sort. She'd known she was cutting across the usual lines of Yamani society, impatient with its often stifling protocols, and she remembered the impulse that had made her thank that first Daidairi servant, kneeling by the carriage, and the perch-carriers. But the notion of engineering a new political balance of powers and classes had never crossed her mind. And for all her fairness she was no revolutionary, but herself an ennobled landowner, happy with military discipline as well as noble hierarchy. But then again, much as she loved Yaman there were plenty of customs she'd cheerfully abandon, from face paint to seppuku, and perhaps — just maybe, but she thought things pointed that way — Lord Sakuyo would too. But he still remained the great unknown.

"Um. What makes you think it's a tipping-point, not just some temporary thing?"

"It could be either, Kel, for all I know. But underneath his genuine concern for you, I think that's why Eitaro wants to see you as soon as he can. He knows there's a moment to seize, and he wants to seize it."

"And the Emperor?"

"Who knows? I surely don't. Jon and Thayet have spoken to him, but if they have any clue they haven't said, only that he's been busy making sure true word is spread far and wide, especially to Fujiwara and allied lands that are, if only temporarily, in imperial administration. Oh, and Jon told him to have his messengers use gods' oaths, which they are, amid much extra-loud chiming." Alanna's grin returned. "Cloestra and some of the others have been helping out with mountain villages round and about, when they aren't making lewd jokes about how many more playfellows for Amourta all this will have produced, and every last one thinks it's hysterical for stormwings to be acknowledged by gods."

A third bacon roll was much nicer to think about, and three females of the Stone Tree Nation were already incubating eggs at New Hope, from the energy Maggur's death had given them. Almost Kel's only regret about coming to Yaman had been that she'd miss their hatchings, and probably already had — when she thought about it, she couldn't remember the dams' faces among those who'd come. But amid all the nonsense, she felt a decision crystallise.

"None of that is my problem, Alanna, whatever anyone thinks. But yes, of course I'll see Prince Eitaro, though not before I've had a wash and a lot more bacon rolls, and seen the twins. And talked to Diamondflame. But the thing is, the Emperor should be there, too. It's his decision, in the end. And Jonathan and Thayet, as peers who've faced something similar. So let's invite them all to mid-morning tea."

Her continuing hunger, fed by relays from an increasingly surprised kitchen, made for slow progress, and there were a lot of people wanting reassurance of her well-being — her parents, Patricine and Toshuro with her nephew and nieces, Neal and Yuki, Roald and Shinko, Jonathan and Thayet, and the guard who had seen her collapse into Dom's arms like an empty sack, and helped carry her inside. Cricket had a wariness in her eyes, as if Kel might summon some other divine being at any moment, but Neal was blessedly unsubdued, saying in his blandest voice that he was greatly looking forward to telling the Stump about her most recent mount ; the twins were a balm also, and though she couldn't feed them as she desperately wanted to do, she could hold them, and feel their satisfaction at the return of a familiar scent and voice.

She also made it out to see Diamondflame, snoozing in — or on — the front gardens of the Dower House, Kitten curled within one great paw. The blossom had started, too, and though the full glory would be a while yet the gardens looked and smelt wonderful, and she breathed satisfaction. The guards were at a respectful distance, and servants taking a wide detour with wider eyes, but as soon as Kel, on Dom's arm, was close enough, one huge eye opened, then the

other, and the great head lifted.

Protector. How are you feeling?

"Well enough, thank you, my lord, though I seem to have lost some weight."

I imagine you have. You pushed it, a little, in summoning Dabeyoun. And I am sorry we did not consider that petrification would trap souls. He sounded quite apologetic. It is long and long since we last had to consider such a thing.

Kel waved a hand. "No, please. It is I who owe thanks. The one thing I was truly dreading was having to execute them myself and grant them the Black God's grace. And I'd thought about the possibility of petrification, and decided Dabeyoun would probably be watching."

So I realised. I have said it before, Keladry, but you are a most clear-sighted mortal. Admirably so.

Their voices woke Kitten, and as protective claws uncurled she squealed welcome and bounced into Kel's hastily curved arms.

"Ooof!"

Kel! How are you? I thought you would never wake up. You have lost a lot of weight.

"I'm fine, Kit, but yes, I have. Divine power isn't very good for mortal flesh. More importantly, how are you?"

I am still a little sad, but otherwise much better. Kit's mindvoice slowed, for once. I knew I had the right to defend myself, but it made me feel as if I had eaten something rotten. I told Grandsire I had talked to the basilisks, as you recommended, and he said that was very sensible, but I should also talk to you because you too had used dragonfire to kill. I knew that but I hadn't thought about it properly. You also felt very bad about having to do it, didn't you?

"Yes I did, Kit. I was sick to my stomach for days after. But your grandsire didn't gift me dragonfire without good reason, and I didn't use it without good reason. Sometimes we have to do bad things in a good cause, and then pick ourselves up and go on. There's no point repining."

True. But …

The hesitation was uncharacteristic, and Kel raised an eyebrow. "What?"

I was just thinking that the Fujiwara man said he had to do what he did, too.

Kel blew out a breath. "So he did, Kit, but there's two things. One is that he was just wrong. He didn't have to — it wasn't life and death, just hope of advantage. And the other is that if he'd succeeded, he wouldn't have felt sorry or sick at all, just pleased with himself. I know this seems odd, but when it comes to doing bad things, why you do them and how you regret them matters as much as doing them at all."

I will think about that.

"You do, Kit, and get back to me."

I will. Oh, and the Emperor asked me if they might call that ryujin dragon Skysong after me. Grandsire says there are advantages but it is up to me. What do you think?

Kel blinked and thought hard. "Mmm. Your grandsire is very right about the advantages, Kit — it will make them remember what happened, as much as the statues. And while he can't undo what's done, His Imperial Majesty is trying very hard to make amends. He wouldn't make that offer lightly. So unless you have a strong reason to think the ryujin should have a different name, I think you should accept graciously and be very pleased with the honour."

I will think about that too.

"Good. And meanwhile" — her eyes went to Diamondflame's, aware of his ironic approval — "I really don't mean to pry, my lord, and I see why you want to speak to Lord Sakuyo, but may I ask if you have any other concern here? I'm about to speak to His Imperial Majesty and he's bound to ask. I have my own concerns, for the Guild, but wouldn't for the world cause you any difficulty if I can help it."

Great eyes regarded her thoughtfully. I have two tasks, to convey our thanks to a god, which is a sensitive matter ; and to hear what he says when Skysong conveys the thanks she owes him for her life. Beyond that, I have no objection to reminding mortals why dragons are to be respected. Torpid in our own lands, we forget how swiftly mortal lives pass and memories fade. Some lessons for the living are not amiss. And I confess myself curious about this temple. Basilisk and ogre involvement in mortal worship, however indirectly, is a new thing it behoves us to understand.

That was a long speech for Diamondflame, not given to loquacity, and Kel took a moment to ponder it.

"Thank you, my lord, that is clear. One other question, if you will? Moonwind said even a rock could see the Timeway still about me, but this rock cannot. I had thought that all done. Might you instruct me better?"

Moonwind is given to exaggeration, even in thought. But she was not altogether wrong. The Timeway has so many echoes partly because it is not only where what will be becomes what is, but also because it is where what has been makes what will be — in continuance or in reversal. In you the future rejects the near past, cleaving to older truths, and chance placed you at the heart of the Timeway's greatest roil in many centuries, where much was consummated and much reversed. Such a roil has many eddies persisting long after its crisis has passed, and this is one, extending the decisions made last year.

That was another long speech, and uncommonly helpful. Kel was wondering why, without much success, when Dom gently prodded her.

"Try gratitude and respect, love."

Her startled indignation was swept aside by Diamondflame's rich laugh, like fire in the wind.

Ah, Domitan, you grow most perceptive. Yet it is one of your delights, Keladry, that you achieve wonders yet ever wonder why any might be grateful. Consider all that you alone among living mortals understand from experience, and that I adore my granddaughter, not least for what you have helped make her. And there is this — that while Sakuyo doubtless had many reasons for acting as he did, one among them is that he would not have enjoyed facing you after her death, knowing full well that you would never forgive him any more than yourself.

That was three long speeches, and Kel retired in some confusion, giving an inexplicably amused Dom sidelong glances that bothered him not at all. The idea of the Timeway having eddies made sense, though why it had ever rested on her at all remained a sore puzzle, but the notion that Lord Sakuyo feared her unforgiveness was — honesty prodded — gratifying, if deeply absurd.

Rumination was interrupted by her Mama.

"There you are, sweeting. I've recruited Akemi, Katsumi, and Akiko to help Tobeis serve, and the housekeeper's hauled out a stunning tea-set of the Emperor's late mother's." Ilane seamlessly detached Kel from Dom's arm, substituting her own and surveying her daughter with an entirely maternal look. "You look cross. Was Diamondflame giving you a hard time about something? I can't see why he should."

"Not at all, Mama. He was extremely helpful."

"Ah. So you're puzzling about why, I suppose."

Dom grinned. "I did tell her, Ilane, but to be fair it was heady stuff. And his laugh is … disconcerting."

"He laughed? Oh, my. Because Kel was puzzled by his gratitude?" "In one."

"But of course he's grateful, sweeting. So is everyone, beneath their shock. You were wonderful, and terrifying, and splendid, all at once, and you didn't leave anyone a single inch of wiggle-room. Diplomatic justice with more teeth than he cared to count, your papa says, and I agree entirely. And with divine power heaped all over you, not one thought of yourself. I didn't think I could be prouder than I was watching you being created as a countess, but you proved me wrong." Ilane gurgled a laugh. "And Jonathan's rising to the occasion, despite mixed feelings. Prodded by Thayet, I fancy, but even so. He told the Emperor flat out, in modeless Yamani, to stop being so respectful and start thinking practically, so you owe him some thanks."

"Mmmph."

Ilane laughed again. "Then again, he'll be cheered to see you so discombobulated, so it all works out marvellously well. Though if you're really baffled, you're not thinking clearly. What did you expect, sweeting?"

Kel had no better answer than for Dom, but her grumpiness dissolved when she saw the tea-set, which was stunning. The cups were marvels of simplicity, in pure shape and subtle, monochrome glaze, and there were no less than four matching, side-handled pots as well as a caddy and scoop, and a kettle, big enough to fill all the pots, that had a built-in heating spell. She made a mental note to investigate how that was done, but had her hands full reassuring the children, pleasingly more nervous about serving the Emperor than about the strange capacities of their aunt.

She had been saving her glorious green kimonos for the dedication, but this tea ceremony demanded them, and with her Mama's help, clucking at her gauntness, she had a proper Yamani appearance (saving only face paint) to greet her guests. The Emperor had brought the Empress and Taikyuu, as well as Eitaro, and with the royals, Alanna, and her parents, as well as Dom, it was a wide circle that sat on the cushions in the Dower House's beautifully proportioned tea-room. As was proper in an assisted service, she scooped tea into pots and filled and whisked them herself, drawing in and projecting calm, but was seated for Tobe to fill her own cup last. She gestured to the hanging scrolls in their niches with single flowers beneath, and took the first, ritual sip.

"Peace be with you all."

As first guest, the Emperor properly responded. "And with you."

This was only chakai, not chaji with its obligatory meal, but some of Yuki's pickles were on offer

in basilisk bowls, and she offered an apology for her own larger bowl of umeboshi. "I have been left with a hunger that is not easily sated."

"So we hear." The Empress sipped, praising the tea. "I hope you suffer no other ill-effects from your astonishing labours?"

"None, my Empress, as Wuodan assured me I would not." There was no help for it, and no point delaying. "I hope the realm has not suffered."

"On the contrary, Keladry-chan." She heard the Emperor's choice of the simplest address with relief. "We are much in your debt."

"Forgive contradiction, but that is not so, my Emperor. I acted in the Guild's interests, and while I rejoice if Yaman benefits also, I can claim no credit for that happy chance."

"Yet you took much care Yaman should understand and accept what passed, even to asking a god to grant us her vision."

"And such a vision. I would thank you for Lady Noriko's grace also." The Empress sighed. "I did not know her well, for she was older than I and circumstances kept us apart, but I knew that with such a mother-in-law her marriage must be ever hard duty and never joy."

"So I imagine, my Empress. I am sorry it was not possible to frame the Hunt's charge to exclude her, but she was more willing to hold to her vows in wrong than cleave to honour. Even so, the Black God will not regret a reason to be merciful among so many reasons to judge harshly." She remembered feeling it in his temple, and Dabeyoun's words to the assassin. "Would I be right to think the kamunushi Hotaka was the one who challenged Lord Fujiwara's piety?"

"Indeed so."

"And Goro noh Toshiaki?"

The Emperor's face darkened. "One I would have appointed to the ministry Lord Shoji controlled, though ever leaving the work to others. A man of great energy, honour, and promise, sorely missed. And the assassin's fuller confession answered many bitter questions, so that is also among our debts to you." He took a breath. "Jonathan advises plain speaking, so I will say that how the least is to be paid baffles me."

"But I claim no payment, my Emperor, nor acknowledge any debt."

"Why not, Keladry-chan? You have almost certainly saved Us a civil war, ridding us of a blight and avenging Our honour far more swiftly and terribly than We could ever have done. And I would fear the gods' accounting if I did not insist on what I owe."

"Mmm." That was tricky. Kel ate a plum, pondering the pronouns, and noticed the ironic amusement on Jonathan's face as Shinko translated for him. "Can you now tell me of your dream, my Emperor?"

"Yes. And dreams, for many came. One recurred, showing me with you and all my guests on the road to Edo, with a great sense of tranquility. The others varied, but all showed me speaking to you here in the palace, explaining the politics that have beset you, and all were accompanied with a profound foreboding of ill. So it seemed you must come, and I must be silent. I believed it meant you must be given a free hand, not recruited to my aid, however tempting, and I am now sure of it." He frowned. "It is not easy to explain, but say perhaps that whatever I told you would have constrained you, and your actions that proved needful and correct were beyond anything I could

have imagined."

Kel was frowning herself. "Needful, yes, but correct? Lord Sakuyo accepted that the harm intended Lady Skysong could not go unpunished, but I cannot suppose my actions what he wanted. I was expedient, guided only by the Guild's needs and what I thought could answer them."

Eitaro inclined his head. "Even so, Keladry-chan, my brother did not speak amiss. Lord Sakuyo having accepted your actions and aided your ends, how can they be anything but correct? And I would ask if you might tell us of his aid to the dragons — it was when Lord Rainbow acknowledged it that his thunder first sounded."

Kel shook her head gently. "That is no mortal business, my Prince, nor within my knowledge. As our presence affirms the treaty embodied in Roald and Shinkokami, so perhaps Lord Sakuyo's aid to a dragon kit affirms whatever understanding between gods and dragons came of building Drachifethe. I doubt any will discuss it, and asking would not be wise, but Diamondflame told me we are in an eddy of the Timeway, extending what he called last year's decisions, and it likes its echoes."

"He did?" The Emperor waited while Akiko refilled his cup. "That is new. I know of the Timeway only what Jonathan has told me."

"Only gods and oldest immortals know more, my Emperor, and what I was told came as news to me also."

"Yet you know enough to speak of it liking echoes. Keladry-chan, I ask openly for advice, though Jonathan warns me it is likely to be simple, direct, and terrifying."

"Advice about what, my Emperor? It is a dangerous commodity. And as I have told His Majesty, he only finds my ideas as he describes them because he prefers complex inaction to simple action."

A Takuji gave a Conté a look when that was translated, and they exchanged smiles Kel couldn't begin to interpret.

"He has my sympathies. And your actions are anything but simple, Keladry-chan."

"Once again, forgive contradiction, but not so, my Emperor. I had to deal with lies, silence, and hidden guilt. Griffins ensured truth, stormwings speech, and the Hunt discovery. The situation was complex. My actions brought simplicity."

The Emperor was not alone in blinking surprise, but Shinko gave Kel a small smile oddly full of pain.

"As I told you, Uncle, and my esteemed father-in-law knows, Keladry-chan truly believes what she does straightforward. Sir Nealan says it has always been so, and calls it 'see bully, smite bully, no excuses'."

Prince Taikyuu spoke for the first time, shrewdness blending with curiosity. "I can see you did bring simplicity, Blessed Keladry-sensei, though most strangely, but there was more. To have Blessed Tobeis invite me to aid him with Lord Arawn answered no need of yours."

"Tobe's idea, not mine, my Prince. You share a love of horses. And to offer Lord Arawn proper treatment seemed simple courtesy, which I find all gods to appreciate. I asked Tobe to check with your Imperial father because I could not deal with any political complexity arising."

"But it was politically superb, Keladry-chan." Eitaro stared bafflement. "Taikyuu could re-establish our respect for all gods, that Michizane smirched."

"Could he, my Prince? Well and good, but I thought of a sweating horse's need, after he had in kindness borne me and Kit, of a child's pleasure in a most magnificent animal, and for me those were more than enough. Any greater rightness only magnifies their truth."

Translation bought a laugh from Jonathan. "You see, Daichi?"

"I begin to, Jonathan. But I would still have advice, Keladry-chan."

"And have not yet said about what, my Emperor."

"What I should best do now."

"Go to Edo and see what happens." Kel had her own bafflement at such vagueness, but relented at Shinko's hurt look. "My Emperor, I cannot advise you in any detail unless you set out the problem, and even then I would remain ignorant of much that might matter greatly. But if you want philosophy, be bold and honest, thinking of Yaman beyond the security of your own house. An eddy of the Timeway has brought a degree of change. Help it mature into a new stability."

"Yes. But how?" The Emperor waved a hand. "Blessed Piers-sama, you can explain better than me."

Kel looked at her Papa, sensing his doubts.

"I can try, my Emperor. I believe Alanna has told you of her thoughts, my dear? I am still uncertain, but she is right you have begun to have the same effect on commoners here as on the Lower City in Corus. And as that did much to, ah … the Tortallan would be stymie, any objections nobles had to your, um, various elevations, so the popular rage with the late Lord Fujiwara and his allies, revealed and unleashed by your judgement on him, has, well, played its own part in concentrating minds, one might say."

Her Mama sensibly took over, more straightforwardly. "Forgive bluntness, my Emperor, and my language." She dropped into Tortallan. "He's not unwilling, sweeting, but he has amazingly little experience of his own commoners. What he wants is your touch in winning hearts as well as minds."

Kel saw Eitaro murmur translation or commentary, and the Emperor's and Empress's rueful agreement. This at least was a clear problem, and she bent her mind to it, reaching for a plum only to discover she'd eaten them all. Hunger gnawed, and several thoughts coalesced.

"Alright, Mama." She switched back to Yamani. "Akemi-chan, more umeboshi, please, ridiculous as my need is." Her niece cursteyed, with an admiring glint in her eyes, and trotted out with the empty bowl. "Tell me, my Emperor, if you will, do you like karaage?"

The dish of cubed meats and seafood, battered and deep fried, was a workingman's and soldier's staple, despised at noble tables for its meat and cheap popularity. She saw his eyes widen in surprise and narrow in memory.

"I haven't had it in years, Keladry-chan, but do you know, I used to? The guards on winter duty always ate it, and the smell was most appetising. I asked one of my personal bodyguards — I was five or six, I think — and he brought me some. It was delicious, but I was made to understand by the tutor who found me eating it that such tastes were most unbecoming."

"Is that tutor still alive, my Emperor?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, if he is, you should summon him and tell him he's an idiot. I wonder …. mmm. Tobe,

could you please ask one of the guards if Mama Moriko still has a stall on Rokujo-oji that serves the best karaage in the province? If she does, ask Diamondflame if he's hungry at all, then if Kit's told him about those hot peppers she liked so much. And explain we'll all be going to Mama Moriko's, including the Emperor, so would he care to come with us?" Tobe nodded, and went. "And though it may come to naught, my Emperor, might you summon a scribe?"

Eitaro was already seeing to it, and Kel's attention was distracted by her Mama's laugh.

"Was that what you were always sneaking out for, sweeting? I knew you were up to something but I didn't think of karaage."

"Usually. There was suzukema-ichi too." Kel's gaze found Cricket's, pleased to see her stifling a laugh ; she too had loved Mama Moriko's karaage, unable to sneak out herself but supplied by Kel and Yuki when they could manage it. "But it was also just getting away for a while, to be normal. Life in the Daidairi was wonderful, but stifling. Training with Naruko-sensei was an outlet for energy, but not heart or stomach. And all of Rokujo-oji was a joy."

Dividing the bureaucratic, religious, and imperial northern city from middle-class merchant areas, the wide cross-street hosted hundreds of food-stalls where labourers and thousands of minor bureaucrats and kamunushi, as well as imperial guardsmen, sought food they didn't have to go home to eat, nor cook themselves.

"I suppose it must have been, my dear." Her father looked reminiscent. "I confess to sending embassy servants for karaage every now and then. I did miss meat dishes. But I never dared go myself — being discovered would have been too great a liability as a diplomat."

"But not, in this moment, as a politician, Papa."

"Mmm. No, indeed. What an interesting thought." He switched to Tortallan. "Somewhat as if His Majesty had lunch in the Daymarket."

Kel followed suit. "Which you ought to, sire. If you and Thayet ate in the Daymarket once a month, or even once a week, using an honour guard but accepting the Rogue's protection, you'd find it generated a surprising personal affection, and loyalty. And you'd get the best bubbly pies in Tortall, bar none. Ask Roald."

"No fair, Kel." But Roald was grinning. "You're right about those pies, though. Fancy's all very well for feasts, but you can't beat a good bubbly pie."

Jonathan had a remniscent look of his own. "Actually, I remember them well. And Gary insisting on a fresh one and burning his tongue."

Alanna laughed. "So did you, Jon, at least once. And Raoul often, though he could eat them hotter than I ever managed." She sobered. "But Kel's superbly right, yet again. You've done formal stuff in the Lower City, with grants for improvements in the Protector's name, and that's good, but you haven't yet done informal."

"Kings can't, Alanna."

"Pfui." Kel sat up. "That's … nonsense, sire. You vary formality all the time, as you see need." Mischief tugged. "You merely haven't seen fit to extend it to the Lower City, but if you imagine you're speaking to me when I've said something that shocks you but you have to admit makes

sense, you'll do fine."

"Ouch. Piers, can you translate that as exactly possible, please, and add that that's what I meant about your daughter's advice being weighted with chagrin?"

Thayet elbowed her husband, "And what about my advice?"

More general dispute was foiled by the return of Akemi with another large bowl of umeboshi, on which Kel gratefully seized, and of Tobe with an imperial scribe just behind.

"The guards say Mama Moriko is going strong, Ma, and makes wonderful karaage. Diamondflame says he doesn't need to eat, but on reflection believes he does find himself a bit peckish and thanks you for your clever thinking. And Kit had told him all about the peppers, which he agrees sound interesting."

"Thank you, Tobe. Three welcome answers." She looked at the scribe. "Daishoya-san, take a message, please. If His Imperial Majesty objects, he will let us know. Otherwise, exactly as I say. His Imperial Majesty informs esteemed Mama Moriko that His honoured guests, having heard of her most excellent karaage, wish to sample it this lunchtime, and that He will accompany them. Apologising for short notice but with full confidence in her abilities, He adds that as the dragons Lord Diamondflame and Lady Skysong will be among them, she should prepare her largest vessel and a smaller one with karaage using wanizame chilli batter, hotter than any mortal could bear. And the usual courtesies."

Both Kel and the scribe looked at the Emperor, who waved a hand with a slightly bemused look.

"I don't believe I have any objections, Keladry-chan , peculiar as all this is, but why should Lord Diamondflame thank you for this clever thinking, or find it so?"

"Because, my Emperor, we are using him in a way I wouldn't dream of were it not for the fact that favouring you in this might offset the favour Lord Sakuyo did the dragons in helping to protect Lady Skysong."

It took him a moment, but then he got it all. "You think I am as the High One's kit? And being … blessed to make this new appearance in the greatest company repays him? No … you and I both are both as his kits, and you spend a favour of your own, do you not?"

"If so, only a small one. And if Diamondflame likes the wanizame as much as Kit did, even smaller. He's also acknowledging that he remains as your guest, my Emperor, though he did not come as such."

"And that is no small thing, however usual protocols of hosting cannot apply." His eyes glinted. "Yet another debt is owed, Keladry-chan."

Kel sighed. "Most respectfully, pfui. I am still absurdly hungry, and karaage will hit the spot nicely. And I remember Mama Moriko with great fondness, for she had a generous hand with children's portions and a sharp eye for customers who might seek to push ahead of the small, so giving her a boost to her pride sits well with me."

"And to her custom, I imagine, Keladry-chan." The Empress laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Send it, Daichi. This woman will need time to prepare, and persuading Keladry she is owed will be work for a lifetime."

"Right as usual, Reiko. At the run." The scribe went. "Should I announce the appearance, Keladry-chan?"

"There's no need, my Emperor, and the idea is unbending a bit, not more protocol. Some guards to keep us enough space might be an idea, though. Tell me, my Empress, is reclusiveness to your taste?"

"Policy grown into habit. You think I too should come? And Taikyuu?"

"Your son, certainly. A ruler can always command one to bring food. But not all rulers can go for it themselves, if they so choose. For yourself I thought only that there is an opportunity to change policy, should you wish it."

The Empress looked very thoughtful, and Prince Taikyuu was clearly struck by the idea of using power to do something for oneself. So was the Emperor, but when Jonathan heard the translation he laughed.

"Now that's a saying to remember. Gods, Keladry, does New Hope have no protocol at all?" "Very little that doesn't suit me, sire, and none that stops me doing ordinary things for myself." "Lucky you. And I had a question, Daichi — what are you going to do with those statues?"

The Emperor scowled. "I have no idea. I quite see why Lord Rainbow said they should be displayed, but their present location is … mezawari."

"An eyesore, sire. Or something obstructing a view." Kel gave the Emperor a glance. "They're rather meant to be that, though."

"Yes, but in Sorei … The geomancers are in tears. And they can't stay on the grass, but putting them on pedestals does not seem acceptable."

Kel's eyes met Dom's in sudden memory, and they both suppressed grins as he spoke.

"Tobe, you were the one who wanted Rogal petrified and stuck on the roadway next to the skulls." Several Tortallans made strangled noises. "Any ideas?"

Tobe frowned. "They're a lot uglier than even he would have been, Da. If they shouldn't be moved or put up on pedestals, put them down. Dig a pit, with a simple path for access, and drop them out of view. Schools could take children down to see when they're old enough to understand the lesson and not get nightmares."

The Emperor clapped his hands softly. "Now that is a fine idea, Blessed Tobeis-chan. Should it have a name?"

"I don't know, my Emperor. I've been thinking of them as … there is a Tortallan expression I can't translate. 'Stone fools'." Tortallans barked laughter. "Sekkinukesaku, maybe, if that word exists."

Yamanis laughed too and the Emperor gave Tobe a true smile. "It does now. Perfect."

It was a very peculiar procession, but Kel thought everyone was rather enjoying themselves, as she was herself. The giddy blend of Immortals' Intoxication, political shock, and simple piety that possessed the crowds who filled streets and made way, staring in all directions and bowing or curtseying as bouncily as Kitten, might have set her teeth on edge — but Sakuyan worship meant Yamanis added a rueful laughter at their own reeling sensibilities that somehow resulted in high good humour. Everything was most irregular but the trees were blossoming, one had to laugh, and

there was much to laugh at, and learn from. It was, after all, nearly the High One's feastday, and he had already outdone himself. The imperials, moreover, recognised the Sakuyan mood at once, and for all her Mama was right about the Emperor's limited experience of commoners, he was more at ease than Kel had thought he would be. He and the Princes were talking earnestly to Diamondflame, a conversation best ignored.

There was also the other effect of walking with Diamondflame, whose pace kept him exactly with them, and watching his paws land understanding gleamed. Spatial magic stretched his route, so he walked ten times as far at his own speed, a silent use of power at once practical, kind, and convenient for all, that revealed character. Akemi, Katsumi, and Akiko had been staring in facination too, as had the Empress, and Kel offered her explanation, fitting it to the Yamani tradition of a guest's care for a host and receiving sharp glances.

"How do you know, Keladry-oba?"

"There's a sort of stretchy shimmer where his paws land, Akiko -chan, that suggests spatial magic. It's logical. And as I told His Imperial Majesty, by coming with us today Lord Diamondflame acknowledges himself a guest, though he came to Yaman in justice. He would not do so and fail to observe a guest's duties. Dragons are most exact in such matters, and you should always be so to them."

"Ye-es. But you speak to him so easily, oba."

"Why should I not, Katsumi? I would not presume on his goodwill, but I count him a friend, and though I and all of New Hope are in his debt beyond repayment, we have done what we can, as he knows."

She received a frown. "In your book, oba, he speaks of a debt all dragons owe you."

"We've agreed to disagree about that, Katsumi."

"But do you not call on it, oba? You seem to."

Kel winced. "It's complicated. We have a sort of standoff about it."

The Empress laughed. "Daichi should hear this. Maybe that is what he and Lord Diamondflame speak of."

Kel winced again, then remembered the atmosphere and made herself relax, brightening. "Well, dragons helped when gods ganged up on me, so maybe that'll work the other way round too."

In the silence she felt Sakuyo's amusement, and found Patricine taking her arm, and drawing her a step away.

"You're a wonder, Kel. The children will remember this all their lives, and be remembered for it. And my mother-in-law will gobble pleasure at their eating karaage in the street, an idea that would usually make her faint in pure shock. She also received a lecture from Chiyoko-sensei about your revelations to the Temple of Weapons that I did enjoy."

"Did you? Good. But it's just being a bit hidebound, Patricine, as Tortall was until the Scanran War forced us to some new thinking."

"Code and protocol, you mean?"

"If you like. They're supposed to make things easier and more efficient, but grow on their own and need pruning sometimes. Honour, too, though half the time what people claim as honour is no

such thing."

"No." Patricine gave her an odd look. "I don't think I shall ever get over my surprise at how my little sister's grown up, and I'm not sure I should. To see you lead the Wild Hunt … well, there aren't words. Mama says you find people's amazement baffling and irritating, so I won't go on, but thank you for it all, and especially the children."

Moved, Kel tightened her grip on Patricine's arm for a moment. "What are aunts for? But yes, I do. Painful, too, when it's worshipful distance in the eyes of a friend." She paused, honesty twisting. "War pushed me into command very young, Patricine, and being sent back by the Black God is not so easy to live with, irony intended. And since then it's been one thing after another. I'd hoped peace and motherhood meant an end to the worst of it, but here I am again."

"Mmm. Akemi was telling me you wouldn't admit the Emperor owed you anything." "Not if I can help it. Royal gifts are bad enough." Patricine laughed. "You mean it, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I'm very grateful. Here, have an absurd title and lifelong responsibility for a chunk of two countries and gods know how many people. And the gods are the same — grace and ever so many hot needles, if you heard that one."

"Your haiku? Of course I did. But you're not a Yamani subject, so the Emperor can't do anything like that."

"No, but he'll think of something."

"You were grateful for the naginata."

"True. But that was wartime. I was less grateful for the wedding swords, as it meant I had to learn them — though that's come in handy, so I suppose I shouldn't grumble."

"Handy." Patricine laughed again. "I do begin to understand what Dom means when he says 'only Kel' in that tone. But thanks are owed, whatever you say, and more people than the Emperor will be troubled if you refuse them all."

Kel gave her sister a suspicious look. "Has Papa been bending your ear? Or Toshuro?"

"No." Patricine grinned. "But Papa was bending Mama's ear, concerned at your denial of debt. I think I understand what you've been saying, though, a bit anyway. It's your other haiku, to Prince Eitaro about blossoms and the storm, isn't it? Petals in water rejoice with the thunderstorm : another fine mess. We're one petal trying to thank another, when we should just be rejoicing together."

Kel's smile was radiant. "Yes, exactly. And they'll understand that. I should have remembered it. Or … why not? Remind Prince Eitaro, and suggest His Imperial Majesty commission from Isao-sensei, for whatever just price he devises, a single haiku to express it, capping mine. His own haiku was … I can't say the only grace of the other night, but the sweetest."

"Oh. That's … perfect, Kel. And very clever. But I can't take credit for thinking of that." "Then don't. Oh glory, here we go."

They had come to Rokujo-oji, half the width and even more crowded, and progress slowed as they had to narrow their file. Fortunately, Mama Moriko's stall was only one block west, and the

guards sent ahead had kept both space and an assortment of tables and stools. Kel was certain Diamondflame was accommodating himself, and suspected he might be helping out more generally, but her first task was the lady herself, pink with sweat and astonishment, yet in her own domain not to be faced down by anyone. Kel caught Yuki's eye, then Cricket's, and drifted forward to stand by the Emperor and Empress, receiving with Prince Taikyuu a welcome trembling with shocked dignity and deep surprise that such great ones should have heard of her simple cooking. The Emperor did well, Kel thought, despite his automatic high mode and imperial pronouns.

"Yet how could We not, esteemed Mama, when so many of Our guards relish it? And not only heard, for some among Our most honoured guests have tasted it. Blessed Protector-sensei ?"

Kel offered a deep nod. "Do you not recall a young gaijin girl and her Yamani friend, who sneaked out to find your karaage, esteemed Mama? You once smacked a ladle across the hand of Masaro the carter for pushing them aside, so Lady Yukimi and I owe you all thanks and honour."

"That was you, Blessed? Oh my poor heart. You don't … yes you do, your eyes haven't changed." The wide eyes became shrewd, searching painted faces. "Nor yours, my Lady."

Kel gave Yuki a proper introduction, with Neal, then Shinko, who had learned enough shocking Tortallan informality to offer easy thanks.

"The third portions we bought really were for another, you see, and though I did not know it my honoured Papa also sent servants down for bowls of your karaage."

Her parents brought in Jonathan and Thayet, then she introduced Diamondflame and Kitten — and if his mindvoice produced its usual welcome hush, her enthusiasm for fierce wanazame peppers must have circulated widely and brought smiles. Best of all, with the discussion on food karaage began to appear, every bit as good as Kel remembered, and the extra-hot version for dragons earned Kit's whistling approval and a thoughtful look from Diamondflame.

This is genuinely strong for anything grown in the mortal realms. A tasty dish.

"Do dragons garden?" Kel kept a straight face. "You could take some seeds or starts back with you. Would they then taste of their essence?"

Probably. She could hear his amusement. I dare say the Green Lady might like some, too, and manage them rather better than we would. Which reminds me, what was that bone-feast you promised Dabeyoun?

"Oh, a Carthaki dish Numair told me about, baked marrow flavoured and served in bone-rings. He thought Dabeyoun might like it, but I hadn't had occasion to see him until now. Why?"

His liking for you is interesting. Weiryn and the hounds have favoured a mortal before now, but he treads a new path.

"The stormwings seem to want one of those too. And flying with the Hunt might be a real answer to their peacetime needs. I was kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner."

Ah, Protector. Nor did I, and I have been aware of the problem for very much longer, not that it was or is mine to solve. Rest assured, Wuodan and Frige will be thinking hard. And you have entirely glutted the Stone Tree Nation, so there is no haste.

"Maybe not, but this stuff all works so much better when there's some momentum." He was amused again, and she took advantage. "Tell me, is there a griffin equivalent of you or Haarist'aaniar'aan?"

He didn't have eyebrows, but one would have quirked. There is, but I do not think even you want to meet him.

"Oh. Bother. What about mule gods?"

And the other. Mule gods? No. The donkey gods look after them, I believe. What are you about now?

The tale of Junior's misdeeds with Longtail had grown in a telling or two, and she relayed it with gusto, bringing Dom and Tobe in with a complementary version of Kawit bringing miscreants to book. Everyone was listening, and as Tobe's good Yamani made vividly clear Longtail's repentance and Junior's complete lack of it, she sighed dramatically.

"So you see, my lord, even your telling-off hasn't stopped the little terror, and his parents just shrug when I can get them to pay any attention at all. They blame me for letting him get that way in the first place, but really, what they expected I've no idea. And they let him get stolen to begin with, not that I dare point that out. But if the eldest griffin is too surly, and there are no mule gods, I'm out of ideas."

A real dragon grin was quite something, she thought.

Not my problem, Protector, though I grant Longtail should have known better. You could ask Sakuyo — he was fond enough to paint Junior three times.

"Huh. That's a thought. Then again, who knows what mischief they'd persuade themselves into." So was a dragon snort. That is a wiser thought. And Junior will improve with age.

"Over a century or three. Oh well. I told him if he did it again I'd put him in petrified manacles for a week, and he did look thoughtful for all of a minute. He still cost me several hours soothing mules and muleteers, though, which I won't be getting back."

There were smiles on many faces, and Kel was satisfied. The story reimposed scale, and like Kitten and Amiir'aan made immortals more familiar and less frightening ; even Protectors, upon whom gods heaped coals of power and praise. Everyone understood rambunctious young, and with the spectacle of the Hunt fresh, yet infused with Sakuyo's laughter, aerial jesting struck a chord, and talk rose in a great buzz. As she set about a third bowl of karaage a small hand tugged her sleeve.

"Petrified manacles, Keladry-oba?"

"Yes, Akiko-chan. Griffins can rust through iron ones in no time at all. In truth, I'm not sure it would work, because I suspect bindings fail on them for the same reason lies can't be spoken in their presence, but they might hold Junior for a day or two. And I was really quite cross with him, little terror that he is, so I needed something he actually had to think about." She winked at her niece. "Besides, I said it to him, face to beak, so he knew it had to be true. I just didn't say I wasn't sure it would work."

Kitten, listening with a sated look, trilled laughter. He was still wondering about it a week later, Kel. He asked his parents too, but they would not tell him. If they know — no-one else seems to.

"Huh. Useful. You've kept very quiet about that, Kit." You didn't ask. And he was behaving himself.

"As much as he ever does, I suppose."

She wondered about yet another bowl of karaage, but settled happily for a dish of sweet dorayaki pancakes, savouring the bean paste. Tobe took to them at once, but Dom was dubious, preferring karoumetu cake. Thayet, bless her, was talking to a beaming Mama Moriko with Yuki's help, but as people shifted, pursuing conversations, her Mama slid in beside her.

"That, sweeting, was masterful. Mistressful. And so is your haiku commission. Your Papa is most relieved, even though our heads are still spinning."

"Thank Patricine. She understood."

"Better than we did, yes. But you do think on so many levels these days, sweeting. It muddles us up."

"And you think it doesn't muddle me, Mama?"

Ilane smiled, but her voice was serious. "It doesn't seem to, Kel, from outside. And you've just danced through more levels than I can count. Do you know what your Papa said?"

Hearing the question, Kel did. "Doukegata, I imagine." The stage jesters had set-pieces making themselves the butt of some tale, though usually as part of a larger plot. "I only realised in the middle, and I don't know what I might be setting-up except His Nibs in Edo. He's about, and doesn't seem cross, but he's still not talking."

"Ah. So you did know, but don't know. That does seem very Sakuyu." "Tell me, Mama. I think Jonathan gave him bad ideas."

"Sweeting!" But Ilane's eyes were alight. "You do have quite the view. And Tobe. I'm still laughing about his logic — can't move, shouldn't go up, must go down." She shook her head. "Did he really want Rogal petrified? To spare you?"

"He did, Mama, bless him. It would never have done, but the black humour was very welcome at the time."

"I imagine it was, and is."

"Oh yes. Sekkinukesaku was perfect. Huh." Kel turned a sudden thought. "And maybe we do know something. Have you noticed how much art has been involved? It started with those paintings, then the book, and now statuary, with a haiku popping up. Architecture to end with?"

"Interesting. So much grace."

"Don't forget hot needles, Mama. He won't."

After skirting Higashiyama, the Eastern Mountains bounding the bowl of Heian-kyó, the road to Edo ran east for miles beside Awaumi, the great lake, where rich grass supported the Emperor's stud. All the horses were beautiful, and there were many of them, but though Tobe was disappointed to leave they couldn't linger, and the road led away towards rounded hills, wiggled through a low pass, and dropped gently to the town of Nagoya, on Iye Bay. Thereafter the sea was rarely far away, for though this was the widest, wildest part of the island, rugged spurs of the snow-capped central mountains ran down almost to the coast. If long familiar from maps, after Nagoya it was all new to Kel, and with the weather set fair she found the rhythm of riding the

chestnut gelding a simple pleasure.

The twins helped too. After a full day of gorging herself and a night's proper sleep, some weight and, more importantly, her milk had returned, so there was the rhythm of nursing as well, restoring companionship with Yuki and Shinko. For morning feeds her Mama and nieces joined them, before sharing naginata practice, showing their aunt how seriously they were taking slow dances, though not without wistful questions about when arms might ache less fiercely and dismay at her answers. For later feeds the Empress took to coming by, delighting in babies and offering soft reminiscences of nursing, with the joy of it, and her sorrow for the elder daughter who had, like Patricine's eldest son, died in infancy.

There was a subtle invitation in it, that Kel found she didn't mind. It was a desire to understand, not prurient curiosity, and the great balance nursing set against the many deaths she'd caused was helpful in opening up some ground the Empress seemed interested in. And she had no objection at all to saying how strange she found some Yamani attitudes, nor to speaking of the burden the Black God bore for all, and of his mercy. His face she kept to herself, though she acknowledged she had seen it, and had his indemnity against souls she sent to him. That conversation won genuine first-name terms.

"I believe he granted me that, Reiko, because he knew what the siege would demand. Lord Shoji was not wrong that first night, nor did I lie in answering him. My hands slew thousands, and I never forget it. But I am enabled to bear it." She eased the babies in her killing arms. "I could have executed the Sekkinukesaku too, if I'd had to, vomiting between each one and carrying on all the same. But Rainbow read my mind last Beltane because I'd used dragonfire — just as you saw him read Kit's — so he knew I've had more than enough of killing, and took on the burden, of his and Haarist'aaniar'aan's grace. It was kind of them."

The elder basilisk was travelling with them, mostly in silence during the day, save to the other basilisks in their own tongue, but more talkatively at night when Diamondflame joined them after a day circling lazily with stormwings, or just enjoying flight over mountains, so far as Kel could tell.

"Kind? You say such strange things, Keladry, and so calmly."

"What's strange? It was kind of them. I imagine it was Rainbow's doing, or Diamondflame's. Haarist'aaniar'aan owed me no consideration."

Yuki gave her a look. "No, Keladry-chan ? You protect many basilisks, and it is not for nothing they have come to New Hope. In coming here their elder acknowledged it, surely?"

"I don't know, Yuki. The dragons asked him for me, and he acknowledged them, as elder kin. I wouldn't presume on that."

"No, you wouldn't. You never do. But the fact remains that you asked and he came, however incorrigible you are."

"Incorrigible? Yuki — "

"But it is so, Keladry-chan ." Shinko rarely interrupted anyone. "You are as bad at receiving gratitude as remorseless in earning it. And if my poor aunt and uncle are as delighted as they are rebuked by the idea of the commissioned haiku, and see its great elegance, they are still left feeling they take much and give little. A feeling you do not like at all."

A mildly shocked Kel tried to take the scolding to heart. She knew there was a mulishness in her about it, and an inconsistency, in that she didn't mind her own liegers' cheerful gratitude ; but their

gifts, when they gave them, were small, practical things they thought she could use, and occasioned her no worse a headache than saying thank you to people she liked anyway. Rulers were different, and gave by way of command, for their own satisfaction more than the recipients'. But she knew her thinking was uncomfortably like the way Jonathan was wary of gods, not because he had reason to suspect them but simply because they were more potent than he, and it rubbed him wrong. Digesting it, she made a decision, and next day ranged alongside the king as he chatted with her Papa, swallowing some lingering resentment, and asked advice. He heard her out in silence, and waited several moments before replying.

"Such fearsome honesty. I wonder what that cost you to say, Keladry, and admire you the more for it. And I share your appreciation for the practical, if not always so radically, so I'll be frank too. What we have in common is above all will. I have to have it to do what I do, Daichi too, and you must have it in spades. And having to subdue it to some greater end is … annoying. Very. I don't really understand the poem thing, but I do know Daichi feels thwarted in generosity, and I'd be grateful if you'd let him give you something mutually acceptable." He held up a hand. "I agree land isn't workable, though something strictly honorary could get round that. Money's vulgar, but I dare say New Hope can use all it can get. Or some title you have to use once a year — I'll approve almost anything by this stage."

Kel's muttered 'Hag's Bones' was too loud, and Jonathan laughed.

"But you're feeding bones to the Hag, Keladry, as best I understand, in proper gratitude."

"Gah!" She fumed for a minute, before giving up. There came a point where you had to laugh. "Papa?"

He was silent for a long while. "I am torn, my dear. His Majesty is not wrong in any particular, but I understand what price you have paid for greatness, while his came to him by birth. So I also have a keener sense of what galls you." Jonathan winced but they ignored him. "I have thought hard about your words at Midwinter, and I was wrong. I need only your mother as an anchor, but you face stronger winds, and need both of us and Anders as well as Domitan and Tobeis. It will be a dance for us all, though not an ill one." He took a breath. "But there is the Emperor's need to consider, and I have two suggestions. Let him recognise Protector of the Small as a Yamani title, with some nominal honorarium?"

She thought Jonathan might be holding his breath, but nodded soon enough. "I can live with that,

Papa, if it is nominal. Between Yuki's pickles and the probable pilgrims, I'm already taxing

Yaman as much as is wise."

"Mmm. A haiku a year, perhaps. But your bulk purchases for the pilgrims are an offset, my dear, and the growing trade will benefit all. So my second suggestion is that you let the Emperor provide a guard for the Pilgrims' Way between Mindelan and New Hope. I don't think the risk is great, but pilgrims attract thieves, and the wayhouses you sensibly propose should have a guard neither of us wants to pay for if we can pass the cost up."

Kel couldn't help grinning. "True, if horribly sneaky, Papa. I'd been wondering about some fighting ogres Kuriaju tells me will probably be making enquiries, or perhaps spidrens, or even some of the Scanrans Ragnar says he'll be wishing on me, depending, but imperial samurai would be worth their feed. And we've seen they can work with immortals."

"So we have. You'll agree?"

Kel thought about it. "One haiku a year is more than I want, but yes, if I must. And there's something else, actually, that I've been meaning to ask about — an engineer who knows about those gated channels on the Yodo, to come and tell us what is or isn't possible on the Vassa. If we

could open it for river barges all the way from Frasrlund to ha Minchi land …" Her Papa nodded thoughtfully, and she gave Jonathan a sidelong glance. "Besides, that Fourth Company of the King's Own you've been muttering about, sire, could have worse training than guarding pilgrims for a year or two."

He looked away for a minute, before giving her a half-smile. "I'll doubtless regret not taking advantage and granting the favour, but I'd already thought of it, Keladry. Vanget and Raoul both want them based north, and they'd need to know New Hope anyway. Your Pilgrims' Way is an obvious answer, and working alongside samurai and immortals a bonus."

That made sense, and she nodded. "Good. Thank you. Two things, then, sire. Please, make the recruits learn Yamani in basic training, as a standing royal order. It'll save hours of nonsense. And whoever comes to New Hope, we should recruit a spidren instructor or two for the pages and the Own and Army."

"Yes and yes. There will be much howling, but I agree about the royal order, and Alanna was very clear we had to reassess fighting with and against spidrens." He gave her a look. "I can't say it's my favourite among your many ideas, Keladry, and how you can stand their resemblance to killing devices I have no idea, but it works. I was annoyed not to have seen your sparring with Kravimal when everyone seemed to be talking about it, but I saw him fight at Kiyomizu-dera well enough, and gods, he was impressive."

"Wasn't he? I'm sorry you missed the sparring, but Thayet said she did try to wake you." He flapped a hand ruefully. "I know. I'm not good in the mornings." "Ebony or Button can show you tonight, if you want."

"So they can. But I saw you fight too, Keladry, when the darkings showed what Skysong and Amiir'aan did. The whole thing was astonishing, but you were … remarkable."

"Was I? I'd have been killed if it wasn't for Kitten, and I knew that move wouldn't work. On foot you can hold off three, but you can't kill more than two without taking a strike, unless they're idiots."

"You were still as fast as anyone I've ever seen, and Daichi said the same. I don't mean to saddle you with the logistics of the new company, except in so far as it comes under your army command, but I do want your hand in their weapons' training."

Kel shrugged. "Training's a constant. They can join in when they're around. But you don't need me or any single person, sire. What you need is a College of Weapons. The need to train pages and recruits makes for routine, and limited basics — but why did the Army forget slings, say? They used to be regular Thanic formations. Or think of Wyldon harrumphing about my glaive, so I could only practice in my own time. Keeping up with everything, and thinking about new combinations and tactics, needs full-time people. The Temple of Weapons offers a model, but the College should be attached to the Palace, independent of Army Council and Training Master."

"Huh. Cost and space?"

"Some, sire, but it needn't be big, just dedicated, with enough authority to make Council and Master listen. And I bet some veterans you already pay pensions to would fit the bill."

"It's a good thought, my dear. And an offer of board and lodging would bring shang to see and aid such a College, sire. Carthaki travelling warriors also."

"So I'd hope. And I didn't say I didn't like it, Piers. I do. A lot, in fact. But we're still out of

Palace space."

"Commission Master Geraint and the Guild, sire." Kel grinned. "We'll build you something that'll work, at cost."

"Done." Jonathan paused. "Though perhaps I'd better wait until I see this temple he's designed. The descriptions are, um, not altogether clear. Have you seen any plans?"

"Not one, sire. Architecture is Geraint's business, not mine." Kel thought back. "I do know that before they all rushed off to Edo, he was burbling about curved walls — not just circles, but spheres. It sounded interesting, like an arch but sideways as well, somehow, but when I said so he went all mathematical on me. Trigonometry I understand, but not whatever he was using. The ogres were involved, and you've seen what they can do fitting dry stone, never mind ashlar. Oh, and they were playing with colour, too. Basilisks can't change the colour of a stone unless they petrify it, but they can shade it a bit with some version of the rock-spell. Fanche's and Saefas's house has much more elaborate banding and patterning than Dom's and mine. And if they're petrifying they can do whatever they want with colour."

"Huh." A king shook his head, not in denial. "The education never stops. Fascinating. And oddly enough, a sideways arch with strange patterns would fit with what I've heard. After a fashion. But go tell Daichi the good news, would you, Piers? Then we'll join him at lunch."

They did, and the Emperor, guardedly pleased and happy to despatch and sponsor both pilgrim-guards and several engineers, sensibly wanted to know what Kel herself thought of her strange title. It was a while since she'd had to tell that story, and found her perspective changed. The elemental had been the first quasi-divine being she'd encountered, and its amusement at her expense and occasional forays into sarcasm had set a tone. But her absurd Protectorship had become real, not least because immortals had chosen to use the title, as a convenience but latterly with affection as well as something that tasted of irony. And Lord Weiryn had once said the elemental named her well. She still found the title pretentious, and too much like a boast, but she couldn't deny it described what she did, and had done again here in Yaman.

"The thing is, my Emperor, it's what everyone ought to do, always. The small, in whatever sense, should never be victims on that account alone. It's in most warrior codes, one way or another, and making it my title can make it seem as if it's my duty alone, not a basic one applying to all. I don't mind being a reminder of that duty, though, and that fits well enough with the warning the dragons are giving, on their own behalf and for all immortals in these realms."

"True. And I appreciate your scruples better now, Keladry-chan. Your most fierce refusal to presume matches the great authority granted you by immortals and High Ones, or they would not choose you to bear it. How then can I be less circumspect? More practically, as a title given by no mortal ruler, absolute in itself, it lies wholly outside all mortal ranks, meaning all might properly ignore, or properly defer. Which is, frankly, a very useful consideration just now."

There was a silence, though Yamani eyes were bright.

"Lord Diamondflame also assures me you are just as singular as you seem, such as you occurring but rarely, and always when the Timeway turns and the world with it. He is sure we enter an age of greater peace, with more harmony between all, and deems prevention of war here an echo of your Scanran peace. So I have a counter-proposal, to which Jonathan agrees. I will recognise you as Protector, a peer of all, most Blessed and free of Yaman, and Yaman will recognise the Guild, on the same terms as Tortall, with you as Guildmaster for life. What Taikyuu, Roald, Faren, and your successors do when it's their turn can await the event. Who knows how this peace will fare? Will you consent?"

"To the title, because I must, and on the Guild's behalf gladly, my Emperor. But that means you must have a branch to set about the Guild's work. You have the spidrens, and gods know you have fishing, but for petrified webbing you need a resident basilisk or three. And for architecture. Ogres too. Ask Haarist'aaniar'aan while you can, and give me an offer to make to any more immortals who turn up at New Hope? They're not ambitious in mortal ways, but they won't be exploited either. Ozorne's lesson cut deep."

"So I have seen, Keladry-chan, and thank you. All that is very useful, and most hopeful. I would have asked had you not offered." His eyes were shrewd. "And I see also how such a Guild branch will become a new link between the Daidairi, as signatory to its recognition, and working people like fishermen, through merchants but bypassing nobles — unless, of course, they choose to become involved and abide by its most interesting rules about distribution of profit."

"It could do, yes. Will you pursue that path?"

"I believe I must, Keladry-chan, though not all concur. With the Fujiwara block gone we are imbalanced, and whatever else I do, his lands will be broken up. If my counterweight with the ministries is not to be the army, it must be the merchants and artisans."

Kel hadn't thought of it in those terms, but saw another opportunity.

"Do you know how the Protectors' Maids came about?"

She spent most of the afternoon riding with the imperials and explaining why Empress's Maids would be a throroughly good thing for everyone, before dropping back to fluster Patricine with a request to consider becoming the local Guild Deputy.

"Having been to New Hope and close to the delegation, you have more experience of immortals than almost anyone here except the guards, and being kin reassures me as well as working politically. The Emperor agreed at once, if you're willing. But it's not an obligation, Patricine, only an offer. I will say, though, I think you'd enjoy it, and the children will start being away more quite soon."

"Yes, they will. Katsumi will have to live in at the Academy for two years. I'm not sure what the girls want, because they aren't either, but Akemi is clear she's in no rush to get married, and that suits me fine."

"She can come to New Hope anytime, you know. You'll need to delegate and she can learn Guild ropes, if you'd like. And let me tell you about the new Empress's Maids."

She'd have liked that discussion to carry on once they'd stopped for the night at an imperial wayhouse by a small fishing village, Suzuoka, the last stop before Edo, but after supper found herself and Dom politely cornered by Isao-sensei, with Neil in tow, eyes alight.

"You have set me a most impossible task, Blessed, and I must understand all I can. Blessed Prince Eitaro has been eloquent, and Blessed Nealan-sama, but I need your own account, of your kindness."

To Kel's considerable discomfiture and the amusement of many who gathered, her three haiku were all thoroughly considered. The one to the Emperor, Isao thought well-made and most proper, entirely commendable but not commanding. But the two addressed to Lord Sakuyo were another matter, and had the old man at once exalted and pensive in a way that made her feel slightly giddy. She was also blushing.

"They are inspired, Blessed, but just now they are not inspiring me, only making me wonder how

I can even hope to succeed in my task. But tell me what it was Lady noh Akaneru understood in quoting the last. She said it was the absurdity of petals thanking one another for a bath when the same storm has dislodged them all, and that I can grasp. But how it relates to those astonishing paintings Prince Eitaro showed me I have no idea at all."

Kel blinked. "He has them with him?"

Eitaro was listening, and nodded. "I do, Blessed Keladry-chan. We thought they might be needed at the dedication."

"I doubt it, my Prince." She wondered why she did. "There'll be new art, I think, and probably enough haiku to drown in. But that's beside the point. If they're being carried, they're still small?"

"Indeed."

"But you know the ones at New Hope grew, sensei?"

"I do, Blessed, hard as it is to imagine."

"You don't have to, sensei. Ebony?"

Button joined him on the wall, and from Var'istaan's shoulder Shale, and they made themselves big enough to convey the image Kel needed, with herself truly beside Dom, as she was now, and the blazing images of her towering above them both on the wall at New Hope. Lord Sakuyo's exquisitely calligraphed note was legible in her hand, with every mortal's eyes bugging out as her eyes had met Dom's and they had been lost to helpless laughter in which the High One had joined. The darkings made no sound but silver spread from his note to tinge their image as he did, and swirled as she crossed to Prince Eitaro to raise him from his knees and speak the haiku. The image froze, showing all three paintings with the mortals before them.

"Look at all of me, large and small, and see which laughed. Talk about a jest!"

But the old man had whipped a writing-set and paper from his sleeve, and after centring himself with a deep breath dipped his brush and set out some austerely beautiful kanji. Struck as always by the grace of Yamani calligraphy it wasn't until Kel tipped her head to read them that she realised what she had done.

Look at all of me,

large and small, and see which laughed.

Talk about a jest!

"A spontaneous haiku , Blessed." The old man sounded reverent, and Kel bit back something altogether rude as she recognised another of Lord Sakuyo's little jokes. "You have a vivid way with a final line."

"Ngh. Thank you, sensei, but that's not quite the point."

Dom laid a hand on her arm, his eyes as sympathetic as amused. "Let me try, love."

He'd had to deal with Neal in poetic mode often enough, so Kel sat back, letting exasperation dissolve into appreciation of absurdity.

"You must realise, Isao-sensei, that it was different for me, but I did understand our laugh, and the haiku when Kel translated it. She told me once she has identities like rings — the woman in her

mirror, wife and mother, commander, countess, Protector, and beyond them all things others think of her, true or false. Each is bigger than the last, as all see, yet none is more than one woman I can hold in my arms, as all but she tend to forget. Lord Sakuyo painted the Protector, and even with Kel newly wed to an old sergeant in front of them, they tried speaking to the image, not the woman."

"Old sergeant my foot, but yes, that's it, love. People behaving as if the pictures were all truth even when I'm right there, real-size. And you understood, my Prince, that you can't bow if you're laughing properly."

"I did, Blessed, most wonderfully. You laughed because you were alive to do so, and deeply in love, you said, and for all the High One's great art the paintings are neither. I told you, Isao -sensei, not to forget your image of Blessed Keladry-chan calling wonders from the air, but to set it beside the woman you would make blush if you praised her haiku, and think about the gap between them."

"And," Dom added with an assumed earnestness that told her he was suppressing laughter, "think about how you'd feel if a dragon, two gods, and two hounds of the Hunt turned up at your wedding, and everyone goggled at you. Too rude, as you say here, so now you need to apologise to them for something that isn't your fault, so you're cross as well. But their silliness isn't worth it, and life's too short, so you laugh instead and that's both right and true." Dom paused, then shrugged, his voice becoming genuinely earnest. "You praise the legend. I love the woman. Kel knows the truth."

She was still pondering that with mixed emotions when Tobe got his old-man look. "Ma sees hearts, Isao-sensei, including her own, so she wants truth, always. The legend's there to be used, like that dragon against the Scanrans, but it depends on being an illusion. So she mostly finds trying to flatter her with its reflection silly as well as annoying."

Between embarrassment, pride, and rue, balance came, and with it laughter as rich as it was serene.

"Perfect, Tobe. Thank you. And yes, Kitten's rubbed off on me. I don't know if this will help, sensei, but honestly, think about the Graveyard Hag. You saw her. Do you think wide-eyed worship will get you anywhere with her? Gods don't like cheek, but they don't want a prostrate chorus either. If I've learned anything from their messing me about so much, it's to stand tall and answer straight even when they're at their most godly. Nothing else will do. And what do people amazed by my talking back to them as if they were perfectly sensible beings — and that's moot, mind you — decide they ought to do but include me in their prostrations? And then they splutter astonishment at every suggestion they might just have missed the point! The gods laugh, sensei, because otherwise they'd scream, and I've had days that way, too many of them to count." She paused, counting, and laughed again. "But laughing is best, and your verse need not praise mine. Gods prefer a joke."

With a look of resignation the old man reached once more for his brush and Kel excused herself to nurse and enjoy with Yuki the many strange looks that had passed across Neal's face.


	42. Chapter 42

Temple

Seven : Temple

Edo, 1 April

They had arrived in Edo after dusk, and against the darkness of the sea a road-weary Kel had only been vaguely aware of a looming silhouette beside the triple rooves of two older pagoda temples, preferring the mingled scents of brine and blossom on the breeze, and her bed as soon as feeding the twins allowed. But when she and the others sought a practice court at dawn she found her gaze dramatically arrested.

The dome of the new temple was enormous, swelling above the nearby pagodas in a geometrical riot. She could see many hexagons, and a swirl of shades and colours, but nothing seemed to harmonise with anything else — except it must, somehow, for there it was, glowing in the dawnlight against a glittering sea, and Geraint knew what he was about. The structure came first, as she realised every hexagon acted like a voussoir in an arch, their own weights keeping one another in place, but it was only as the light strengthened and shadows shifted that the overlying pattern suddenly resolved into its duality.

"Oh, that's wonderful."

Her Mama and others were still squinting. "It's certainly an amazing shape. And huge."

"It's both, but I meant the kanji and the portrait. Don't you see? It's jest and tranquility, but they form a picture of Lord Sakuyo. He's facing us, straight on, and when we enter we'll be walking right under his chin." One by one they saw it, exclaiming, and Kel's mind clicked. "It must be Lord Sakuyo's own design, his answer to my fire-bow, ctheorth and yr, but neither illusory nor transient."

Yuki shaded her eyes. "Is it me, Keladry-chan, or is the High One laughing?"

"Fit to burst, I should think, Yuki. The Hag said he was being quite insufferable about his dedication. Today is going to be painful fun, as if we didn't know it. What do you suppose he's had done inside that thing?"

"I think I do not care to guess. And we will find out soon enough. Come, I need to dance."

Kel did too, and chagrined her nieces by doing the hardest pattern dance very slowly, revelling in the burn of muscle and sinew as she held control for just as long as needed. Hiyako grinned at her and spoke confidentially to both girls.

"She'll pay for showing off like that, you know. But do you see also what fuels such strength? Sight of Lord Sakuyo on his new temple has moved her, and emotion does not harm her discipline, but feeds it. Learn that, and you can do many, many things."

Kel couldn't deny it, but still. "True enough, sensei, but honest pain answers my need, also."

She should have known her Mama would pounce on that.

"Why so, sweeting?" Ilane frowned, working it out. "Your firebow saved lives."

Kel shrugged. "The illusory one did, Mama. The second was born of the dragonfire on the roadway, though I don't know who else saw it that way, and it took lives by the thousand. Please

don't fret. I don't, any more. But pushing through muscle pain is a balance as well as a duty. And I have more than one cause of grace this morning." She had left Dom with a glazed look in his eyes, and as she squatted to ease the burn in her legs saw her Mama stifle a snort. Her head was level with Akiko's. "Neal-sama tells me off for ignoring pain, and I have made mistakes doing so. He says pain is a warning to heed, and so it can be. But unless a muscle is torn, this sort of pain is only the mark of pushing yourself, as all should. You have been taught the lake and the net?"

Akemi nodded, but Akiko sighed. "Our tutors have tried, but despair of me, Keladry-oba. Pain still hurts, however I let it pass through me."

"Yes it does, Akiko-chan. Always. It just doesn't matter enough to stop you acting however you must." Which cut two ways, Kel thought, for Noriko noh Fujiwara had not let what must have been crippling pain prevent her from acting as she thought she must ; but that was for another lesson. "And a good sweat makes a hot bath a fine reward."

She wasn't sure either girl was convinced, but as a god's feast-day and dedication demanded cleanliness they had the chance to judge for themselves. Her many scars drew the usual shocked looks, but Dom had long since kissed most of those embarrassments away.

"They're a risk in training, which is why you never mess with weapons, and a certainty in war. Junior didn't help — the thin ones on my hands and arms are from feeding him, though the one on my foot was my own fault. But scars also mean you lived through whatever it was, and I've been very lucky." She touched Stenmun's spiderwelt, looking solemn. "This means I have to be careful about necklines, but as I have next to no cleavage anyway it's a handy excuse."

"Sweeting!" They were all so pink with heat Ilane couldn't go pinker, and after glaring at her daughter addressed her grandchildren. "Your blessed obasensei makes light of things I think she shouldn't, girls, but it seems to help her cope with a great deal more than I could bear."

"Oh pfui, Mama. It was only a problem while I thought I was ugly, but Dom's fixed that. Now it's just practicalities, because if I wore gowns like Adie's and Orie's it isn't my breasts people would stare at. That the twins do is one of their delights."

"Sweeting!"

The lively discussion, as frank as matrons could be and causing more people than her nieces to show fascinated blushes, saw them to a breakfast where approaching men caught some snatch of the continuing conversation and promptly peeled away, blank faced, to their own tables — even the monarchs, though not Dom and Tobe.

"Have you seen that astonishing thing Geraint's built, love?" "Oh yes. That's what started this conversation."

"It did?" Dom quirked an eyebrow. "Remind me not to ask you how. I saw the portrait, and Tobe saw the kanji as well, but couldn't read them."

"Jest and tranquility."

"Oh. That's good, then."

"Allowing for the hot needles."

"Always, love." Her laughter soared, and Dom grinned. "Occupational hazard. Or reward. Shame we can't tell which, even when it's happening. What's the schedule?"

"The dedication's at noon. Morning's for getting togged-up" — her face fell — "which means face-paint for me. Even Thayet's under orders. But I'm told Geraint's coming up to say hello and give everyone a briefing on his marvel, which I really want to hear. After … well, who knows?"

"Playing it by ear, then?"

"Of necessity, love. Can you and Tobe make sure you have our dedication gifts?"

"Already set out and waiting."

Knowing gods personally made giving them things much harder, Kel had found, besides the consideration that it was priests rather than the High Ones themselves who got any material benefit. But that might not be true today, and besides a pickle-case even more magnificent than the one she'd given the Emperor, but using woods native to New Hope, she had had a stroke of good fortune in the form of a Gallan woodcarver who'd come to see Drachifethe and the portraits, and left an exquisite carving of a hound at the shrine of Lord Weiryn. Seeing it, Tobe had summoned her, and the Gallan had admitted seeing the hound in the woods while he was travelling and being moved to carve it. The darkings would never show the Divine Realms, but Lord Sakuyo had shown himself at New Hope, which was public enough, and Ebony had been willing to show his memory of the smiling old man for whose kiss Kel had had to stoop. The result was a carving a foot high in which the god's smile was numinous, his hands veined and light with age, and the fall of his robe as perfect as anything she'd ever seen.

"Excellent. Thank you. What will you be doing while I get painted?"

"Dressing's going to take me almost as long as you, I should think." Dom had a new formal Yamani robe, which he said he felt silly wearing though Kel thought he looked very good in it. "Your father's promised to help me with the sash. What Tobe's up to I have no idea."

"Checking on the horses. And Kit's fussing about her ribbon." Tobe was very pleased with his own new formal robe, and had a wide grin. "Amiir'aan's got himself one, too, from some stall in Heian-Kyó. St'aara rolled her eyes at me and said he was young, but I think Var'istaan secretly thinks it looks good and would like one himself, but daren't say."

"Really? We could get him an over-robe for Midwinter."

The amusement almost carried Kel through the tedium of being fussed over by maids and letting her face be painted. The nerves Shinko and Yuki would have felt at any great Yamani event were stretched by what they thought of as her status with Lord Sakuyo, and the outcome was a determination that everyone be perfect. Empress Reiko shared it, so there was no stopping them, but it was boring. When she'd seen her try them on, Kel had thought Thayet actually looked very good in kimonos, and Lalasa had done her usual wonderful job with cut, line, and embroidered personal arms, combining jian Wilima inheritance and Conté royalty. Kimonos suited Alanna less well, though Lalasa had discovered an older, more simply cut style that went with her shorter, stockier build. But the Lioness, like Kel and Thayet, found face-paint a nuisance and a discrimination, and they scandalised poor Shinko and Yuki by discussing how various men would look in rice-powder white with accentuated eyes and lips, doubting it would enhance masculine dignity. Patricine helped by getting a fit of giggles, and her Mama had to call them to order, swallowing laughter of her own.

"You see, my Empress, how incorrigible my daughters are. My Queen, alas, and the Lioness must answer for themselves."

Kel translated for Alanna and Thayet, grinning, and Alanna snorted.

"I don't mind the clothes, and a bit of paint's nice enough, but all white wasn't meant for red hair or purple eyes. I look like a stage clown."

"Your eyes look good, actually, Alanna, but it wastes skin tone entirely, when Shinko and Yuki both have such lovely skin." Thayet didn't mention her own. "And I can't even cry about it."

The Empress laughed as Shinko blushed and Ilane translated. "Alas, I fear we are terrible hosts to force you to this, but even these most progressive Edo kamunushi would be too shocked if a woman came to a major dedication unpainted." She gave Kel a sidelong look. "I understand Lord Hidetaki has seen fit to complain that you lacked proper respect for the High One, in make-up as well as manners."

"Good luck to him. It wasn't me who greeted Lord Sakuyo with a thunder of sneezes."

"No." Reiko couldn't smile, because she was being painted herself, but her eyes were warm. "That occurred to many, Keladry-chan."

"So I should hope." She frowned. "Lord Hidetaki isn't here, is he?"

"But of course. As First Kamunushi of Yaman, he could not be absent."

"So he's going to be speaking?"

"He must."

"Well, I hope he's done better with his conscience than his complaint suggests, or he'll find himself sneezing his head right off, or worse." Kel started to shake her head and was prevented by a determined maid with a brush. "He doesn't even have a political excuse left, not that he should have needed one in the first place."

"That he does understand, I believe, but he was the late Lord Fujiwara's man, and does not approve of the changed circumstances."

Kel stared. "Was he still keeping to his rooms when …?"

"He was, Keladry-chan, and though he has seen the Sekkinukesaku, he seems not to have experienced the, ah, clearer understanding that came to others that night. Apparently he finds it improper that you should have called on a, forgive me, gaijin god rather than Lord Sakuyo."

"Huh. Can gods be gaijin? Actually I have some sympathy with the thought, but Lord Sakuyo couldn't help with what was needed, and those I turned to could." The truth of it resonated so strongly and suddenly that Kel half-wondered if she'd heard a chime. Was that why …

"What is it, sweeting?"

"Just a thought, Mama." The humour hit her too, and even the disapproving maid couldn't stop her laughing. "You know I was waiting on Lord Sakuyo's jest? But I begin to wonder if he was waiting on mine."

The peace spread within her, and she knew she was right, though why he had wanted it that way eluded her.

"Sweeting? What jest?"

"All of it, Mama — dragons and the Hunt and me stuck up on Lord Arawn. It was justice for his poor murdered kamunushi too, as well as Kit and Amiir'aan, though I still don't see why he

couldn't have taken care of that himself if he was offended. Oh well. As Kit insists, there's no accounting for gods. And I suppose he got the statuary out of it, for his artistic theme, as well as drumming up interest in this dedication."

It was perhaps fortunate that with faces all painted they had to start dressing, but she had to deal once again with reaction to her scars, this time from the Empress — though not the one she was used to. With a strange look in her eyes Reiko reached a slim hand to touch the welt above her breast.

"A spiked axehead. My uncle had a very similar scar, and always counted himself lucky to have survived the wound."

"I was too, Reiko. It was Stenmun Kinslayer's axe. But Neal patched me up well enough, and his father dealt with the bone injury."

"Ah. I remember the tale. You have already fought so often and hard, Keladry-chan, and we found you yet more opponents. I am so sorry."

Kel shrugged uncomfortably. "I chose to train as a warrior, and I don't regret it. Nor have you added any scars."

"Your leg will not scar?"

Kel was still self-conscious about her solid ankles, but twisted her leg to show the injury, or rather, where it had been. "Not in the least. I didn't do anything consciously, but the staff's power seems to have healed it completely. Something did, at any rate."

"Truly your life is strange and wonderful, Keladry-chan."

The conversation lapsed in the need to settle under-kimonos and over-kimonos, and tie each obi correctly. Reiko's kimonos were magnificent, though not, Kel thought, any more so than Lalasa's work adorning Thayet, Shinko, Yuki, Alanna, her Mama, and herself, and the murmuring approval of maids as well as the Empress's sharp eye confirmed her judgement. They made a very proper and impressive gaggle of Yamani ladies, saving Alanna's hair, though her deep blue over-kimono more than cancelled the clown effect she had feared, and transformed her prowling walk into an elegant glide Kel admired.

"Good. They cost enough, for something I'll never wear again."

"Oh I don't know, Alanna. You could cut a wonderful figure at the Queen's Ball."

Thayet agreed, but persuading Alanna would have to wait, for a maid came to tell them Blessed Geraint-sensei and his immortals had arrived, and His Imperial Majesty requested their presence. Kel hadn't had a chance to explore the imperial residence, and looked about with interest as they were led through several smaller reception rooms to an austere but beautiful audience room. It had only one throne, but that wasn't a problem, for the Emperor and everyone else — including Haarist'aaniar'aan and all the Guild delegation's immortals — were clustered round a knot of familiar faces and an array of models set on a table. The cluster broke open as the Empress was announced, and Kel saw both Dom and Tobe looking splendid, with Jonathan in a fine robe of his own, but duty called. She was delighted to see Geraint (who was speaking fluent Yamani, though he hadn't had a word of it when he'd left), as well as Manian'aan and Fariaju, who had led the basilisk and ogre builders, but was surprised when Geraint made his way round the table to greet her very formally as Guildmaster and take her hands, muttering swift Tortallan.

"Lady Kel, good to see you. And I dunno what you've been up to, but His Majesty ordered me to

greet you properly the second I saw you."

"And good to see you too, Geraint. Politics. Don't worry about it." She raised her voice in Yamani. "Thank you, Blessed Geraint-sensei. All has been well with the Guildmembers working here?"

"It has, Blessed Guildmaster. And I believe Manian'aan and Fariaju will agree that the needs of their kinds have been generously met."

They did, though Kel could see speculation in their eyes as she thanked them fulsomely for their work, and the Emperor for his care.

"But please, Blessed Geraint-sensei, do not let me delay further your explanation of the wonder you have wrought."

The hexagons worked as she'd half-understood, each bound by the whole on an underlying skeleton tracery of petrified timber that had served as a form. Geraint had disassembled pieces as well as a complete model, and clever fingers stacked small hexagons in place to demonstrate what he was saying, real enthusiasm in his voice despite the months of labour.

"It's a marvellous system, Your Imperial Majesty, and on a smaller scale could be managed by mortals alone, though it would take longer. There are weight limits, of course, but as long as each edge is properly jointed and bonded the whole dome binds itself together, just as an arch does. You could roof a large area with a single dome. And I believe, though I haven't been able to do the calculations properly yet, that you could use glass and iron instead of thinly sliced and petrified wood." His eyes found hers. "I was thinking about a greenhouse big enough to take a whole fruit tree or even a grove of them, but I'm not sure about windage or the weight of snow there might be in winter."

"It is a fine thought, Blessed Geraint-sensei. Oranges and lemons grown at New Hope would be something else. Perhaps we could start with a small one and see what happens."

"Indeed, Blessed Guildmaster-sensei." Kel noted the new vocative with an internal sigh, but the Emperor seemed genuinely interested, as well he might be. "A small structure that extended the growing season, even by a few weeks, would be a boon for many of Our subjects, especially those in the mountains where winter bites soonest and last longest. And this wonder comes of the collaboration the Guild fosters?"

Geraint needed no prodding, but spoke simply. "Entirely so, Your Imperial Majesty. Only together could mortals, basilisks, and ogres see that it could be done, and the strengths of all have made it happen."

"An eloquently plain case, Blessed Geraint-sensei. And We are the more delighted to know there will soon be a branch of the Guild in Heian-Kyó, to aid our architects and sailors, and doubtless many others. Truly, you bring us many delights, Blessed Protector-sensei."

"It is my honour, my Emperor." He might be dancing vocatives, but Kel had no need, and there was something more important. "Yet while the structure is the Guild's achievement, the decoration must be Lord Sakuyo's own. How did it come about, Blessed Geraint-sensei, that your temple so wonderfully displays kanji of good omen and the High One himself?"

"It was the strangest thing, Lady Kel. Blessed Guildmaster-sensei, I should say." She waved a hand in negation. "I had two most vivid dreams in the very week we arrived at Edo and saw the site. One was of a voice that patiently explained to me a mathematics of curved surfaces, so that I woke knowing it utterly, though I had gone to sleep in complete ignorance. We worked it through,

and it was exactly what we needed to describe the potential all had seen. And a few days later I dreamed a long list of numbers that I frantically wrote down on waking. It took us a while to realise they were references for a curved surface also, but then we mapped them and a young kamunushi the Temple had assigned to us recognised both kanji and eventually the portrait." Geraint shook his head. "It was not easy, for image paid no attention to structure, sprawling across hexagons as it needed, so it wasn't a tiling pattern we could follow but another whole design layer. But in the end Manian'aan worked out how to do it with the rock-spell, varying the translucency, and though it took some fiddly work, you see the outcome."

"I do. And the orientation? The High One's face looks towards this imperial residence."

"Oh. It does, doesn't it. But the placement was integral to the numbers, Lady Kel. It is as it was dictated to me, and no-one has said anything against that. Is it —"

"Not in the least, sensei. Merely a fact to be duly noted." Her gaze found the Emperor's. "Though how Lord Sakuyo's portion of the due fee is to be calculated escapes me, my Emperor. If he manifests, as we must suppose he will, and the opportunity arises, I'll ask him."

There was what Kel supposed was a pregnant silence, with half the Yamanis about the Emperor paling and the other half reddening, as if she'd said something rude. Thayet's emotions were hidden behind her face paint, but Jonathan's smile was somewhere between amused and sardonic as he caught her Papa's quiet translation. She thought a Yamani man she didn't recognise, a local lord from his dress, was going to protest but it was the Empress who broke the silence, her hand resting lightly on her husband's arm.

"Of your grace, Blessed Keladry-chan. We should be glad to be sure what the High One finds acceptable is such a delicate matter. Yet I confess myself surprised no word of these strange dreams came to Heian-Kyó."

A kamunushi who must be the senior local divine, one Revered Eiji if she recalled the correspondence rightly, bowed deeply, face serene.

"This fortunate one shared the dreams, Your Imperial Majesties, just as Blessed Geraint-sensei describes them, as did others of the Temple here, so though the numbers meant nothing to us we were as sure as he they came from Lord Sakuyo. So too the shared and vivid dreams of gaijin and immortal presences that made us send to the Guild in the first place. But the First Temple in Heian-Kyó had expressed so many doubts of our judgement in commissioning the Guild, and so harshly, we thought it easier not to burden them with another revelation, and when we prayed for guidance we found ourselves most easy about that decision."

Face paint did have its uses after all, for without hers Kel would have been grinning, and a calm stillness served her better with the Emperor raising an eyebrow at her.

"We know Lord Sakuyo did not care for interference with his calligraphy, my Emperor, and it would seem he forestalled any with his chosen architecture. I wonder what Lord Hidetaki has made of the sight he affords us."

The kamunushi remained serene but acquired an appreciative air, as well as frank curiosity in his eyes. "Alas, he professes himself entirely horrified at the abandonment of the traditional pagoda design, Blessed Guildmaster-sensei, and says looking at it gives him a headache."

"Oh … dear. Does he not see the kanji and portrait?"

"Not yet, I think, though we have pointed them out to him. He will when he enters the building. But forgive my dreadful manners, Blessed. I am Eiji, and have the honour to lead the kamunushi

of Lord Sakuyo in this city."

"Keladry of New Hope, Revered Eiji." He was very surprised to be offered her hand, quite against Yamani protocol, but if the Emperor wanted her as Guildmaster and Protector to stand apart she might as well take advantage to suit her own notions of courtesy. "It is my pleasure to meet you."

"And my great honour to meet you, Blessed. The tales of you are most wonderful, and were most confusing until I was able to read your book, some days ago now."

Kel wanted to crow delight — at last someone who got it, and a sensible kamunushi to boot — but only inclined her head.

"Indeed. You were meant to have a copy rather sooner, I imagine, than Lord Hidetaki's so zealous doubts about Lord Sakuyo appending himself allowed. And as you have perhaps heard, the High One was not entirely amused."

"So I gathered, Blessed. May I ask frankly if he has spoken to you at all of what he desires of us this day?"

"Not a word, Revered Eiji."

"Ah. More surprises, then."

"Oh yes."

"And your own business this day, Blessed?"

"Proper respect only, unless Lord Sakuyo dictates otherwise. But should he manifest, the dragons Lady Skysong and Lord Diamondflame have some business of their own. It does not concern mortals at all, but as Guildmaster and Lady Skysong's guardian I have some slight interest."

He processed that, worry coming into his eyes. "They are most astonishing beings, Blessed, and all were amazed to be greeted by them as we came here. They seemed to appreciate the temple, also. But I do not believe the greater can fit into even the space Blessed Geraint-sensei has built us, for the door is not large enough to admit him."

"Oh he'll deal with that, Revered. Dragons go where they will, always. But while it is, as I say, no mortal business, his presence is of high importance to gods and dragons alike. We should all appreciate its symbolism, for Lord Diamondflame is old enough to remember the sorrow of the Godwars, and he as much as we celebrates a new peace. But, believe me, Revered Eiji, and all who hear, he will not want to talk about it, save to the High One. Recall his words in the book about the limits to which mortals may safely presume. I counsel against exploring those limits."

"Wisdom indeed, Blessed. Just another guest then, however he is so very large and disconcerting, and has some private business with a god?"

Kel suppressed a grin, though she'd bet her amusement showed in her eyes. "Exactly so, Revered. We just get on with it, and those beyond us do as they will and need."

"Very well." He took a deep breath. "Then there is only one other thing, Blessed, which I confess I have been putting off in some trepidation. We have as yet no statue of the High One, for those we tried to commission reported vivid dreams telling them to decline, with an assurance that what was needed would be provided. Which it has not yet been. Would it happen that you know anything of this, Blessed?"

Kel savoured the joke. Lord Sakuyo's silence might have been annoying, but it was paying dividends, and her sense of anticipation grew.

"As it happens, Revered, I think I do. Tobe, could you please fetch the carving we brought as a dedication gift." She looked around, catching Eitaro's eye and others' who had heard her at Suzuoka, including Isao-sensei. "It is such a large dome, my Prince, and such a very small carving for this purpose."

Eitaro thought about it for a moment, and half-smiled, nodding. "So it begins, Blessed Keladry-chan. He is being most thematic, isn't he? Though this so small carving might grow in place, I suppose."

"That's a thought. But staying small might work better."

"May this puzzled one ask the theme, Your Imperial Highness?"

"Of course, Revered. It's somewhat complicated in anything other than haiku, but perception and reality covers it, I think. Blessed Keladry-chan?"

"Yes." Kel wagged a hand. "Or truth and illusion, but he has them playing tag again."

"As he did with you at New Hope, Blessed. So you mean the carving might grow as your paintings are said to have done?"

"Exactly, Revered. You are a prince among kamunushi, as well as a kamunushi among princes." The Emperor had a look that was thoughtful as well as full of amused agreement. "And there is the theme of art also, running through all, though whether as a means or an end I have no idea."

Eiji nodded slowly. "Mmm. Interesting, Blessed. We say art is its own end, but surely it may teach us of truth and illusion, while perception and reality are always at its heart. And the art of Blessed Geraint-sensei and the immortals who have laboured here on our behalf has taught us much already. I begin to see, I think. Ah, is this the statue?"

Tobe would have given it to her, but at her gesture bowed to Revered Eiji and knelt to offer it to him, both hands carefully on the base. The imperials came to his side, peering as reverently as he, and another silence fell.

"It is exquisite, Blessed. Yet as you saw an absurdity may attend it when we set it in place. Although … no, I cannot tell. And noon approaches. Perhaps we should just proceed and see what happens."

There had been a fishing village at Edo for centuries, but it was only in the Emperor's grandfather's reign that it had really begun to grow as a port, and both the imperial residence and the temple district were west of the mercantile docks and new houses, the land around them still open though some cherry groves had been planted. A path — or a young road — had been built directly from the Emperor's front door to the High One's, and was lined twenty and thirty deep with Edoans of all ages, in fullest fig and entirely unable to stop staring in many directions at once.

There were the Emperor and Empress, with the Princes, the gaijin King and Queen and mixed Crown Couple, the famous female warrior whose eyes really were purple, some of the rumoured spidren samurai, new basilisks and ogres large and small, and the unbelievable dragons. The stormwings were circling lazily in a feeding pattern, so Kel knew there was fear as well as wonder and joy in people's hearts, but her attention was on the looming temple, appreciating its pure lines more as the angle made the portrait invisible. Kit was enthusiastic too, thinking it would be fun to

light up its stone, and even Diamondflame was complimentary.

It is another new thing, strong and clever as well as pleasing to the eye. And though my size makes people afraid, those here are already far less troubled than were those elsewhere. New Hope's peaceful cooperation will spread faster than I had thought.

"I hope so, my lord. And I suspect we're in for a memorable joke to speed it on its way."

Very probably. He sounded more resigned than curious. Still, Sakuyo is at least doing something more interesting than annoying, and one has to admire the scale of it.

"From your perspective that's saying something."

He snorted a laugh, causing a ripple in the crowd. Ah, Protector. These days you do not deal on so much smaller a scale yourself, you know.

Kel was still thinking about that with a sense of the ridiculous when they came to the doors, austerely beautiful in plain, richly grained wood, and as Revered Eiji ceremonially pushed them back and invited the Emperor and Empress to enter she caught her first glimpse of the interior. For a Sakuyan temple it looked amazingly austere, but as she passed inside at Dom's side she realised why it had to be so. The pattern on the petrified hexagons was of thinner, more translucent stone, the whole letting through a hazy wash of light but projecting the pattern of kanji and portrait in brighter light onto darker stone forming the curve of the further wall, so the god in all his jesting and tranquility shimmered before them, vast and ethereal. In the centre was a tall circular plinth intended for the statue, flanked by two large and slightly lower oblongs of clean stone creating platforms where worshippers could stand in ceremony ; mirror-symmetrical steps cut diagonally across their front faces reminded her of Geraint's enthusiasm for perrons.

The rest of the space was bare save for neat tatami matting, but packed with people — including, she was pleased to see, a block of commoners, fishermen, port, and field workers with their families, so all of Edo was represented. Solemn excitement at sight of the imperials dissolved into goggling as Diamondflame used magic to enter and grant himself space without affecting the pattern of light or the simple symmetry of plinth and stone. He didn't say anything, but she was aware of his pleasure in the design and airy space, and of Kit's. The imperials were pleased too, and though her mind was full of her own appreciation of the way it was at once new and deeply Yamani, she enjoyed the looks on Jonathan's and Alanna's faces. Even Haarist'aaniar'aan seemed struck, rotating his head to take it in and saying something in the sliding-gravel noise of the basilisks' own tongue that had Manian'aan looking pleased. As they took their places Kel found Revered Eiji in front of her.

"Blessed, it being your gift, might you honour us by placing the statue, before Lord Hidetaki makes his dedication address?"

She noticed the First Kamunushi had arrived from somewhere, with Lord Kiyomori, and was standing with a pinched face before a crowd of Sakuyan kamunushi whose faces told her at once whether they came from Heian-Kyó or Edo. How should the jest play out?

"Is that not Lord Hidetaki's own privilege, Revered?" "One might think so, Blessed, but he would not, ah …"

"No, he wouldn't, would he?" First Kamunushi or no, he wasn't the man to appreciate the absurdity involved. "Well, if you desire it, Revered."

Tobe had carried the statue down, and Kel had brought the heavier pickle-box herself. They

swapped, and in a new silence no less filled with goggling she walked forward and climbed the steps of the left-hand platform. Kimonos as much as piety made it wise to kneel before leaning forward to place the statue on the plinth, and she felt hilarity threaten as for all its grace it was invested by an absurdity ; but it wasn't yet the time, and the absurdity was so great it would soon seem heavy-handed. Keeping her face grave with some difficulty, and once again allowing that face-paint had its uses, she stood, contemplating the foot-high carving and the great shimmering spread of the portrait in light. Sight of Lord Hidetaki's horrified expression nearly undid her.

"Mmm. If you will permit yourself the repetition, High One, perhaps just as large as life would be the richer jest."

Laughter whispered in the air, or perhaps only in her mind, and with a soft silver glow the statue slowly enlarged until saving colour it was just as she'd seen him before his shrine at New Hope that day. The glow faded again, though something silver remained about the carved eyes, and it was perfectly right. People had exaggerated ideas about the gods, too, and the contrasts of dappled light and simple, graceful wood just reaching her shoulder spoke to them exactly. The silence was deeper and Yamani eyes wider than ever.

"Marvellous. Thank you, my Lord, and all honour to you."

She curtseyed to the statue and straightened, surveying the ranks before her. Revered Eiji had a look of pure pleasure on his face, sensible man, and Lord Hidetaki an expression one might rather associate with severe indigestion. But it was his turn, and a tickling mischief loosened her tongue as she looked down at him.

"Is it not a wonder, my lord? And quite done growing, I think, if you would care to begin."

He wasn't happy about it, even now, but came forward, and the look he gave her as she timed it so that he had to wait a moment while she cleared the steps was laced with anger and some darker disquiet. She would have returned to stand by Dom and Tobe, but a gesture from the Emperor brought her to his side, next to Eitaro.

"If you do not mind, so very Blessed Keladry-chan, I think I will need you beside me."

His voice was a murmur, and she nodded, turning to watch Hidetaki gain the platform. He studied the statue for a moment, and then the crowd, mixed emotions all too clear and voice harsh when he spoke.

"A wonder the Blessed Protector-sensei calls it, and so all must agree. Statues should not change size. And this strange building is a great marvel, many say, with auspicious kanji and an image of the High One they claim to find in the pattern of light. More, we live, it seems, in a time of wonders, when spidrens fight alongside samurai against ronin, and immortals pass judgement of death on a great lord."

She saw the Emperor's hands tense but even Hidetaki wasn't going there, only reviewing a fact.

And he had spine, whatever his failings.

"That I erred myself in the matter of the Blessed Protector-sensei's book is plain. Its last words are truly those of the High One, as all must now know, but I do not understand his purpose in writing them. Nor in desiring this building, if he did, however marvellous its construction. Yes, it has a beauty of its own, but it lacks all tradition. It may be inauspicious, and for all these wonders about us I fear that Revered Eiji leads his kamunushi and all Edoans astray."

He really did, too. Kel could hear the sincerity in his voice, but she didn't think it would save him now, and listened with growing anticipation as he lamented the abandonment of the pagoda form

and triple rooves, so rich in symbolic and accumulated value. When he passed on to the sheer unwisdom of failing to commission a proper statue for the shrine, and relying on the High One himself to make good the deficit, most improperly, however gracious his divine response, she nearly laughed aloud. He did have a knack of missing a point most thoroughly, and was intent on capping his own incomprehension — but behind him, at long last, without any betraying silver and with a finger delicately across his lips, enjoining silence from all, the High One slipped into the world. The old head cocked attentively, mischief dancing in starry eyes, and Kel felt divine power gripping all to prevent any from prostrating themselves.

"Are we then to abandon the tradition of centuries without thought or regret? To heed those who are neither Yamani nor mortal before our own wisdom and ancestral ways? To follow dreams that make no sense? How can we know this is what the High One wants?"

"You could always ask me, my son. Not that you seem to listen very carefully to my answers."

Sakuyo's voice was mild, the look on Lord Hidetaki's face priceless as with infinite slowness he turned, shock giving way to mortified horror. Silver flicked from long fingers, and the kamunushi froze — just as the stormwings had contorted and Haarist'aaniar'aan had frozen the faces of the Sekkinukesaku, though less permanently, Kel very much hoped, even in her fascinated satisfaction.

"Perfect. Forgive me, my son, but on your own you could not hold the required pose. Now then, let's see."

A wave of one hand produced a curiously curved easel and canvas, with an extension holding paint-pots and brushes that Sakuyo took up. With a long glance at the immobile Hidetaki he began to paint, using both hands with great speed, and Kel's bubbling amusement, which was becoming quite painful to suppress, eased into a glittering elation as she wondered how long he'd be about it and realised everyone was still gripped by his power because they would all be painted, and a sea of prostrate backs was not what he had in mind. But Diamondflame wasn't gripped by anything, nor other immortals, and she found she could turn her head to meet his gaze and share his unspoken thought. Gods!

"Just so, Keladry-chan, but I am a god, and perfectly capable of doing two things at once, or even three." Sakuyo hadn't turned round or stopped painting, and the old voice was just as rich and sly as she remembered. "Do bring Skysong up. I expect she's curious, and we owe one another some thanks you will find interesting."

Why he owed Kit thanks Kel didn't know, and Diamondflame had a speculative look. But the divine pressure that continued to grip all mortals save her was an awkwardness that would rapidly grow worse, although she did appreciate the spectacle of the impious Sakuyans quite unable to prostrate themselves when they would truly wish to do so.

"Might you let people stand on their own, my lord? I'm sure none will be so silly as to move before you have painted them."

"Are you? Optimist. But so are we all, these interesting days."

The power did not withdraw, but it eased a little, and she did what else she could by offering the imperials a curtsey and excusing herself before walking across to the dragons. Diamondflame lowered his head to her, mindvoice private.

No, I don't know what he meant, Keladry, but I think he offers more good will, easing our difficulty in thanking any god for anything. I will be listening hard, and may speak directly, but for now let Skysong say what she must.

She gave a fractional nod, and knelt, holding out an arm to a pensive dragonet. "Those steps would be awkward for you."

Yes, they would. I cannot decide if this is annoying or not.

Kel swallowed a laugh. "Well, why not wait and see if you're annoyed afterwards? Meantime, let's not be rude and keep Lord Sakuyo waiting."

Kit let herself be scooped up, clicking a greeting to Ebony, all but invisible against Kel's dark green obi. Once again Kel climbed the stone steps, and they both peered for a moment at the scene beginning to take shape beneath Sakuyo's flying brushes — a panorama of the moment they all stood in, Hidetaki gaping a horror of mortification and chagrin, her own face alight with amusement, the Emperor's and Empress's wide-eyed but appreciative, and others appearing by the second with every human expression you could imagine. The curved canvas, which she realised would expand to fit the rear wall, allowed an encompassing view in which its own intended location would figure towards the top, and she wondered if there would be a receding series of self-replications there or something else entirely. The train of thought was arrested by Kitten's plaintive mindvoice.

Thank you for warning Kel so she could save my life, god Sakuyo. I would not like being dead.

He might be able to do ever so many things at once, and didn't stop painting, but he did look at Kit, who had spoken in modeless Yamani.

"You are very welcome, dragon Skysong, and I claim no debt. I could not be indifferent to harm offered one who scolds my brother Mithros so very admirably. My sister Shakith warned me of futures in which you died, so I watched closely. And it was but a warning — Keladry-chan did all the work."

I have said thank you to Kel already. And she is always kind. But why do you think you owe me any thanks? I do not understand that.

"Ah, but it was danger to you that made Keladry-chan act, as I hoped she would. For all her fierceness she is most exasperatingly modest, and was so very determined not to presume on my imagined wishes she would not act for herself." Sakuyo was, Kel realised, entirely audible to all, and indignation flared. "Until poor Michizane in his delusions acted against you, little one, and then she was entirely splendid." He glanced at her, grinning at the outraged splutter she hadn't been quite able to suppress. "But it is true, Keladry-chan. I could stand between any number of griffins and say it without so much as blushing."

"You, my lord," she told him wrathfully, "could stand between griffins and say two and two made eleventy-three. And I shouldn't think you can blush."

"Harsh but true." He grinned again, delightedly, before turning back to his painting, now crowded with faces and beginning to fill with patterns of light. "But only consider, Keladry-chan. I am but a poor god. My brother Mithros owes me no rueful favours, nor my brother Weiryn, who would no more let me lead his Hunt than talk in haiku."

"That was you."

"Was it? You're a better poet than you know, daughter. And I ask you, can I command the presence of dragons, or restrain their righteous wrath by promising them justice for their threatened kit? No, no — we gods were all most puzzled by the difficulty building here in Yaman, yet untouched by the Timeway's roil, and there you were, with so many resources willing to your hand. Eager too, half of them, for more fun with you, just like the darkings. Whatever did you

expect of us?"

"What did I expect? Why, you, you …" Thought caught up with outrage. "Do you mean that was all just me? Not what you wanted at all?"

"It was exactly what was needed, Keladry-chan, but I had no thought of wanting it thus. Only that if I placed you here amid it all — or yes, inveigled you, but you are so honourably inveiglable, not that that word exists — you would as always cleave to the heart, caring for all who could possibly be saved. And so you did. With a little prodding." A flurry of wide-armed brushwork added a tracery of shadows to the image. "And you were splendid, truly. I cannot remember when so much unexpected laughter last filled so many of us at once. Your flame was so bright, your purpose so pure, your method so marvellously direct and absurd, all at once, and your laughter so terrible, quite rivalling ours."

"Pfui." She shook her head, emotions exploding in all directions. "Flatterer. The rest, my lord, maybe, but that's sheer nonsense."

"Is it, Keladry-chan?" His voice became thoughtful as his hands added the loom of the curving roof, and hovered over the area where an infinite recession might be possible. "What should go here, do you think? A portrait of Geraint-sensei and his team, who have done such fine work? Or of young Skysong, who made so much possible? Mmm. I know." Hands moved again. "It is true you cannot yet laugh as terribly as we. I was employing rhetorical licence. But it is also true that were there a suitability test for godhead, which is very nearly what use of that staff amounts to, you would have passed with flying colours."

"Don't you dare! I have a mortal life to live, my lord, and it's been messed about quite enough already."

"Timing, merely." He waved a hand and brush, though no paint spattered. "And I'm afraid not, daughter. You have made yourself far too interesting for gods or dragons, or anyone else for that matter, to keep their hands off for long. My brother of death guards you fiercely, but you already joke with his daughter, and one of these days you'll invite him to dinner, out of pure kindness."

Kel nearly stamped her foot, but managed to draw a very deep breath instead. "He deserves a dinner more than you do." She took another breath as he grinned, hands flying. "My lord, are you really telling me that you'd have let the murder of your poor kamunushi and the attempt on Kit's life go unpunished if I hadn't acted?"

"Who now knows, daughter? Not even my sister Shakith, I think. And who cares, when there is no need? You did act, spectacularly so, which is why I commemorate it."

Even as he spoke she could see the painting -within-a-painting take shape under swift brushes, with her unloading Fujiwara's mother from Lord Arawn's back and the Hunt with so many others looking on, faces tiny but still recognisable. He somehow had hers combining rage and pity, and her outrage faded into an amusement laced with thin sorrow for the dead as she saw the contrast there would be between that version of her and the smiling one from today below it.

"If you say so, High One, who can contradict you? But it was all so muddling. Couldn't you have made yourself plainer?"

"Not by one whisker, my daughter. And it was as well I didn't, for only with the purest outrage, and true cause, can any mortal summon and command the Wild Hunt. Besides, as your poor king will tell you, you really aren't very good at obeying orders. Or far too good, depending on one's perspective. No, a general brief and a free hand suits you best, by a long mile, and while gods may of necessity be annoying, we are not fools. I hoped to set up a jest by adding to your most

interesting 'Note', and gladly acknowledged it when you asked me so finely, but the hand you played was your own."

Diamondflame leaned forward, extending his neck to look more closely at the painting, and Kel caught his eye.

"Did you know that, my lord?"

I strongly suspected it, Protector. The gods were too surprised for it to be their idea. And in answering your own need you answered ours, and the basilisks', as well as the gods' and Daichi noh Takuji's. It was well done, as Sakuyo says.

His mindvoice stopped, but Kel knew he was speaking privately to Sakuyo, not in words alone but with that vast wave of mental exchange she sometimes half-sensed between adult dragons. The god's hands didn't stop painting, but after a moment they did shift area, adding to the watching crowd the forms of Diamondflame and Kitten, the elder dragon utterly majestic, the younger delightfully alive with her usual curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Diamondflame withdrew his head with what Kel interpreted as a resigned snort, but she didn't think he was displeased. Kitten shifted in her arms, peering.

Oh, that is a better picture of me than the portrait at New Hope.

"Perhaps I am a better painter, little one. Or perhaps you have grown more paintable."

Kit frowned, and swivelled her head to look at Kel, who smiled.

"A bit of both, I think, Kit. But if you're all done, there are others who owe Lord Sakuyo duty today."

"So there are, daughter. And I adore presents. I'm nearly finished with this, so do bring them all along."

Surprised, Kel's mind raced through the politics, realising that the Emperor would find it easier if only one person — no longer present in Yaman — had stood between him and the High One. She also reckoned numbers, and briefly considered the still frozen figure of Lord Hidetaki.

"Of course, my lord. And as you've finished the portrait of Lord Hidetaki, might you release him?"

Starry eyes rested briefly on her. "Generous to a fault, as ever. He had many most unkind thoughts about you, you know. And I really can't have a First Kamunushi who simply will not appreciate my jokes, however sincere his traditionalism."

"Even so, my lord. The overdone jest is no jest." It was a traditional Sakuyan caution, and his smile was warm. She set Kit down. "Let me take him?"

"If you insist, Keladry-chan."

She saw no gesture but felt power withdraw from Lord Hidetaki, and swiftly slipped an arm around the old man as his knees buckled, wincing at the low, terrible sound that came from him, pain and shame and fathomless sorrow all in one. Her other hand found a handkerchief tucked between her kimonos, and seeing how Lord Hidetaki's hands shook she gently pushed his head upright and carefully dried his streaming eyes, ignoring Sakuyo's silent laughter.

"Come, my lord." A trembling hand took the handkerchief. "You must meditate on the great jest you have starred in, and see beyond your own pain the wild kindness to Yaman. But first you owe

the High One an apology, and His Imperial Majesty your resignation."

Words were beyond him, but when she helped him kneel to Sakuyo one long-fingered hand rested on his head in acknowledgement and the wrenching emotions in his eyes dulled. Kel knew he'd be deeply asleep before long, and as she helped him up and supported him descending the steps, Kitten bouncing down in front of her, her eyes found Lord Kiyomori's and Revered Eiji's. A crooked finger had them discovering they could move again, and with bows to Sakuyo, still painting away, they cautiously moved to join her as Kitten scampered back to her grandsire and she walked Lord Hidetaki towards the Emperor, who had also bowed to the High One as he found he could. Imperial eyes met her gaze, dark with emotions she couldn't name, and she shook her head fractionally.

"Words must wait, my Emperor, whatever they are. And I don't think Lord Hidetaki can speak, but he offers you his sincere apologies and his resignation."

"I imagine he does, most astonishing and Most Blessed Keladry-chan. And We accept them, with thanks for his long service and more for his part in this most exemplary lesson. We also command him not to commit seppuku without Our permission, and to meditate upon his experience for at least a full year before even beginning to consider whether he wishes to seek it."

Thinking how very Yamani and impossible that was, Kel passed the old man's weight off to Lord Kiyomori, ignoring the Second Kamunushi's look and speaking quietly to Revered Eiji, whose eyes were bright.

"He'll be out like a light in a minute, Revered, so get him lying down somewhere safe, please. But come back swiftly — you need to give Lord Sakuyo your dedication gifts."

"I hear you, Blessed. And thank you most sincerely, on Lord Hidetaki's behalf as well as my own."

"And I, Blessed." Lord Kiyomori's voice was ragged. "Your grace is not the least wonder of this day."

"Isn't it, my lord? Yet the people who know me will find it funny I had a spare handkerchief, even in kimonos, but no wonder."

Between them they escorted Lord Hidetaki away, his steps faltering, towards some back door for the kamunushi of the temple. Following their progress for a moment Kel saw Geraint, beside his basilisk and ogre companions, and another face in the crowd, one she hadn't expected, but was very right. First things must come first, though, and if order was needed, solemnity wasn't.

"My Emperor, my Empress, my Princes? Time to give the High One his gifts, and see his painting. And if you led, my Emperor, as is proper, you could present your guests, with their gifts." She lowered her voice. "I'm fairly sure he's done with hot needles, and it's all grace now."

The Emperor took a deep breath, voice little more than a whisper. "Words may have to wait a long time, Keladry-chan, for I do not believe adequate ones exist. And should you not present me?"

"Hardly. Go on up, and I'll tell the others and bring Eiji and Kiyomori when they get back?"

He nodded, one hand finding Reiko's and the other Taikyuu's, and Kel went to Jonathan and Thayet, speaking just loudly enough for the other Tortallans to hear.

"Give the imperials a moment, then follow them up to be introduced by the Emperor as his guests, sire? And present your own gifts?"

"If you say so, Keladry. All of us?"

"Oh yes. And order of precedence, though Dom and Tobe will have to stand in for me, while I marshall Geraint and some others."

Jonathan just shook his head, but Thayet laid a hand on her arm, gripping tightly for a moment, and Alanna clapped her shoulder softly, muttering.

"The Goddess let me understand Yamani and that was superbly done, Kel, when you must want to crown him."

Kel swallowed a laugh. "That's in there, I admit, but all's well." She put her own hand on Shinko's shoulder, not liking the awe in her friend's eyes. "And not so solemn, Cricket, please. He's painted you smiling, so you better had. And he'll be glad to meet you and Roald properly, you know."

At least it gave Shinko something else to worry about, and Roald nodded, squaring his shoulders despite the wonder in his own eyes. Her parents were also bearing up, though her Papa's clasp on her hands was hard, his expression unreadable. Yuki was also doing better, and gave Kel a quick, very welcome hug.

"Neal's theory was right, you know, Keladry-chan." "Another wonder of the day, Yuki."

But she gave Neal a hug too, seeing the rich amusement in his green eyes as well as more complicated emotions, and passed to Dom's fiercer though equally wordless embrace until she heard Tobe's whisper.

"I shouldn't be giving the pickles, Ma. It was your idea."

"He'll know that, Tobe, and I have to get Geraint. Protocol's in ruins, anyway." He followed her glance upwards to see the Emperor kneel and receive Sakuyo's kiss before being raised to his feet again. Easel and canvas remained, but paint pots and brushes had disappeared. "Just muddle through, eh? You'll like yourself in the picture, I think. And Kit's very fine."

He still didn't think it was right, but nodded reluctantly, and she left them to cross to Geraint and the immortals, seeing from the corner of her eye Empress and Princes receive their own divine kisses of welcome.

"Lady Kel?"

"Once gifts have been given, Geraint — the kamunushi and I will be last — get yourself and your team up on to the right-hand block, please. He'll want to thank you all for such a marvellous job, and you deserve to see the last bit of décor as it goes up."

"He will?"

"Surely. Proper courtesy, brisk return thanks to him for the practical dreams, and to Lord Gainel I imagine, and pleased laughter at his jest. Oh, and thank him on the Guild's behalf too, if you will. I've got too many hats on and we need to know if we owe him anything for his help."

"Right you are, Lady Kel." Geraint shook his head. "My poor parents will never believe it. Oh well. Manian'aan, will you …"

Kel left him to it, thinking what a relief it was when people just got on with what was needed and wondering darkly what Tortall would make of this tale, not that there was anything she could do about it. Jonathan and Thayet were presenting gifts, and introducing Roald and Shinko, her face radiant, but there was still no sign of Revered Eiji, and Kel headed deeper into the crowd, grateful that attentions were still riveted on the god. She stopped beside worn Sakuyan robes, obviously cleaned and pressed for the occasion but standing out among the ranks of finery and bright new cloth.

"Katashi-san."

The old kamunushi started and looked at her, other heads turning as they heard her. "Blessed! Forgive me, I was lost in his presence."

He would have bowed but she forestalled him with a hand on his arm.

"And rightly, Reverence. You came on pilgrimage to the dedication? Bringing a gift?"

"I did, Blessed, but only a poor carving of my own."

"Yet I rode here in comfort, Reverence, while you walked, bearing your own burden. Nor did I carve, but only commission. Yours is the greater honour, surely. In any case, come, let me take you to the High One you have served so faithfully."

"Me, Blessed?"

"Yes, you, Reverence. Amid all this beauty and grace, would you not be a cat rather than a pigeon, for once? The First Temple in Heian-Kyó is purged, and Edo prospering, but one from the country would be a good addition, don't you think? And you might find your return journey rather cheaper."

As she spoke the shrewd look she remembered returned to his eyes, and was joined by a wry smile.

"Undoubtedly, Blessed." No innkeeper would dream of charging him with this story to tell. "But I would not presume — "

"You're not, Reverence. I am. And as I've just been told by unimpeachable authority that I should do so far more …"

That got a real smile. "Most memorably so, Blessed. But I do not think I know very much about being a cat."

"Learn on the job, Reverence, as I have had to. Come, I see Revered Eiji and Lord Kiyomori returning."

Tobe was just presenting the pickle-case to a beaming Sakuyo, a nervy Neal and Yuki behind him being drawn in by a determined explanation that the pickles were down to Yuki and the petrified case and pots to her and St'aara. Geraint and the basilisks and ogres were gathered at the foot of the right-hand steps, and she took Katashi-san towards the left ones slowly enough to let Revered Eiji and Lord Kiyomori catch them up, each bearing a dedication gift. Kiyomori's face was expressionless, but Eiji inclined his head to Katashi and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Honoured Katashi-san, who has served the High One faithfully all his life, and is sensible besides. He represents rural Yaman, beyond old and new cities. More must wait."

She heard Eiji mutter a genuine welcome to the old man as they climbed the steps, and again

blessed his quick wit. Lord Sakuyo was still speaking to a charmed Yuki, but looked up. "There you are again, Keladry-chan, at last. Still more gifts?" "Three, my lord, but it isn't for me to present your own kamunushi." Stars twinkled. "I doubt they'd mind just now. But on we go."

Lord Kiyomori didn't wait to kneel, offering up the traditional scroll of praises, no doubt exquisitely calligraphed, and received brief thanks, a hand laid in blessing on his head, and a scold Kel thought quite mild, all things considered.

"I know you tried, my son, but if deference to a superior was proper a Second should yet correct a First when the First errs so grievously. You would do well to choose your own Second with that in mind."

He could only wince, and bow his head, promising amendment. Sakuyo nodded and turned. As Kel expected, Revered Eiji's thanks were rather fuller and his blessing warmer, spiced with lively appreciation of Edoans' willingness to try something new, however gaijin and against received tradition ; but she found herself distracted by her parents' expressions, hovering between dazed happiness and serene elation. Her attention snapped back as Sakuyo turned, but Kitashi-san needed no introduction. He was also prevented from kneeling by a long-fingered hand and briefly embraced — a lesson not lost on any Yamani, from the Emperor down.

"No need for that, my son. I know how old knees feel, and you have walked far and fast as well as worrying needlessly. Your service has ever been true, and will not be forgotten. Nor is your carving anything but acceptable, as Keladry-chan knew. Truly, it means more to me than many gifts their givers would think greater, and while most of these are properly for my fine new temple here, yours will grace my dwelling in the Divine Realms." He looked up, winking at her as the old man's face became suffused with a helpless pleasure that Kel found more moving than almost anything else. "As will Yuki-chan's most wonderful pickles. For once I will be able to invite Weiryn and Sarra to dine without apologising for my poor culinary skills."

She swallowed emotion. "A likely tale, my lord. But do please convey my warmest respects to them."

"Oh they are well pleased with you, Keladry-chan. Sarra is delighted to think she will have a shrine here, and Weiryn most taken with your care of his hounds. But come with me now while I thank Geraint-sensei and these so talented immortals for my marvellous temple."

Dressed as she was Kel would have used the steps to go round, but he took her hand and she found herself floated effortlessly across the gap to the other block. His exchanges with basilisks and ogres were interesting, she thought in a detached way, without the old constraints that came between gods and dragons and with a genuine, mutual curiosity about the pleasure all had taken in pioneering work. Geraint he sent quite pink with embarrassment, and shook off any question of his own share in the design.

"No, no, sensei. The mathematics merely allowed me to describe for you the pattern I could imagine, and I could imagine it only because you and these clever immortals conceived what was jointly possible. It is Keladry-chan all over to think I have a claim, but quite needless. And I must hope you have no objections to my addition now to your design."

"How could I, my lord? But will the painting and your image in light not clash?" "Not if I've got it right, sensei, which I have, of course. Watch now."

Silver flared, the easel vanished, and the oddly curved painting floated slowly towards the further wall, enlarging as it went. Colours rippled as they caught the shafts of light, and as it reached full size, fixing itself exactly to the curved stone, many voices cried out, Kel's among them, for the two were utterly in harmony. The mouth of light fell on the imperials and her laughing beside them ; the eyes of light fell on the blocks of stone, so the distorted face of Lord Hidetaki and the smiling god who stood behind him made one seem to wink ; and the illuminated lines of forehead and hair trailed over the inset image of her and the Hunt, connecting the hounds still pouring down from the air to her astride Lord Arawn, and again lighting the imperials and their Tortallan guests. And it was, like the god himself, at once clear and dizzying, the face in light strengthened by the colours it picked out, and the construction of the painting emphasised by what was lit and what left shadowed — but together they were too overwhelming to take in, her eyes flickering between one perception and the other as the whole and its rich parts each demanded attention. A hand rested lightly on her shoulder and she knew the voice was private, for her alone.

"Use the net, beloved daughter, and let yourself see both at once."

She had to concentrate counterproductively for a moment to see how the net might be used for this, but then let the double vision pass through her, not fighting it in foolish attempts to hold both. The calm of her lake deepened to the stillness of windless winter dawn, and a part of her knew with utter clarity that this was her own hard-won power, not Sakuyo's loan but only his teaching ; a gift, like all good teaching, of oneself, with no payment due. There was still the busy, funny picture, and there was still the god in light, but there was also a third image, picked out both by light and splashes of unilluminated but bright colour, for the images of herself and Sakuyo, with Hidetaki's contorted face, Tobe, Dom, Kit, and the curve of Diamondflame's tail, outlined a third kanji, not jest or tranquility but a simple version of kenkouji, a healthy child.

"Ah, you see it. It is what we — I with your help, and you with mine — have been able to offer to the Timeway, as its pattern for the next great spiral. Shakith and Gainel have helped, and the Goddess, but it is you and I who have delivered." For one flashing second she thought thunder cracked somewhere, though there were no echoes. "Tell me now, Keladry-chan, was this not worth it all?"

"Every blessed minute, of course." Lost in wonder, she heard herself speaking in the familiar mode. "It's too gorgeous for words. And kind, but I always knew you were. Does Kitten see it?"

"Diamondflame will show her. He did so even as he watched me paint, and adjusted his tail to ease my task. And I had to thank him for so very graciously giving Daichi an enormous boost. You are most wonderfully even-handed for my favourite daughter."

"Dragons are good for you." Intuition cracked. "And there's more, isn't there? New Hope was always about the young. I remember Diamondflame asking Kawit how her eyes saw it — youngest dragon, basilisk, and stormwing, eldest dragons, stormwing, and spidren. Tobe and Irnai, too. And me. The Timeway's rebuke was about the young, and this is the gods' answer. One of them, anyway."

The light hand squeezed. "Just so. I told Mithros you'd get it on your own, so he'll owe me."

She felt only amusement at gods betting on her — she'd realised they did that long ago — but knew one thing she wanted with blazing certainty, despite its costs. "Please do one thing for me, my lord? Just for a moment, let some other people see — Dom and Tobe, and my poor Mama and Papa, and Alanna. More if you can manage it."

"Of course I can, daughter. But your trouble with Shinkokami will not be helped. Even Neal's perceptive theory troubles her, you know. She was very well brought up."

Kel couldn't doubt it, though she mourned it. "I trust your judgement, my lord. As many as can bear it, then. We mortals need to know suffering was worthwhile sooner than you gods allow."

"Truth, Keladry-chan. But this is true also, that we gods need to push you mortals harder than you can quite bear. And to see through the dazzle will be will be painful for most mortal minds."

Kel nodded. "Even so, my lord." She faced her own truth. "Growing always hurts. And this should be known by more than one mortal." She shrugged lightly, feeling his hand tighten again. "Why it was me in the first place, I'll never understand. But here I am. Dom and Tobe at least have a right to understand it all."

"Do they, daughter?"

"Oh yes. They have to put up with us both." He grinned. "And you haven't laughed yet, you know. Not properly. You'll need lots of Yamani blesseds for all this."

"So I will. And you aren't wrong, Keladry-chan, only so very blunt about it all. Just don't tell me I didn't warn you. Eitaro and Reiko will understand, and Daichi, but your Jonathan will have a headache for days."

Kel thought about that, briefly, remembering that she would be on a boat with Jonathan for most of those days — a small, finite boat at that.

"Thayet, then, and Roald. They can tell him about it." "Pragmatist."

His voice was mock-disapproving, and Kel stared into his starry eyes, feeling laughter rise. Silver and thunder cracked together, encompassing time, and she was aware of startled visions of the third kanji rippling across minds, even of Tobe blurting its meaning to Dom, and of Thayet's hand clenching around her husband's. Then the shaking took her, joining Sakuyo's impossible thunder, laughter echoing from the roof and the sky beyond ; and it spread, Kitashi-san and Revered Eijo giving in to the tide of merriment as imperials did, and Tortallans, and Yamanis in a great wave, and even lesser immortals, basilisks hissing laughter amid ogres' booming. Sakuyo himself was gone, as quietly as he had come, thunder fading, but the whooping, unstoppable laughter, passing through humour and pain to somewhere beyond both, did not stop until streaming eyes and nose made her breath uneven and laboured, as well as messy. Shuddering into steadiness, she groped for a handkerchief, finding only one left, and mopped her eyes, seeing dazed and breathless exhaustion around her, and almost choking at the thought that even she could never have carried enough handkerchieves for this.

Thunder boomed again and faded, and the air filled, not with blossom but with neat squares of white cotton, one falling precisely into her open hand, showing an entwined monogram of Sakuyo and Protector. Renewed laughter threatened, but a body could only take so much, and she composed herself, finding her lake still wintery, as unmoving as ice.

"Thank you, my lord. And so very well pressed. Here." She gave the handkerchief to Geraint in time to grab another from the air. "You need this, sensei."

One thing New Hope and Dom had both taught Kel was that exhilaration and exhaustion went together, and she wasn't remotely surprised when the somewhat stumbling but wholehearted festivities of the rest of that long day soon ran themselves ragged and broke up into small knots of people who already knew one another. It was easier that way.

The imperials congregated, and the royals with Alanna, though Roald and Shinko eventually drew them together. Neal and Yuki were with her brother and parents. Revered Eiji, sensible even in a state of dazed elation, had given her one deep bow and simple, sincere thanks, before gathering his kamunushi and some local lords. Other Edoans clustered, coming to grips with what had passed in their new temple, and so did visiting courtiers and kamunushi. Even Diamondflame and Kitten were talking to Haarist'aaniar'aan and Queen Barzha, sated and soft-voiced, Hebakh at her side. Geraint might have been odd man out, but he was with his team of ogres and basilisks, while Kitashi-san had decided after a long, still moment that his true duty lay with the prostrate Lord Hidetaki, a choice Kel honoured while reminding him to laugh about it all too.

After removing her face-paint with relief, she wound up with Dom, Tobe, the sleeping twins, and her parents in one of the Imperial Residence's many smaller tea-rooms, and before anyone could object politely commandeered a hovering, gawping servant, thanked him for the tea-set he brought at a run, and set about the ceremonial. It was second nature to her parents, and entirely familiar by now to Dom and Tobe, and she drew in and projected the calm she truly felt, her lake winter-still and fathoms upon fathoms deep. When everyone held a steaming, fragrant cup she filled her own, and sank into a cushion with a sigh, thinking herself back into Tortallan.

"It's too rude, I know, but refills are self-service. I may not move again for a week." It was Tobe, bless him, who asked for them all.

"What happened at the end, Ma? The third kanji was 'child', wasn't it? And something very good, but I couldn't get what exactly."

"There isn't an exactly, Tobe, just a divine promise, for whatever it's worth. Kenkouji is a healthy child, a blessing. Sakuyo said we offered it together to the Timeway, as something like a god's prayer, I think." She drank tea, savouring delicate taste. "Another joke, another day. Maybe. I'm sorry for any pain the understanding caused, but I couldn't bear you all not knowing."

Her father blinked. "You had a choice, my dear?"

"Not exactly, Papa. Sakuyo showed — no, he didn't, he let me know I could see it if I would, so I did. And I asked him to share it, because I knew I could never explain."

"And what was it we had to know?"

"That it was all truly worth something, Papa. A better chance for children." Truth pressed. "What it was the gods have used you and Mama so mercilessly to help create, over all these years, beyond a good joke on Tortall and Yaman, and New Hope. A bigger hope yet." She drank, considering. "It was all so absurd and unbelievable already, but I always knew something was still incomplete. Like Jonathan waving his arms about to invoke a fief that's ridiculously large and me thinking it wasn't enough because there wasn't a bridge where there had to be one. And somewhere deep in the Timeway that kanji means the same as Drachifethe, I think — the love and hope of children." Her hand stroked the twins' hair softly. "The things that can never be worthless, however bad you feel yourself. And can never be taken for granted, however good you feel."

Everyone busied themselves drinking tea, but Dom's hand found her free one, squeezing gently, and a narrow-eyed Tobe, scrutinising her, shrugged.

"Well, thank you then, Ma, although it hurt. Again. Does growing have to hurt like this?"

"I think so, Tobe. It makes us take notice, and care." She leaned back into her cushions, and Dom. "Too many patterns for anyone mortal, gods know, but what you saw, or sensed, was the one they

added up to."

"The doukegata's theme, revealed at the end?"

She smiled, too tired to laugh any more. "If you like, Papa. You were right to think I had a freer hand than I could quite believe. I still can't, really. Honestly. Yaman's a knotty problem. Yes, isn't it? Let's drop Keladry in there. She'll fix it. It's absurd."

"Except you did fix it, sweeting. Wonderfully and terribly and words I don't have. You-ishly." Ilane laughed, wincing. "Oh my poor ribs. Funny and terrible together is a hard combination. And so much compassion. I don't think I'll ever forget poor Lord Hidetaki's face, but I won't forget you arguing with Lord Sakuyo for his release and pardon, either. That wasn't absurd."

"Wasn't it, Mama? I was thinking we'd need the space, or someone might have knocked him off the block altogether."

Tobe snorted. "He was absurd, grandma."

"Oh he was, wasn't he, Tobe? So sincerely idiotic. But your Ma wasn't, nor her pain and compassion, whatever she says. Rebuking Lord Sakuyo! And that awful sound Hidetaki made, and giving him a hankie. Oh. Oh. I still don't know whether to laugh or cry."

"And isn't that absurd?" Kel's voice was very dry. "I mean it the way the gods' irony is absurd, Mama, to mortal minds, anyway. They just seem to find it funny. May I ask what he said to you both when you met? You were looking a bit dazed by something."

"By almost everything, my dear. Do you not realise what will truly resonate from today, besides the shattering lesson embodied in that painting? We've heard you say some startling things about the gods, and we've seen you deal with them, some of them, as, well, a hostess, I suppose. But I hadn't really understood, though Domitan and Tobeis tried to explain. Today, though, everyone saw and heard you, my dear, mortal honour and respect for the High One as clear as light, but speaking as to close kin. You were in mortal to divine throughout, not an inflection missing, but I've never heard any of the high modes used so freely. No Yamani could have done that. And he used parent-to-grown-child just as freely. You didn't only argue with him, my dear, and come very close to calling him … well, I don't know what it might have been, but it wouldn't have been polite. You were bantering with him, and he adored you for it. To say you've redefined piety would be too strong, but you've given us all a new model for it."

Kel shook her head. "He has, Papa. He could have kept our conversation private if he wanted, but he didn't, and if he wanted it all heard, plain speaking had to be best. I don't know about bantering, but half the problem at least was everyone forgetting he's a jester, which really is absurd. And as for calling him names, His Nibs is the least of it, and he likes that. Yaman's wonderful, but it needs to loosen up a bit."

"So it does, my dear. And you've done more to help it do so in the last ten days than anyone would have believed possible. Much as with the Council, come to think of it."

"Pfui. You still haven't told me what Sakuyo said to you." "He shared our pride, sweeting, and our bafflement."

Screaming was too much effort, and Kel's curiosity was diverted by Prince Eitaro, apologising fulsomely for interrupting them. Hauling herself up and waving apologies away, she made fresh tea and, once seated again, gave him an enquiring look which he returned with a wry smile.

"I will not try to burden you with inadequate words, Keladry-chan, though Daichi wished me to

convey his very many, most sincere thanks and deep wonder. And to tell you that as Jonathan has invited him to visit Tortall as soon as circumstances here allow, he intends to make a pilgrimage to New Hope."

Kel flapped a hand. "He's entirely welcome, my Prince, and a year or three will be enough for all to draw breath."

"Indeed. Though we really must have your own account of all that happened today before you leave. I'll send a scribe. But there is one thing about which we would ask your advice now, if we may — the three paintings. Do you know what should be done with them? Clearly they must be properly displayed, but here? Or in Heian-Kyó?"

Kel pondered briefly. "I don't think it much matters, my Prince. Unless you want them in Heian-Kyó as an anchor against the new pull of Edo and the east."

Her Papa gave her a sharp glance and looked thoughtful, but Eitaro gave a small nod.

"That is one thought, yes. But Daichi thinks that shift is not to be resisted. It was after all what the western Fujiwaras were fighting against, when all is said and done."

"His business, my Prince." Kel shrugged slightly. "Move the paintings about, for all I care. I don't see they have to stay in one place, so long as they're together." An image came, and she tested it before smiling. "But they won't grow now — it would be labouring the joke — so I'll tell you what kind of building they should be in, wherever they are — a small freestanding pagoda, very austere in its lines but with all three rooves, one for each painting." Her Mama put a hand to her mouth, eyes lighting, and Eitaro managed not to snort. "Put one on each wall, and on the fourth the text of the 'Note' — framed pages will be fine if you unbind one of the good copies, and whatever space you need for that will give you the dimensions. Nothing bigger. Anyone should be able to enter for free, but they have to read the 'Note', and it costs them a haiku to get out again. Call it Lord Sakuyo's Joke, Gaijin Style."

Eitaro looked at her for a long minute, before putting a hand over his heart and bowing. "It will be our pleasure to do so, Keladry-chan."


	43. Chapter 43

Epilogue : The Pilgrims' Way

Epilogue : The Pilgrims' Way

Mindelan & New Hope, June 466 HE

Imperial affairs were a slow business, and though letters from the Empress, Keiichi, and Patricine had variously assured Kel that peaceful reduction of former Fujiwara lands was proceeding very satisfactorily, informed her of the marvels the Guild branch was beginning to make commonplace, and spoken delightedly of the shops and businesses founded by the first batch of Empress's Maids, there had been no thought of the promised visit for more than eighteen months. And that had been fine by her, having had quite enough to do on her own account, what with Geraint's commissions for Temples of Sakuyo in Corus and at Queenscove, the College of Weapons attached to the Palace, Lord Arawn's promised visit, and her unexpected Gallan adventure with its aftermath, as well as all the regular and irregular business of a burgeoning and prospering fief the size of a small country. Besides, it wasn't as if what felt like half of Yaman hadn't already turned up at New Hope.

The pilgrim stream she'd anticipated was more like a flood, and the commissioned Guild-built wayhouses punctuating the new road from Mindelan, leased to those who ran them, had necessarily acquired simple but extensive dormitories and larger kitchens than first envisaged, as well as guard barracks. It was, she often thought, fortunate that austerity was piously appropriate, and to Yamanis aesthetic, for it had been very necessary. But a great deal of rice as well as pickles now flowed through Mindelan port, heading inland with shoals of fish, and even with only a small profit on each meal and night's accommodation, she and her Papa each had another sizeable group of prospering liegers and useful income to plough back into the contiguous fiefs.

And then there were the guards, samurai, spidren, ogre, Tortallan, Scanran, and canine. If there was a bandit gang stupid enough to try anything within a hundred miles of the Pilgrims' Way she'd be interested to meet them, but physical security was the least of it. Squads of the oversize Fourth Company of the King's Own were paired with samurai-and-spidren squads, all charged with improving as well as defending the Way and its users, and rotated patrol sections on a schedule that took them along its full length in a year. Samurai found it odd to be expected to help with a stuck cart, but not to labour on a sacred roadway ; the Own had quite the opposite reaction, and both learned, while obligatory training and sparring practice led to much thoughtfulness all round. Well and good. The troop of fighting ogres — who had recognised that wars would be in short supply for a while, concluded it would be a good time to see to such things as having children, and decided New Hope was clearly the place to do so — were alternating time on the Way and at New Hope itself, learning Uinse's and Brodhelm's routines. And if it only made sense for her to have a proper Scanran Clanchief's guard, as Ragnar had earnestly insisted, their size and fearsome speed with their axes made them not only impressive but useful sparring partners for everyone, even the ogres. Well and better. What Kel had not foreseen was that Wuodan and the Hunt would without being asked extend their protection to the Way, deeming it a spur of the Great North Road — or so he had told her, tongue lolling but in his cheek just the same. She suspected it had more to do with their being bored while Lord Weiryn was restricted to his own lands, and hadn't argued, but the tendency of such very large hounds to turn up at wayhouse mealtimes, and observe weapons training with occasional commentary, was keeping things lively, to say the least ; even if they did have to put out the flames in their eyes when they were wheedling cooks and making ironic observations to soldiers.

Owen had of course come to see as soon as he'd heard about it, bringing an only half-reluctant Wyldon with him. Their route from Cavall had joined the Way, and they'd arrived amid the

evening tide of Yamani pilgrims, hats bobbing and heads swivelling as guards politely but firmly directed them off the road south of the fin. More dormitories had been built along it, between base and the outlet sough of the corral moat, and there were instructions in clear if sometimes oddly accented Yamani to settle in, eat, clear their minds of travel and distractions, and not present themselves at the Honesty Gate until dawn, when they might do so in orderly fashion. Wuodan's presence, loping beside Wyldon and greeting Jump with a friendly whuff, hadn't helped, nor her own as she was identified, though natural Yamani politeness had kicked in once they'd seen she was greeting personal guests. It didn't stop the stares, though, and when they'd made it over the stone bridge, and the towering bulk of the fin cut off the buzz of voices, she'd given Wyldon a wry look.

"Sorry about all that. They get a bit excited, not unnaturally, and those rules keep things manageable."

"So Wuodan has been explaining, Keladry. You've put an excellent system in place in very little time."

"Needs must, or we'd be swamped."

"I imagine, though I didn't mean only here. The whole Pilgrims' Way is running smoothly, and the guard arrangements are very sharp, as well as, ah, colourful. Not that I'd expect anything else from you."

"It's mostly just logistics and some common sense, Wyldon, as you know perfectly well." She grinned. "And ridiculous overkill, of course — I shouldn't think there's a bandit within a hundred leagues, by now." Owen nodded his approval. "But with mortals, spidrens, and ogres available pretty much everywhere, most of the time someone who can fix any problem is there swiftly."

Wyldon nodded. "So we saw. And the way they all train and cross-train, morning and evening — also impressive."

"Mmm. Are you going to accept the King's request to join the College of Weapons?"

"Yes, but only as a corresponding member. It's another very good idea of yours, but I want time at Cavall. I will write a treatise of lance-work for them, though. Goldenlake's promised to comment, and I'd be glad if you would too, once I've anything worth commenting on."

"Gladly. They landed me with glaives, of course, including from horseback. There isn't much common ground, except fighting in a mêlée with a broken lance, I suppose. And some legwork, actually, come to think of it."

"You've practiced with a broken lance?"

"Once or twice. Are you telling me you haven't?"

The discussion had carried them all cheerfully to dinner, but Wuodan had reappeared with the fruit and cheese, also from the direction of the kitchens, and commandeered the rest of the evening by telling Wyldon (of whom he clearly approved) and everyone else in the messhall (a rapidly rising number as word spread) the tale of his first Yamani Hunt. It had been fascinating to hear a hound's-eye view — and his eyes saw other than hers, as well as working very closely with his nose — but also thoroughly embarrassing, given his strong approval of her tactics and sharp interest in hunting with stormwings and dragons, not to mention a decidedly earthy turn of phrase. Ebony and Button had decided to contribute illustrations, and the laughter when Jadewing had tail-skittled the Fujiwara compound's samurai guards produced a wheezing toast to her from Uinse with a cheery wave of applause.

But Wuodan's notion of the Hunt extended to the kill, and though Dom had given her a long look she hadn't felt able to ask hound or darkings to conceal anything that had happened. So the tale had wound on to the Sekkinukesaku , and the messhall had grown very quiet indeed ; there was a surprise, too, for Wuodan had been back to Heian-Kyó to see what had become known as the Well of Fools, and could convey what he'd seen to the darkings, as Rainbow had. His gaze had been unflinching as he'd padded past saluting samurai guards, down a spiral ramp to a viewing stone before the complex tableau of petrified people.

Tobeis named them truly, he'd concluded. Only chance and the Protector's need made them lawful prey, but the Hunt was righteous, her judgement swift, sure, and stringent. And like the Skullroad, they now serve to deter further offence, which is our purpose. All in all, a most satisfying occasion, and we would be glad to Hunt with you again, Protector, should need arise.

The toast after that had been from Fanche, laconic and well-judged to ease the sombre mood. "Still proving worth your feed, Lady Kel, even when you're not here."

New Hopers had risen and bowed or curtseyed before they'd drunk, and when she'd wound up with Wyldon in her and Dom's private sitting-room, the now dangerously mobile twins bathed and asleep, and Owen sidetracked to the stables by Tobe and Jump with a rhapsody on Lord Arawn, his eyes on her had been dark.

"How much harm did you take amid all that amazement, Keladry?"

"Nothing thirty -six hours' unmoving sleep didn't put right, Wyldon. And none of the Sekkinukesaku are much trouble to my conscience, even Lady Noriko, though once it might have been enough for someone to give her a slap and a shake. Agreeing to kill Kit doesn't leave any excuses available, in my book. Lord Hidetaki, though … do you know about him?"

"Oh yes. I spent an evening in Corus with Their Majesties when we discussed the College." "Did Thayet and Roald make better sense than Jonathan and Shinko?" "Oddly, yes, again. You look sad."

"I am, Wyldon. Cricket has a bad case of pious awe, which is painful in a friend. And" — her heart had lightened — "Lord Sakuyo said Jonathan would have a headache for weeks if he was shown the third kanji. I decided I'd rather not spend a week on a boat with him in that kind of mood, so he didn't get to see it himself. Do you disapprove?"

"I'm not sure I'd dare." His voice had been solemn, his look bone dry, and she'd laughed, waving a hand. "But no, I don't. It sounds perfectly sensible. His Majesty has always needed some managing. And I think I understand what Her Majesty and Prince Roald said, though I can't picture all the artwork they talked about."

In for a groat, in for a bushel, Kel had supposed, and while the darkings showed him, she drew the three kanji cleanly on a sheet of paper, and showed him how they fell in light and colour.

"Ah. Yes. Astonishing. And an amazing building. I'd like to see that with my own eyes." He had been genuinely moved, but he was still Wyldon. "But what of Lord Hidetaki? A warrior who mis-stepped as badly as he did might properly expect to die. Or any royal servant — if he hadn't crossed into open treason he was within a hair's breadth of it, and had clearly been suborned in some measure, if only by playing to his innate prejudices. I'd say he got off lightly, all things considered. Nor was it you who punished him, Keladry, either time. Quite the opposite, in fact — you offered him a depth of grace everyone found humbling, if Her Majesty had it right."

"I know all that in my head. But you didn't hear the sound he made. I don't think I've ever heard more desolation in a man's voice." Then she'd added another niggling truth. "He was old and sincere, for all he was being an idiot. I shouldn't have been so much wiser than him, but I was. He was in the way, struggling, and I set him aside, as one would a child. It was needful, and I don't doubt that, but he haunts me as the Sekkinukesaku don't."

"Ah. Yes, sound can haunt." He had been silent for a while, and her hand had found Dom's. "I may be quite wrong, and presumptuous — it would hardly be the first time — but I wonder if it isn't he who haunts you, but another sincere old idiot you had to set aside, if not quite as one would a child."

She'd been horrified, stopped only by his swiftly upraised hand. "Gods, Wyldon, I didn't mean anything like — "

"No, I know you didn't, Keladry. Nor even think it. You wouldn't. But perhaps you should. Please." He'd insisted on pouring glasses of wine. "I know you're usually abstemious, as I am, but there are times, and this is one. Which doesn't make saying this any easier, but we both know I did you great wrong before I did better, and you forgave me for it. I thank the gods for that, you know, every day. But I also recognise that the rage you can wield so devastatingly has many sources, and I am — or at any rate, the things I did are — among them, rightfully. Hear me out, please. I also know I'm far from the only old male idiot you have cause to pop from his saddle with every satisfaction, though by this stage we must be like a row of sitting ducks, so I wonder if what you feel isn't like my sick feeling when I routinely unhorse some young pup and he falls badly?"

She'd found herself leaking silent tears as she nodded. "Yes, that's it. Hidetaki was like a rabbit that runs the wrong way, right into a hound's jaws. He would have preferred death to that degree of mortification, but there's no undoing it. I almost wish the Emperor hadn't forbidden him to commit seppuku, even though I know the dead can't help."

"Mmm. That's compassion, though, not command, as your tears attest. A living example may be needed. I wonder … If I went to see that painting, to gratify my own curiosity as well as giving my wife and daughter a trip they've been speculating about, loudly, would you like me to seek an interview? We might be of some use to one another, I think."

She'd been speechless for a moment at the wonder of it. "Would you? But Wyldon, do you really mean to visit Yaman? You mustn't go just on my account."

"No, no, Keladry. I was as wrong about the Yamanis as I was about you. Their weapons are very fine, and their horses. They have some wardogs I want to investigate, too. Nor was I joking about my family wanting to go — they were very taken with the delegation that came to your wedding, and the way you look in kimonos." She'd stared and he'd smiled. "Truly. They say they're becoming fashionable, and who am I to argue? I might have come with you all, but Naxen asked me to stay, so a trip is overdue, really."

She hadn't seen Wyldon since his return, but had had a very long letter, mostly detailing visits to the Temple of Weapons (with some interesting conversations there), the Emperor's stud, some army kennels, and Edo, as well as saying how gracious Their Imperial Majesties had been in welcoming them, but including an account of an afternoon with Lord Hidetaki discussing the value of lessons from the young. The old kamunushi had (he hoped) found it helpful ; practical as ever, Wyldon had also thought meditating in isolation overdone, and suggested to Patricine the Guild might draw Hidetaki into consultation about using its new techniques for traditional structures. Kel had known from her surprised but approving sister that that had already happened, but not a detail Wyldon drily remarked, that Yamanis unfailingly referred to the old man as Blessed Hidetaki, apparently without the least irony.

"As well they might, love," had been Dom's only comment, but she had felt a weight ease in her heart. And perhaps that unlikely rehabilitation had been a sign of sorts, for not long afterwards the Emperor had decided things were stable enough to allow his visit to Tortall, and a flood of imperial communication had joined the flood of pilgrims. Quite how logistics and protocol could intertwine and multiply never failed to amaze her, but the net result was that he would come in the first place on private pilgrimage to New Hope and Drachifethe, before heading to Corus in state ; and the pleasing consequence was that while she was present at Mindelan when he arrived, with the Yamani ambassador and his wife, she only had to stand there while her parents welcomed him.

The harbour was bright and busy in the June sun, evidence of burgeoning Yamani and Guild trade visible everywhere, including a new temple of Sakuyo, a small but beautiful dome surrounded by a sward of hardy dunegrass between two new warehouses. As Kel had hoped, Mindelan had become a major source of petrified webbing, serving nautical demand as well as the army, and spidrens and basilisks as well as many of her father's liegers and a thick wedge of resident Yamani merchants and factors looked on with interested anticipation as the imperial warship was warped in to the quay. Its lines weren't much different from those of the Tortallan navy ships, but the dragon-head carving at the prow and the bright colours of kimonos were eye-catching, not least because the Empress had also come, with Prince Taikyuu, so the imperial retinue was larger than it might have been. There was also Haarist'aaniar'aan, who had been sufficiently taken with Yaman, and what his younger kin were doing with the Guild, to have decided he ought to have a more thorough look at the mortal realms ; the Emperor had rather cleverly recruited him, after a fashion, by offering freedom to go where he would, an escort, and a supply of rock delicacies in return for an evening of imperial conversation once a month, helping inform new understandings of immortals and gods. He would now be staying at New Hope for a while, and touring Tortall. Beside her, Inness whistled softly.

"That is one big basilisk. You did say, Kel, but seeing is something else. Is it like spidrens, growing as they age?"

"I think so. It's just that most of the ones who moved to the mortal realms were of an age, give or take the odd century, so we don't really see. But Tkaa is an inch or two taller than Var'istaan, I've noticed, and he's a bit taller than some at New Hope."

"Interesting. Run me through who they all are?"

She didn't know every face, but pointed out Keiichi, Takemahou-sensei, Hayato-sensei and some others, noticing the absence of Lord Kiyomori and the presence in a Second Kamunushi's robes of Revered Eiji. Or presumably now Lord Eiji, though Blessed would cover it, either way. Explanation to Inness was curtailed as the gangplank was secured and greetings began, with the imperials strikingly informal, and revealing much improved if still accented Tortallan. Neither her Papa nor Anders had said anything when she and Tobe had assumed order of age, putting themselves after Inness, but when the Emperor and Empress came to her he offered a short bow and quirked an eyebrow when she returned it with a deeper one.

"Still so modest, Keladry-chan?"

"As noble subjects should be, Daichi-shushou."

It was the way Yamanis had begun to refer to him, acknowledging a new affection and declaring a great reign, the old imperial title never having been used as an honorific before, and he gave a barking laugh.

"I have been waiting for someone to say that to my face. I should have known."

"Then I should be Reiko-kisai, I suppose." The Empress took Kel's hands, eyes warm in her white face. "You are well, Blessed Keladry-chan?"

"Never better, thank you, my Empress. Dom's minding New Hope and the twins, as well as Their Majesties. Which is the greater burden I'm not sure. But Tobe though Prince Taikyuu might like some company."

"So he would, and has a gift we must talk to you about, when we can." "Indeed."

The Emperor had a glint in his eye Kel regarded with suspicion, but it had to wait as Jump demanded his own introduction, and a now elderly Nari landed on her shoulder, peeping interest ; then the ambassador and his wife were greeted with rather more formality but also warm praise that had them relaxing. Kel gave her own welcomes to Patricine, Toshuro, and her nephew and nieces, and gathered from her parents that an imperially chartered merchantman was due as well as the warship, but still some hours out as it was less handy in the fitful wind. She also discovered from Eiji that he was indeed a Lord, but had declined to leave Edo altogether, so Lord Kiyomori was spending as much time with him there as in Heian-Kyó.

"We do not much like one another, Most Blessed, truth to tell, but unlike Blessed Hidetaki he did not need telling twice, and we rub along."

"Most Blessed?"

"Well, we had to do something, and His Imperial Majesty had already used it. Lots of people are Lord Sakuyo's Blessed these days, but you did rather more than hear him laugh." He gave her a look suspiciously filled with anticipation. "I've managed to forestall a formal shrine, but our dedication day services really can't avoid the example you set us, Most Blessed, and you will I'm afraid be hearing from a sculptor the Mayor of Edo has insisted on commissioning."

Kel took a deep breath and managed, just, not to roll her eyes. "So long as I don't have to look at the result, Eiji." She looked at the jade brooch he wore. "Did everyone get tokens of blessedness?"

"Oh yes. And by means no-one quite understands, it is accepted that those who also saw him wear them on the left" — he tapped his own — "while those who only heard his laughter from outside wear them on the right."

Kel stifled a snort. People were very odd. "Well, I'd be grateful if you dropped the 'Most' here, Eiji — my people really don't need to be given ideas."

He smiled. "I'll try. Perhaps more congenially, I can also say that while it will take a while to retire all those who saw politics as more important than piety, Kiyomori and I have begun, and are moving up men more of poor Hotaka's stamp. And he joins me in bringing you most heartfelt thanks for alerting us to More Blessed Kitashi-san, who has told his tale of cats and pigeons far and wide, and is doing much to bring other rural kamunushi up to his own high mark."

Kel didn't especially want to hear of her own fame, but was pleased to know the old man was enjoying himself, and unwillingly amused by the 'More Blessed'. Still, she was better pleased when Hayato-sensei joined them to talk of the interesting work the Temple of Weapons had been doing, not least with her nephew and nieces.

"They still grumble about muscle-burn, Most Blessed, but have worked very hard. Akemi-chan has some true promise, and as Lady noh Akaneru tells me she will be staying with you at New

Hope for a while now, I would ask that you undertake her instruction, if your duties allow." "Of course. She's written once or twice, but tell me what's needed?"

Learned discussion of moves and stances, with adjustments Akemi's developing curves and shifting balance were demanding, took them through the streets to the family residence. Kel had to return various greetings from people who remembered her as a child, and from merchants and shopkeepers she or the Guild dealt with, and felt the Yamanis watching with interest the combination of respect and ease.

Getting everyone to appropriate bedrooms left the residence feeling stuffed to the rafters, but in honour of the occasion Kel's Papa had installed a proper teahouse in one of the quietest corners of the garden, and late in the afternoon she found herself there. The three imperials were present, with Keiichi, and her family, but no-one else, though servants and guards lurked. Her Mama brewed tea, smiling at the beautiful petrified-wood set Kel had given her, complete with a spell-heated kettle, and Tobe helped her serve before taking a cushion at Kel's side, Jump thumping down at his feet and the sparrows distributing themselves on various willing shoulders. The visible flowers and branches weren't Yamani at all, and the contrast with the neat tatami matting and niches for the scrolls was striking. But the kanji on the scrolls were jest, tranquility, and healthy child, a decision at which Kel had rolled her eyes to no avail, and after the formalities Daichi-shushou nodded appreciation, staying in Yamani.

"This is very fine, Ilane-sama."

"I've always wanted a proper teahouse, my Emperor, but there's always been something more urgent to do, until now. So I'm delighted you honour us by inaugurating it."

"Ah. We're glad to be useful, then, especially when the results are so beautiful. And these wise sparrows are most charming. Did Keladry-chan not object to the choice of kanji, though?"

"Of course, but we took no notice. It isn't her teahouse. And she's done quite enough with the ones on the Pilgrims' Way by way of rebuke."

"Oh?"

Tobe grinned. "My favourite is the one by Stagdale, my Emperor, where the wagon livestock is bred. It looks over one of the pastures, and the kanji are mules, stubborn, and ridiculous."

"A subject worth much meditation." Kel kept her voice demure amid the laughter. "I've learned a great deal from mules."

"And they from you, I should think, my dear." Her father shook his head, smiling. "But one tribute you're going to have to accept gracefully."

"Yes, indeed. Keiichi-sensei?"

With a perfectly straight face Keiichi produced a simple scroll with a pale monochrome ribbon and the imperial seal. And he was serious, however amused, she realised, and knew what it must be.

"The haiku you are owed, Most Blessed Protector-sensei."

She took it with mixed feelings, wondering what Isao-sensei had come up with. Slipping the ribbon off, she unrolled it and found out.

Wet blossom teaches

wonderful humility.

He is still laughing.

The kanji were as simple as they could be, the brushwork clean, and Keiichi still had an earnest look.

"Isao-sensei wrote it a while ago, Most Blessed, but insisted he speak it aloud in the griffins' presence before it be allowed. It took some time to arrange."

"I imagine it did." Kel had a vision of the old man scrambling up the mountains calling for griffins, and swallowed laughter, realising other immortals must have helped. "Do please convey my thanks to him, sensei, for his great scruple. And tell me, does Lord Sakuyo's Joke work as I hoped?"

The Emperor answered her. "Surely, Keladry-chan. Scrolls of the best haiku are already circulating. The most striking I recall was, Such wealth underneath Blessed Hidetaki's hat. I have seen ghosts smile."

Kel wished she had her shukusen to hide behind, and had to draw hard on the stillness of her lake. "The greyness works in your copy as well, then. It's still potent in the big one. But Blessed Hidetaki's hat is … a strange name in more ways than one."

"I agree, but he found it comforting, oddly. As he did the visit of Lord Wyldon, who was most interesting on the subject of learning from you, Keladry-chan. A very impressive man."

"Yes, he is, Daichi-shushou. I dread to think what he had to say about that, mind, though I've probably heard it."

"Much but not all, I think. He confessed himself still amazed and often baffled by you, but said you had forced him to think about himself and his beliefs more deeply than anyone else, to his great benefit. And that the only large thing he had ever managed to give you was a horse, and even then only when your need for one was urgent, an advantage I do not have. But at Taikyuu's clever insistence, we have dared to bring a horse all the same, a fine young pangare bay colt, for Tobeis-chan."

Kel didn't need to look at Tobe's face to know she was lost, and after cushions were rearranged to let Taikyuu tell him all about it she gave the Emperor a wry look.

"It's extremely kind of you, as well as thoroughly sneaky."

"Emperors have to be, alas. And a princely gift was owed him in his own right, not only for Sekkinukesaku. But I do have one or two things for you I hope you will accept, despite your wary look. First, your naginata blade has seen hard service, and was scored by that crossbow bolt. Hayato-sensei measured its weight and dimensions most carefully, and believes you will be very happy with the one we have crafted as a replacement."

Defeated again, Kel nodded meekly. "Thank you. I've been worrying about that, though it's only a bad scratch."

"Good." He gave a genuine smile. "Lord Wyldon said I must appeal to your passions, not try to address the great worth so obvious to everyone else. Do you have a tearoom showing horses,

children, and naginata?"

She had to laugh. "No, but I will. How splendid. Umeboshi, Domitan, and knighthood would also be true, but the jokes would be too rude."

"Sweeting!"

Her Mama sounded as scandalised as amused, but Yamanis had no problem with earthy humour, and Reiko's eyes were dancing.

"Indeed, Keladry -chan. All saw your mutual devotion. And I think perhaps the last thing is for Domitan-sama. I do have some kimonos for you, and a teaset, but those are ordinary, and this tale is not. One among those who saw you that night in Sorei was a carver of soapstone reliefs, and he was moved to a fine image of you flanked by griffins, hound, and hyena before dragons and basilisk, with stormwings above. It is now in Lord Sakuyo's temple, where he presented it. But the night after he had done so he dreamed vividly, waking with a great urge to carve. And when he heard our pilgrimage announced he came to the Daidairi, showing his work and asking if he might come to our presence. The guards needed only one look to pass him through, and he asked us if we would bear this to you."

She took up a package she had brought, a small but heavy box, and in the Yamani manner with boxed gifts opened it and removed cotton padding before passing it to Kel, whose breath caught as Nari peeped surprise from her shoulder. It was quite unlike most soapstone work, a relief portrait in one polished face of an irregular piece of red -veined stone, but it showed her laughing the terrible laugh, serene and deadly, and some trick of carving or rock brought it alive. Memory of the moment flared — Fujiwara's sneer, the distorting space that announced dragons, and her merciless amusement laced with unavailing sorrow for fools. But her lake was calm, and the image only truth. Distantly the thought came to her that once this knowledge would have left her horrified at herself, but no longer.

"Lord Sakuyo's hand, and Lord Gainel's, I imagine. And yes, for Dom, not me." She passed it to her Papa, whose face froze, and looked at Reiko. "Did the carver dream its name?"

She nodded. "Oh yes, though he said he didn't think he understood it properly. The Burden." Kel closed her eyes. "Yes. That's the one."

Time did not allow the Emperor to walk the Pilgrim's Way, as he would genuinely have wished, and in fine weather they easily rode two and sometimes three walking stages a day. Kel and her Papa had had the road built wide enough for wagons to pass, though bridges and fords were still bottlenecks and muletrains had to be manoeuvred around. But with the way basilisks had transformed layered gravel into a smooth surface, slightly angled to shed rain, both foot and wheeled traffic flowed easily. The way pilgrims hastily stepped aside for a fast-moving mounted party bothered her, but it wouldn't happen very often, and gods knew those stepping aside were more pleased than irritated to do so, calling out praise-greetings in Yamani when they saw for whom they made way.

Tobe's new colt was too young to be ridden on such a journey, but trotted beside him happily, already as entranced by his horse magic as he by its beauty. Kel helped him with the grooming, enjoying the animal herself, its classic lines promising a valuable addition to New Hope's breeding stock. Prince Taikyuu was there, as often as not, his and Tobe's conversation a bewildering mix of Yamani and Tortallan, and she came to know him a little better, appreciating his intelligent understanding of the changes that were underway in Yaman, and would profoundly affect his

own life, as they were affecting his parents' lives and reigns.

Kel had been genuinely surprised by Reiko's appearance on the first morning in riding leathers and without face paint, but not even Yamani protocol could sensibly insist that a woman riding daily forty-mile stages should be whitely expressionless, and she was taking advantage. Her retinue and maids of necessity followed her lead, but that didn't mean she or any of them found it easy, and Kel and her Mama reckoned progress in a decreasing daily count of shukusen uses. Paint still appeared at evening stops and brief teahouse ceremonies, including one at Stagsford amid the kanji Tobe admired, but that was only to be expected. And as word could not outpace them, they created a rippling wave of shock as pilgrims realised what they were seeing, and converted praise-greetings to more personal acclaimation. Shouts of Reiko-kisai joined those of Daichi-shoshou within a day, and Kel was contemplating complex looks on imperial faces when Keiichi ranged beside her, following her gaze.

"Have I ever told you how happy I am my sister had the great wisdom to befriend you all those years ago?"

"Several times, Keiichi, as you know perfectly well. But those looks are Lord Sakuyo's doing, and their own, not mine."

"All together, Keladry, as you know perfectly well, however you squirm about it. I saw you beguile your King's Council, and all those most bearded Scanrans, so I know when you have done as much to Yaman."

Kel grinned. "You should see the Council of Ten these days. I went up to Hamrkeng a couple of months back for a meeting, and Ragnar Ragnarsson had fixed it for Lord Sakuyo's day. What Scanrans think good jests you really don't want to know."

Keiichi thought about it, and shuddered delicately. "I am very sure I don't. Such an alarming notion. But I shall not succumb to your talent for distraction, Keladry. You were in Yaman barely two weeks, yet you left us deeply beguiled. Despite his excruciating accent, Nealan is quite right you were Lord Sakuyo's favoured partner in three very great jests. It is entirely mortifying, and I am most properly grateful."

"Don't you start. And don't encourage Neal — he was bad enough when the temple at Queenscove was dedicated."

"Ah yes. Yuki-chan wrote me a long letter, thrilled by the High One's blessing."

"I was better pleased it was only blossom, Keiichi. His Nibs must be in a mellow mood, resting after his labours. I hope." She got a sidelong look. "But it's a nice building, a bit grander than the one at Mindelan but just as pleasing. Geraint's getting very good at using line rather than fussy ornaments."

"This I was told also, though in rather more words. And his work is being closely followed." He shook his head. "How is it you bring so many new things?"

"But I don't, Keiichi. The world turned, and they brought themselves. I just try to use them. It's made New Hope one big experiment, where my job is keeping everyone safe, fed, and happy."

In a week of travel Kel had many such conversations with members of the Yamani party, some prompted by Nari and her flock, performing their usual scouting duties to fascinated astonishment, some by the way the guard system worked, some by the smooth roadway and the elegant, arched bridges Guild teams had built over anything wide or deep enough to be a nuisance, and others by simple curiosity and received rumour. Having to repeat herself so often was tedious, but the

exercise served its purpose, shifting inhibiting respect towards practical engagement. Anders and Inness were a great help, an alarmed Vorinna having been left in charge at Mindelan, and the chance to talk with them both was a blessing. And in an odd way the pilgrims helped too, for while pious they were also cheerful with adventure and the sights of a foreign land, and mostly seemed to classify her as just one more marvel among many. At the lunchtime and evening stops they saw her easy interaction with her tenant innkeeps and their families, or with mixed guard troops, listening with her Papa to what was going well and what might need some adjustment, and found themselves being asked for any complaints or suggestions they might have. Footcare was inevitably a concern, but there was at least a hedgewitch at most wayhouses, and sometimes a healer, as well as cobblers and farriers ; she did think, though, that some children accompanying parents, and some older pilgrims, were being pushed to their limit, and made a note to see about making some more mules and small wagons available on the stages with steeper climbs.

From Mindelan the Way ran through open land for several days, climbing only gently, but as it angled north towards New Hope the first outliers of the Grimholds made for more rugged terrain, hillsides more wooded, with firs appearing, and the streams a little faster and colder. Besides the wayhouses settlement was still sparse, though one or two new farms occupied valley bottoms, and livestock was pastured on greener and gentler slopes. The old route had gone via Frasrlund and the Vassa Road, so this cross-country angle wasn't yet familiar, and she hadn't quite appreciated how it worked on pilgrims, both in the practicalities of travel and on what she supposed one had to call a spiritual plane. The road, inevitably, was still a raw line through the land, and as the land became wilder, occasional night wolfsong closer and the smells of earth, trees, and water dominant, the sense of a rising progress towards a sacred destination grew steadily. Sightings of the hounds also increased, for though some had ranged as far as Mindelan itself, causing a considerable stir, they preferred the higher ground and trees. During the day there might only be one asleep on some sunny ledge above the road, or glimpsed loping across a hillside, but nights showed her just how skilfully they were wheedling bones and more. Few pilgrims wanted meat, but the innkeeps and their families did, hunting for it with her blessing, and the hounds knew when they'd made a kill. Arriving with Eiji at the wayhouse a day short of the Great North Road, not far south of Mastiff, she found one happily dealing with what looked like most of a haunch of venison, pilgrims in a wide and fascinated circle, and shook her head.

"You're going to get fat, Moradaunt, and then where will we be?"

His tongue lolled in a laugh. You should take us hunting again, then, Protector. And why should I chase deer when these nice mortals do it for me?

"Incorrigible."

Of course I am. Go ahead, little one. This last was to Jump, who settled in happily at the other end of the haunch, crooked tail wagging, as Moradaunt looked at her ironically. You can't say he doesn't earn his food, Protector. Oh, and when you're done with all these guests, you should go and hear that old tale-teller you once met, who specialises in us. He was delighted to meet us, once he got over his fright, so we told him about our Yamani hunt and he has added it to his repertoire. Some details are a bit exaggerated but he's got most of it right, and does tell it well.

"Worse and worse." But it wasn't as if the tale wasn't already in wide circulation, and a reasonably accurate version was as much as she could hope for ; besides, she remembered that old man with pleasure, and thought she might indeed look him up, and invite him to visit New Hope. Tobe and Irnai would be interested, too. "I must get on, but my thanks on Jump's behalf and my best to Malandra."

Of course.

Kel headed for the wayhouse proper, Eiji still beside her.

"Who is Malandra, Blessed?"

"His mate."

"Indeed." He hesitated. "It is said you called all the hounds' names that night, but none could remember them."

"The power went with the staff, Eiji, but not the knowledge it had given. And there's at least one book Numair has that names them all rightly, so I don't think it's any secret." She gave him a smile. "Knowing which one you're seeing might be trickier, mind. That is a lingering blessing of the staff, I think."

"Ah. I would be glad of the title, Blessed. Lord Weiryn is a most interesting god, I find. Bowmaker, hunter, wild justicer, and husband to a new goddess of fertility."

"More childbirth, I think. But yes, Weiryn's all of those. Daine has some good stories, but she's picky about when and to whom she tells them."

Reiko, hands massaging her lower back after the day's riding, had come up behind them, listening, and cocked her head.

"The Godborn is at New Hope, Keladry-chan?"

"She is, my Empress. Numair's teaching his magic-blending seminar, and she feels an obligation to the birds she magicked during the war. They find it hard to go back to being ordinary hawks and owls, she says, so she does, well, counselling sessions, I suppose."

"More kindness in wonder. And I do like your Jump and sparrows. I always wished as a child that my cats could speak, and your horse-sergeant on his rounds is a great favourite amid tales of you."

"Peachblossom? Huh. You should tell him so, and he'll slobber proud gratitude. He's getting on, though, and his leg aches, which makes him grumpy. Lord Arawn's visit helped — he was dizzy with excitement after that." So had everyone else been who'd seen the magnificent horse god. "But age is age."

"Truly, as my back is telling me."

"Not far now. And New Hope has a hot bath."

Properly speaking, Kel had been the imperials' host since they had left the duchy of Mindelan for her own western lands, but her parents had continued in the role so far as evening seating and the like were concerned. That would change at New Hope, where her blessed Papa refused to exert any paternal or ducal prerogatives, and as the Way became the Great North Road, entering the Greenwoods valley, they dropped back and she and Tobe rode beside the imperials. The westering sun still lit the face of the fin, but the rich summer fields were already mostly empty, and the cliffs dotted with lights. Ogre terracing gleamed white against darker hillside, and Geraint's glasshouse flared reflections, hiding the young orange and lemon trees within. To Kel the best thing was the sound of children playing, happy with extended bedtimes on long summer evenings, and the sparrows who swirled about as those who had stayed greeted the returners, but she suspected the Emperor was seeing with a more military eye. He and the Empress did look intently at the line of dormitories as well as the corral, and like Wyldon praised the clear instructions for arriving pilgrims ; but when they passed the fin and came to the stone bridge, guards saluting, he paused, staring at the gleaming icelights and the great dragon-sign, radiant in the dusk, then looking around, and finally cranking his head back to peer up at the towering height of the fin.

"You were up there, Keladry-chan?"

"I was, yes. Let's get people on their way, my Emperor, and I'll show you."

Maids and servants needed time to unpack, and once the baggage animals and retinue were past, their noise receding, she pointed.

"Trebuchet. Maggur's pavilion. So for the first painting, Daichi-shushou , I was there, on the North Tower, where the stormwing younglings are perched, for the second up on the fin, and for the third just about here, when the sally force came round from the coral. High, higher, and very gratefully back on the ground. And there, right on cue, is Junior, coming to see what the fuss is about."

The Emperor nodded, eyeing the circling griffin kit and the small stormwings who took off to greet him, but his gaze dropped back to New Hope and became hooded.

"And men charged up that roadway. Madness."

"Desperation, and battle-blindness, yes. And the berserkir. Pure force. It might well have worked if I hadn't had the dragonfire, but once they were broken, that was it, with only Maggur himself to mop up."

"A little more than that, I think."

"Not really, my Empress, though the oathtaking went on for ever."

"So your esteemed father said. And that gleaming area is where Takemahou-sensei's mageblasts did their job?"

"Yes. But do you remember I said the haiku naming Blessed Hidetaki's Hat was strange for more than one reason? Well, come and see."

As they rode towards the base of the fin, still accompanied by a swirl of sparrows, she explained about the odd custom New Hopers had developed of touching the fallen outcrop for luck, and the mud tracked onto the roadway and gatehouse, to Uinse's irritation.

"The sough had to be repaired after the outcrop fell, and still tended to leak, so I had that fixed properly, but when I heard you were coming, my Emperor, I had a better idea. We'll need to dismount. Tobe, hold the horses?"

She led them to the flagged path that now ran from road to outcrop, bridging the new sough over a drystone arch the ogres had created for her, and opened a gate to let them through the cutting in the low, grassy bank made of the earth displaced by the outcrop's fall. The sparrows settled on it, but the path continued to its base, forking around curving mossy sides, and on either hand were Yamani stone gardens, fine white gravel lapping around carefully placed rocks chosen for colour, texture, shape, and something beyond all of them she thought of as the rock's grace in its own being. Beaded icelights glowed softly along the borders, hazing some natural shadows while others strengthened as the twilight deepened. She was very pleased with it even without the joke, and she liked the joke a lot.

"Oh!" The Empress clapped her hands softly, eyes wide. "This is splendid."

Kel nodded. "I think so. And the basilisks loved doing it, as did Kit, who likes lighting up the rocks. It was only finished a few days before I had to leave for Mindelan." She switched to Yamani. "The thing is, my Emperor, people had a name for the fallen outcrop that I wasn't happy about, though I saw the humour. I fired the mageblasts, after all, to drop it on Gissa's and Tolon's

heads, and they called it Lady Kel's Hat, much as they call the look-out post up on the fin-top my eyrie. It's quite a good joke, really, but it's far too big a hat for me, and if people are going to be touching it for luck, it should be properly dedicated. And you know, it does look like a hat, but not any Tortallan hat I've ever seen." Kel took a breath. "So, my Emperor, I renamed it Lord Sakuyo's Hat, and insist on the proper name. He didn't say anything, but next day those little flowers of his were growing in the moss, as you can see, so he was amused at my answer to his joke with the paintings. But I haven't dared tell Takemahou-sensei yet, and I'd be very grateful if you could do it for me."

She didn't actually think the prickly warmage would mind at all, but asking gently capped so many jokes and tensions. The Emperor looked at his wife and son, drew a deep breath himself, becoming serene, and bowed to the mossy rock.

"But of course, Keladry-chan. And this is perfect. There will be more haiku, though."

She didn't have to count. "There already are." She grinned, squatting to score the kanji in the gravel, and saw him realise. "So long as it doesn't start happening spontaneously anywhere else. But I'm sincerely glad you like it. Time for a bath and some food, though."

They were just back through the cutting when she saw Tobe's new colt rear as Junior skidded in to land rather closer than a horse could think reasonable. Tobe's hand shot out to grasp the hooked beak.

"Junior! Behave! He's new, he's gorgeous, he's mine, and if you scare him again I'll pull out your tail-feathers myself, never mind Ma."

Released, Junior eyed Tobe for a minute before booting at his knee, and almost managed to look contrite.

"Un-huh. I mean it." Tobe swiftly gripped the feathered body tightly, and rose, lifting him within the colt's easy reach. "Here. Tanrei-chan, this is Junior, a young griffin. Junior, this is Tanrei. Now make nice."

Neither party seemed altogether sure of this instruction, but a glare from Tobe had Junior leaning forward to breathe into Tanrei's nostrils, as one should greeting a horse, and inhaling Tanrei's breath in his turn before a wriggle demanded he be set down to boot again at Tobe's knee.

Kel let out a breath of her own. "Now that's a wonder and a half."

She had taken the imperials, royals in tow, north to Dragontown, for Drachifethe and a side-dish of diplomacy, Jorvik Hamrsson and some of the Council of Ten taking the chance to pay respects and put faces to names. She had taken them west to see the first set of gated channels bypassing a run of rapids on the Vassa, and inspect the second, much greater set that were still under construction. She had hosted dinners in the gleaming messhall, for Ennor of Frasrlund, Ferghal haMinch, and some lesser lords to pay their own respects, as well as some senior divines and mages from the City of the Gods. She had introduced them to scores of immortals, from Quenuresh and no less than eight stormwings younger than Amourta to a visiting kudarung and even an unusually bold water-sprite who'd taken up residence in the moat ; and sponsored presentations by the Guild and Numair of experiments in progress, including a further extension of the range of the mirror-spell with a way of relaying them by binding two mirrors face to face, which would make Tortallan–Carthaki contact possible and could open a link with Yaman, if king or emperor was prepared to have a boat permanently sailing in circles in the middle of the Emerald Ocean, which it had sounded as if they were. She had conducted a Samradh service with some

marriages and namedays, where the Emperor had offered Lord Weiryn formal thanks for the services of the Hunt, and the double shrine had very satisfactorily glowed silver while Wuodan and Frige looked ironically on. She had even, with the help of family and friends, created some quiet times and spaces in which imperials and royals could renew and develop personal ties without godly or political nonsense to set them on edge.

And on this twenty-fourth birthday she'd hosted a farewell ball with a guest-list from which only gods were missing. The food had been spectacular, the laughter loud, and the dancing energetic. Things had wound down at last, and the twins had run themselves into happy exhaustion and been carted off to the nursery, but Diamondflame and Rainbow were still occupying the green, tripping down centuries of memory lane with Quenuresh, Barzha and other stormwings, some ogres, and Haarist'aaniar'aan, and the last time she'd seen them the imperials had been fishing for stories from an unlikely gathering of Uinse, Mikal, Fanche, and a bemused Connac (now running a second, soldier's tavern with his new Goatstrack wife and a light but unwavering hand). They would at least be sensible stories, and probably amusing, but she would inhibit the tellers, so tact and duty coincided nicely and she'd slipped out on the evening round she rarely missed when resident. A balmy night and many people still talking softly in the dark made the alures less than a refuge, and she had welcomed the solitary climb to her eyrie, especially once she was past Jonathan's commissioned panels depicting the siege and there was only the clean rock and the cool air beyond the icelight railings.

The duty guards welcomed her without surprise, and nothing to report. She knew Uinse had arranged a split shift so none would be on duty throughout the festivities, and after asking after one's ailing mother she just looked out over the heart of her fief, breathing deeply and letting her lake calm from the crowded emotions of the evening. She was contemplating the distant lights of Riversedge when she felt time slow, and wasn't surprised to look round and see Lord Sakuyo smiling at her while the guards noticed nothing at all.

"Happy birthday, daughter."

She bowed. "Hello, my lord, and thank you. For that soapstone carving too, and to Lord Gainel if he was involved. Dom adores it." He waved a hand and she frowned slightly. "You're being very discreet."

"It's a talent of mine. No-one will know I am here, except you and older immortals." His eyes were as starry as the thickly spangled sky. "You've managed to calm my Yamanis down again so nicely, and a proper visit would undo all the good work."

She considered him with some suspicion. "That's a new tack."

"Repeating a joke is beneath my dignity." He winked at her. "But yes, it is. I came partly with a message from my brother Weiryn, who agrees his hounds are getting fat despite all the employments you have found for them, and would like to talk to you sometime soon about giving them another proper run. Hush a minute. The staff doesn't have to knock you out like that, nor need lawful prey always die. This business of stormings and the Hunt needs some working out as well. But there's some fathers and husbands with thirsty heads and heavy hands that Sarra's taken a strong dislike to, not unreasonably, so he was wondering if you and Wuodan might kindly scare them into rather better behaviour."

She caught her dropping jaw. "That is … tempting, my lord. And dangerous."

"Protecting children is what you do, Keladry-chan. Among other things, of course. Do the means matter so much?"

"They might, my lord. But I'll talk to Lord Weiryn and Wuodan, certainly."

"Good. Sarra's been wanting to invite you to dinner again anyway, to talk about wanizame peppers, Yukimi's marvellous pickles, and her delightful shrine in Heian-Kyó. Clever of you, that. Diamondflame will be invited too, and will bring you, with Domitan and Tobeis, if they wish."

"Huh." She knew when she was being dragooned by gods, and commandingly wheedled by dragons, but having them working in prearranged tandem was a departure. And she had a nasty suspicion she had only herself to blame. "You said partly with a message, my lord?"

"So I did. I also wanted to tell you I don't mind if my Yamanis make shrines to you — which they are, and will, whatever Eiji thinks — because it only honours me the more. So don't fret about it." Kel rolled her eyes, and he smiled. "And to thank you for my marvellous new hat, of course. The stone gardens are delightful too, blossoming as beautifully as your sense of humour. I'm all pride in my own skill as a teacher, daughter."

She swallowed both alarm and a laugh. "As you should be, sensei. Do I make journeywoman jester, then?"

He laughed, but only as an old man might. "Surely, daughter. You did that at Heian-kyo, when your jest fitted within mine so very well, and mastery awaits you yet. Do you wonder we all watch with bated breath?"

"Piffle, my lord. But I'm glad you liked the hat joke. I meant it, you know, most earnestly."

He laughed again. "Of course you did. It is so very touching. And I cannot recall when any mortal last told any god they spoke piffle. Marvellous."

"Can't you? It's not as if there isn't frequent … occasion." But she was talking to air, and the guards looked round.

"Lady Kel?"

"Just a stray thought. I'll make sure your reliefs don't dawdle."

They thanked her and she slipped back down the spiral to the top of the steps, looking at New Hope, a dense pattern of lights and beings, and even at this height a murmuring buzz of conversation on the night air. Diamondflame glanced up at her for a long second, but didn't speak, and she began a slow, thoughtful descent, wondering at the sheer oddity of the gods, and whatever it was they'd made of her. Shrines to her? It seemed blasphemous as well as absurd, and it was all very well His Nibs telling her not to fret ; but if he heard the prayers they received … and what could she do about it, anyway? Command and glory had never been part of her childhood dream and adult determination, let alone worship, any more than dying so stupidly and being sent back, with all that had followed. But she didn't have them instead, she had them as well, because whatever else she did, she protected, the small and anyone else who needed it. And if the Hunt could truly ride in warning rather than vengeance, it wasn't a resource to be wasted.

Dom was waiting in the fin gallery, and she looked a question

"Diamondflame said you'd be glad of some company again, and that His Nibs had dropped by. Trouble?"

"No, though not untroubling, love. Mostly birthday wishes and a thank you for his new hat, but also a message from Lord Weiryn."

"Ah. I might have guessed. Restive hounds?"

"Among other things. I'd rather sneak off to bed, but it seems we should have a word with Diamondflame while he's here. Oh, and I promised the guards I'd chase their reliefs up on time."

"Of course you did." Dom shook his head. "They're already in the gatehouse, love. Arrol sent them word as soon as he saw you heading up there, as all the duty sergeants always do. So it's just dragons before bedtime."

"Oh. Good. On we go, then."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 1: Prologue - A Private Education

 **Prologue : A Private Education**

 _Stone Mountain, August 454 HE_

TAREN wasn't fast enough to stop the manicured hand that slapped his sister's face, bloodying her nose and knocking her down, too shocked to cry, but he was crouched over her, belt knife drawn, in time to stop his half-brother's boot from following up. The momentarily calculating look in Joren's eyes as he decided his irritation wasn't worth the risk to his golden skin was familiar, but the bitter twist that distorted his handsome face and the mirthless, scornful laugh were new.

"Gods, Taren, you're as bad as _she_ is, puling over the weak." His voice went falsetto, crudely mimicking Varia's. "Ooh, what's _she_ like? What do you think, you idiot?" Volume rose. "A degenerate merchant whore pretends to knighthood and you want a character sketch? Gods save us from women, not that they will."

Taren held his belt knife tighter. "She's six, Joren. It was only curiosity. And that's your own blood you've spilt."

"Hardly. None of you got the true blood, just the swarthy muck from your mother's useless family. Father should never have remarried." It was an old insult. "And count yourself lucky I've better things to do than take that knife away from you and teach you both some respect."

The door slammed behind him, and Taren sheathed his knife and busied himself for a moment staunching Varia's nose and holding her as delayed shock brought tears — but, he noted sadly, very quiet and stifled tears, as his own always were, wary of attracting any adult's attention. Complaining of Joren's behaviour was not an option, as they both knew all too well. The door opened again and his hand went to his knife-hilt but it was only Saman, who took one look, slipped in closing the door softly, and came to join him in comforting Varia. When she'd quieted and the nosebleed had stopped, Taren eased her to arm's length, thinking hard. His sister was unceasingly curious about many things, including any number of subjects their father, uncle, and half-brother would think wholly unsuitable for a girl — she sat in on his and Sam's lessons whenever she could, and already loved mathematics — but for her to risk asking Joren a question indicated a burning desire to know.

"What who's like, Var? Page Keladry?"

She nodded slightly, careful of her nose. "I thought he'd just rant. He's always cursing her because she's a girl, and says everyone hates her but she takes no notice."

"And you wondered how she can do that?"

"Un-huh. We can't go anywhere else, but she doesn't have to be there."

"Huh." Saman looked thoughtful. "That's true, Var. I hadn't thought of it like that. If he's hit her half as often as he says, she must be tough." He frowned. "He's two years older than her, but maybe she hits him back."

Taren gave his younger brother a conspirator's grin. "She does, Sam. I heard Uncle complaining that he should have driven her home by now, and what _was_ he about to be held off by a trollop of a girl. _He_ said she'd been trained as a … a whelp, I think he said, by the barbarians, the Yamanis, I suppose, and _liked_ fighting." A thought suddenly flickered. "And I heard something yesterday that made no sense, about a page killing a bandit on the eastern border somewhere, and saving others in the group that was attacked. I wonder if that was Page Keladry? It would explain why _he_ and Father and Uncle are so angry today."

Varia stirred in his lap. "She _killed_ someone, Taren?"

He looked down at her, seeing the widened eyes, half-wondering at her resilience, half-enraged at her need for it. "I don't know so, Var, but I think so. And if we do the usual with any judgement of _his_ , then she must be a very _good_ page, and a good person, too." He tried to grin but could feel it turn lopsided. "Maybe like Captain Horgan must have been as a boy, if he'd been a girl and of rank to be allowed knight training."

He was rewarded with a half-smile for their father's Captain of the Guard, who said very little but never minded when they used his soldiers as a protection from Joren or hid in the guard-room from Uncle Henchard's tempers. Captain Horgan also looked at Joren and Uncle Henchard with what Taren thought was hidden disapproval, and had stood up for his and Saman's weapons training though neither was thought worthy of becoming a Stone Mountain knight. He was a patient teacher, too.

"I can't imagine Captain Horgan as a girl. But that's interesting." Varia's half-smile faded into a frown, making her look as prematurely adult as she was too early made wise in the ways of male violence. Or at least, Stone Mountain male violence. Taren was suddenly unsure, wondering how wide a gap there might be between what was for all of them the daily norm and the rest of Tortall. "You mean you think Page Keladry's fair?"

"Yes, I do. And I think she … I don't know, protects other pages, too." Another overheard conversation between his brother and Uncle connected. "All those fights — I don't think it's just him trying to bully her, it's because she stops him whenever she sees him bullying. That beat-up-the-first-years thing to toughen them that he and Uncle go on about."

"Huh." Varia leant against him. "I wish she was here, then. Or he wasn't."

"Me too, Var." Saman patted her shoulder. "But at least now he's a squire he won't be here as often."

Taren nodded. It was the best they could hope for. But squires became knights, and Varia would still only be ten when _Sir_ Joren came back permanently, too young to escape Stone Mountain through marriage. He forced himself to smile.

"True, Sam. But let's all try to keep very quiet for the next few days, until he's gone to Nond, eh? And we'd better get you to the healer, Var, or that bruise will have mother hysterical."

Varia nodded, touching her cheek gently and wincing. She knew as well as he what would happen then, and rose obediently to follow him as Saman eased the door open, looking out cautiously.

"All clear."

Healer Rumil sighed when he saw Varia's face, and asked no questions as he did what he could to lessen the swelling and reduce the bruise. But he couldn't fix anything else, and Taren stored away his rage ; it was useful against the despair. And, he reminded himself, holding his sister's hand as she endured the pain that was Joren's only gift to any of his half-siblings, you never knew : squires did become knights, true, but both squires and knights sometimes died. It wasn't a thing to say out loud, even to Sam and Var, but he could hope, and pray. Meantime, there was getting Var's dress, stained from her nosebleed, to the laundresses before their mother saw it.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 2: Chapter One - Breaking with the Past Chapter Text

 **One : Breaking with the Past**

 _Stone Mountain, August–November 463 HE_

THE ceremony was interminable, the lines of people swearing their liege oaths seemingly endless, and the great hall uncomfortably hot despite its size and cheerless stone walls. _That_ at least would change, as soon as maybe. Flies buzzed lazily in the thick air, the smell of sweat becoming steadily more pungent, and Taren found himself admiring the unbending, immobile alertness of His Grace of Wellam, observing for His Majesty — which was ironic, as His Grace more than half-terrified him. But he also took strength from the old man's presence and delegated royal authority, and knew he would need every bit of them. His uncle's open impatience as junior staff took their turns was another stimulus, and he found it wasn't so hard to block out the muttered sighs of arrogant boredom and give each person swearing loyalty on their lives the attention he knew they deserved. And at last it drew to a close, with the cooks and gardeners, and taking a deep breath he stood before his uncle could do so, feeling a tremor in his legs but also the familiar, burning rage in his gut.

"Pronouncements already, lad?"

And so it started. Taren took a breath, centring himself, and glanced at Captain Horgan, who nodded fractionally and slipped out. "Whom do you address, Uncle Henchard?"

"Oh ho. Expecting my lording, are you? You'll have to earn that from _me_."

In an odd way the familiar contempt settled him, reminding him of exactly why he had to assert himself now, and draw a line that was hard and fast. He had never been able to boom in the way his uncle did, nor did he have his father's detached, icy coldness of voice to silence dissent, but he did now have, at long last, an absolute weapon and he would by all the gods use it.

"Wrong again, Uncle, in law, as His Grace will confirm, and in practice. And your open disrespect, even with your oath barely past your lips, is not acceptable." He could see the surprised looks, hear the indrawn breaths around the hall, but also saw the Lord Magistrate's fractional nod of satisfaction and drew strength from it to cut across his uncle's angry expostulation. "I would have made this private, Uncle, but you force my hand, so listen well. That you expect to rule me as you half-ruled my father is plain, but I tell you now, you will _never_ do so." The anxiety on his mother's and aunt's worn faces was an anguish, but their perpetual, beaten meekness punctuated by hysterics had won them _nothing_. "And yes, I have some pronouncements, Uncle, which apply to you as to everyone save my mother, brother, and sister."

He didn't give his uncle any chance to gather himself or reply.

"The first is that no-one save those I have named will ever again mention my dead half-brother in my hearing, on penalty of immediate dismissal."

"What! You—"

Rage flared. "Be silent!" And for a miracle his uncle was, staring his shock. Taren took a deep breath, banking the rage again. "As all know, whatever it was the elemental of the Chamber of the Ordeal said to my father, of my half-brother and his death, was to him revelation enough to break his pride and send him into this premature retirement he has chosen. Such is his right, as is his silence on the matter, however … frustrating." And utterly irresponsible as well as loveless, but that was only to be expected. "But you, Uncle, you have ever since abused the elemental, prating of its supposed corruption and weeping drunkenly into your cups for my dead half-brother's marvellous promise." Another breath, and he gestured his living brother and sister to his side, settling his hands on their shoulders. "What neither you nor my father seem to have asked yourselves, even once, is what kind of revelation about Joren _anything_ could be to me? Or to Lord Saman or Lady Varia? That he was as cruel as the day is long? A bully so full of hate and pride there was no room for anything else?"

White shock and the familiar red rage warred in his uncle's face.

"What do you mean?"

"If you truly do not know, Uncle, you are the only one here. My mother knows. Your wife knows. The gods know Saman, Varia, and I know. And the servants know. How could they not? Between you, you and my father spoiled Joren utterly. And I thank the gods he did not survive the Ordeal he failed, for had he done so, returning here in bitterness, he would truly have been unendurable."

Taren stopped himself before the real venom, accumulated over years, could spew from his lips, and took a breath. His mother needed his protection and kindness also, and his hands tightened again on his siblings' shoulders. His fellow survivors. Across the room Captain Horgan slipped back in, giving him a second fractional nod, and he braced himself to do what had to be done.

"So. His name is never again to be spoken by any here to me, nor to Lord Saman nor Lady Varia, by my order this day." It was so odd to speak the formula in his own right. "But other matters cannot be so soon consigned to silence. And though my father declined to explain to me or to anyone his decision to resign in bitterness of heart the lordship of Stone Mountain, he did have one piece of advice for me, which may come as a surprise to you, Uncle, as it surely did to me. He told me to heed closely Lady Knight Keladry, now Countess of New Hope, because the gods walk with her as they never have with him."

The war of white and red in his uncle's cheeks flared as he spat. "As if we needed more proof Burchard's lost his wits. You listen to me—"

"No. I am _done_ with listening to you. We all are. And my father has not lost his wits. He's lost his heart, in so far as he ever had one. It is you who lack wits, Uncle, for even with the triumph at New Hope, owed to its Countess, you refuse to see that you were _wrong_ about her — you, and Joren, and the whole conservative crowd you ran with, who moaned that women were ruining Tortall and had no place outside your beds. Well, now the woman you all came to hate most, even more than the Lioness, has saved Tortall, and most of your drinking and cursing pals died as self-proclaimed traitors, attacking New Hope. And _still_ you will not open your eyes."

Taren took another breath as his uncle goggled, letting his hands drop and feeling the tension in the hall coil still tighter as he broached the subject that was on everyone's mind.

"I grant my father this, and this alone — that he truly did not know what Stone Mountain's iron and crafts were making, nor for whom. He swore it by gods' oath before His Majesty and His Grace of Wellam, and the chimes sounded for true witness, as His Grace affirms. How would he have known, in any case, with the fief's daily business so shamelessly remitted to the late lord of Genlith? Yet another cursed traitor." Despite Taren's efforts bitterness tinged his voice, and he swallowed to settle it. "Three days ago, Captain Horgan, in my presence and that of His Grace, also swore a gods' oath, and again the chimes sounded, so he too is known innocent of treason."

Heads swivelled to Horgan, whose face was utterly still.

"But you, Uncle, have sworn no god's oath that you were innocent of the treason that possessed Genlith, Runnerspring, Groten, and so many others. And even supposing I were to set all else aside — which I do not, and will not — I cannot afford the doubt that very many feel, noble and common, here and elsewhere. Nor can the fief at large. Captain, if you would."

Horgan saluted before turning to gesture to the hand-picked guards on the doors, who threw them wide to admit a squad of the maroon-clad Army troops who had accompanied His Grace, escorting eleven men and a woman, their faces stunned and scared. His uncle's head snapped round, white at last triumphing in his cheeks.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Taren waited until the twelve under guard were arrayed before him, and gestured Saman and Varia to stand aside again.

"It's very simple, Uncle. Besides your mistress, openly kept these last years in despite of my Aunt's honour and feelings, these are all men you have appointed here during your periods of regency. And I require from them all, as from you, gods' oaths that you are innocent of the late treason." He drew the paper from his pocket. "As the matter is complex, I have taken advice from His Grace in the wording of the oath. Any of you, for example, might have known of a special commission for fine metalwork, or of unusual shipping arrangements in the Drell trade, and yet never imagined for whom the weapons and food were intended. So what you must each declare is that you had no certain knowledge of any treason intended to harm the House of Conté or to help the late King Maggur Reidarsson of Scanra and further, that you had no certain knowledge of Stone Mountain's role in building the necromantic creations known as killing devices, and the giant trebuchet used by Scanran forces in the siege of New Hope." One more deep breath. "Any refusal to swear your innocence by gods' oath will be taken as evidence that you dare not do so, and so an admission of guilt." He looked at their faces, and made a decision. "And as they are all your people, Uncle, and rank, as you so often insist, has proper privileges, it falls to you to take the lead. Your oath, or your refusal to swear it. Now."

He held out the paper, with the necessary wording.

"Captain Horgan, perhaps you would be kind enough to hold this where my uncle can see it clearly."

"My lord."

Horgan added a bow, underlining his acceptance of new authority, and Taren inclined his head in thanks. He watched his uncle read the oath, and when he looked up met his gaze, seeing fright beginning to lace the familiar anger and blustering contempt for so many people and so much that was worthwhile seeing also the fuddled calculation. Everyone _knew_ that to swear a gods' oath falsely was to die, horribly, but who had actually seen what happened? Were the stories true? And was there any leeway in a muttered negative or fingers crossed behind the back? He glanced at the stricken face of his aunt beside his white-faced mother, and made another decision.

"Your Grace?"

The old man's look was shrewd, his lips pursed as he nodded. "Henchard of Stone Mountain, do _not_ swear falsely. I once saw a man do so in my court, so desperate to obtain a legacy and so contemptuous of the gods that he believed himself above their justice. And I have no wish ever to see a man's blood boil in his veins again. It was beyond description in its horror." Hard old eyes considered his uncle. "Whatever guilt you bear cannot be capital. I have already rooted deep into the plans that the late lord of Genlith and former lord of Runnerspring laid, and vile traitors as both have proven they were not such fools as to have confided in a man as prone to drunkenness as you. If you cannot in conscience swear the oath your liegelord demands, you would be well advised simply to say so."

His uncle's fear and anger flared, but his voice lacked its usual volume.

"You have corrupted my nephew to this outrage!"

"Nonsense." The old man sniffed, quellingly. "My charge here from His Majesty is simply to ensure that this irregular transfer of power is both genuine and enacted smoothly, as it evidently is and thus far has been. I have been extremely careful to say nothing prejudicial, either to my lord of Stone Mountain or anyone else, though I did lay out for him clearly what exactly was confessed at the treason trials in Corus, and by whom. And it might interest you to know, Lord Henchard, though I take leave to doubt your ability to understand what it means, that the _only_ reason the sentences at those trials were not uniformly capital, as the crimes proven fully warranted, was the advice His Majesty sought and received from Countess Keladry."

His uncle's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about?"

"Truth, my lord, and I warn you I will brook no further discourtesy. The Countess is, you see, sick of killing fools, even when also traitors, as well she might be, given her personal tally. Blazebalm is unavoidably messy, however swift." The old man slowly dusted his hands with grim satisfaction as more faces than his uncle's blenched. "Now, my lord, are you going to swear that oath, as your liegelord very properly requires, or are you going to declare yourself unable to do so?"

His uncle tried to rally, turning to him.

"And what if I do refuse? It's beneath—"

"Then, Uncle, you become a problem I will have to solve, an elder kinsman who cannot be trusted and whose tarnished reputation imperils my fief. If you can swear, do so now."

The silence dragged, and after a moment Taren opened a hand.

"Then you cannot. So. I would be within my rights to order your death, and gods know there are enough past lords of Stone Mountain who would have done so without blinking. But I am advised by my father to heed Countess Keladry, whom His Grace tells us is sick of killing fools, which means you have a choice, Uncle. You can swear a gods' oath to leave Tortall within thirty days and never cross its borders again, or you may live strictly confined to your estates at Margaran, communicating with none by letter and receiving no visitors without my let." Taren paused for just long enough. "If you choose Margaran, the estate will of course be guarded to ensure your compliance. And though I will bear the expense, those men will wear maroon, not the uniforms of the Stone Guard. There will also be magical wards against any escape."

"You can't mean that."

The voice so often raised in anger held a quavering note.

"Oh, but I do. Every last word of it, Uncle. Swear the oath, or choose between exile and lifelong confinement."

It was confinement, of course, as Taren had known it would be if the oath could not be sworn, for what could his uncle do abroad, without money? And he'd imagine there might be a way out, in time, though he'd be disappointed. It was a bleak, brutal business, and his voice was harsh as he gave the decree, but the relief he could see in Saman's and Varia's eyes as their uncle was at last taken out under guard was worth it.

Dealing with his uncle's various appointees was easier. Five could and did swear the oath of innocence, soft chimes bringing cries of surprise from many, and were allowed to return to their posts, for now at least the six who declined he promptly remitted to the custody of His Grace of Wellam, pending investigation of what exactly they knew, while also dismissing them from his service. The woman also declined to swear, her eyes bitter though her voice was mocking.

"I have no wish to feel my blood boil any more than it is already, my lord. And your uncle talks in bed as well as in his cups." She blew out a breath. "I couldn't make much sense of it, but he clearly knew something was up that shouldn't be. So I did too, and I held my tongue, not that there was anyone I could have told anyway."

Taren didn't conceal his wince, but kept his own voice gentle.

"I hear you, Mistress Briana. And while I must resent the affront to my aunt that you represent, I am well aware that you had little choice, and have more than once stayed blows Saman or Varia would have taken, or suffered them yourself, and for that I would forgive you a great deal. Whatever promises my uncle may have made you must lapse, but I have instructed Steward Thalric to pay you a pension drawn on my uncle's former estates, and though I must ask you to leave my household, I will provide reasonable lodgings in the town or give you sufficient to settle somewhere else of your choice."

Mockery and bitterness alike vanished, replaced by shock.

"You mean it, my lord?"

"I am not my uncle. What I say, I mean, and what I promise, I do. I cannot like you, Mistress Briana, nor approve your conduct, but I desire only your absence from my household."

"Then you have my sincere thanks, my lord. It is more than I expected. And if I may stay in the town, I will. Such kin and friends as I have are here."

"Very well. Go with Steward Thalric, now, and he will see about removing your rightful possessions to your new lodgings."

She gave him a look with renewed suspicions as she went, but he had instructed Thalric to be generous in letting her take whatever clothes and furnishings his uncle had given her, as well as any savings she'd managed from the funds he had occasionally provided. Jewellery was another matter, though, for there were heirloom pieces among the rings, necklaces, bracelets, and brooches Briana had worn when on his uncle's arm things actually purchased new for her — such as they were, his uncle having a great deal less taste than money — she could keep or sell as she would, and welcome.

With the day's business at last done Taren formally closed proceedings, thanking the Lord Magistrate for his attendance, and invited him to retire with the family for a glass of wine before the evening meal. At his glance, Sam and Var collected their aunt and mother, escorting them as they followed, and once the wine was served Taren thanked and dismissed the servants until food was ready. Taking a breath, he went to sit next to his aunt, whose eyes were dark with new uncertainties.

"I'm so sorry you had to see and hear all that, Aunt Lily, but I didn't feel I had any choice." He shrugged wearily. "You said you wanted to be free of Uncle Henchard, as we all do, and banishment would become public knowledge in any case. And it's not only that he would never have accepted my authority in fief or household, though that matters. I'm afraid that however little he actually knew about the traitors' plans and links with Maggur, he is tainted by his long association with Genlith and many of those who sought the King's death." Taren took a deep breath. "I cannot suppose it much comfort, but for once the awful way he treated you helps you, because no-one supposes you knew anything, but he and the fief as a whole are … besmirched." The word so often used by his father and uncle was for once true, and he saw the Lord Magistrate's eyes glint. "And if we are to recover we must have a clear break with how Stone Mountain has been."

A wary curiosity sparked in his aunt's gaze, and he sensed his mother sit forward before he heard her wavering voice.

"A break, Taren dear? What sort of … what do you mean?"

He turned to face her. "Only what I say, Mama. All else aside, Genlith will be under royal administration for a year at least, while His Grace investigates, so we have to reorganise everything its late lord did for Father." The Lord Magistrate nodded agreement. "And we need to make other changes, tightening supervision of our trade and where it goes. Don't worry, please — it shouldn't affect you or Aunt Lily personally, but I will be very busy for several months." He looked at his aunt. "That's another reason I had to banish Uncle Henchard now, because I'll need to travel widely within the fief, and I would not leave you here with no-one to overrule him."

After a moment his aunt patted his hand lightly.

"Thank you, Taren." Her voice was very soft, by habit as much as anything else, he thought. "He's really gone, then. And her."

"Yes, they really are." Taren blew out a breath. "And you are both free to do as you will. Whatever you will. Gods know you've both endured enough. But Mama, Aunt Lily, you do need to understand that things _are_ going to change." He sat forward, bracing hands on knees. "Beyond proper courtesy, this is why I have asked His Grace to join us now, to help me explain. I said that we _need_ to change, and that's the plain truth. It's not only to cleanse the taint of treason, though that is a necessity. But I'm also beginning to understand that Tortall's been changing around us for years, while we've been held back by Father's conservatism and … withdrawal. And while all the central and southern fiefs were safe during this last Scanran War, the north has been hit hard and often, and war forces change. And then there's the way it ended — the news from New Hope shocked everyone, not just us, and if we keep standing still we'll be so far behind that we won't be anything more than a history lesson. As far as I can tell, Father's abdication means people are willing to wait and see what I'll do. But, bluntly, as the full facts of the Peace Treaty sink in, and the tales about Countess Keladry, I think any undue delays will be seriously unpopular."

"I concur, my ladies." The Lord Magistrate's glance at Taren seemed approving. "Forgive me, but Lord Taren is further-seeing than his father, and, however irregular the circumstances, his accession to the lordship of Stone Mountain coincides with sweeping changes that will not be denied. To fight them would be foolish, as to embrace them is wise."

His mother nodded, but her frown remained and her voice was still uncertain.

"But why is there to be such change so fast, Your Grace? I don't understand." Words suddenly came in a rush. "How has the Lady Knight done all this? When he hated her Burchard was always talking about her fouling Tortall's honour, and then about her being responsible for my stepson's death, though I never understood how she could be. But after he met her in Corus two Midwinters back he wouldn't say anything about her at all, until news of this victory came and he suddenly said he'd be going away and Taren had to take over. And now there are all these wild stories about the siege and the treaty and this bridge she built, and none of it makes any sense to me."

Her voice had risen almost to a wail, but to Taren's surprise the Lord Magistrate's mouth quirked into a smile.

"You are by no means alone in your confusion, my lady. I was there to see events with my own eyes, and I am still struggling to accept what transpired, never mind understand the implications." He shook his head. "At my age I do not expect surprises, but the whole business was extraordinary from the moment we all arrived at New Hope and Runnerspring failed to pass the Honesty Gate. And it only got stranger."

Taren saw his sister's eyes light with curiosity. Var's love of mathematics had long been joined by an obsession with the stone- and metalwork that was the fief's lifeblood, as well as a fascination with magery, though she had had to conceal all three from her father and uncle.

"May I ask how the Honesty Gate works, Your Grace?"

The Lord Magistrate's eyebrows rose. "Of course, Lady Varia, but I fear I can tell you only that it has griffin magic spelled into its stone, so that standing under it no-one can lie, nor be fooled by any illusion. A very useful bit of magecraft. There's one at Northwatch, too, I gather." He hesitated. "I cannot avow it, but I _believe_ the griffins undertook the spell at New Hope because they felt they owed Lady Keladry a debt for her care of their kit, when she was squire to my lord of Goldenlake. The kit certainly looks to her when he's at New Hope."

"Oh, I know that story." Varia bounced in her seat. "She killed the centaur who'd stolen him. Is he there often, Your Grace?"

"Far too often, frankly, Lady Varia. He is … impertinent. Little menace." This last was a mutter and Taren saw his sister's eyebrows twitch up, wondering himself what form griffin impertinence might take. "Ha-hmm. Be that as it may, as commander of New Hope, one of Lady Keladry's standing orders was that anyone entering for the first time must declare their name and that they intended no harm to it or its people — a declaration Runnerspring found himself unable to make. The undiluted dreamrose found in his saddlebags was the first hard evidence of his treasonous intents."

He turned back to the older women, giving a slight shrug.

"A proper account of events would take all evening, my ladies, assuming I could manage one. The historians are already at work, commissioned by His Majesty and the Council of Ten, and we must all wait on their labours. What matters more is to say plainly, with apologies for any distress it may cause you, that Lord Burchard was from the first wholly mistaken about Lady Keladry. Blinded by his belief that as a woman she _should_ not attempt knighthood, he supposed she _could_ not be a warrior. He was by no means alone in that error, but the, ah, depth of his misjudgement, shall we say, was extreme. And of course Lady Keladry has never fouled Tortall's honour — quite the opposite — and bears no responsibility whatever for the death of your stepson. For whatever reason, he failed his Ordeal, and the elemental of the Chamber did not let him leave it alive. No mortal man or woman had any say in it — none ever has, nor ever will."

Taren took that last under mild advisement, for Lady Keladry had spoken to the elemental, which was not how things were quite supposed to be, and Horgan had passed on some odd stories about new pages and their parents being warned that the Ordeal of Knighthood would include testing for chivalry as well as fighting ability ; but he had no wish to interrupt. The Lord Magistrate harrumphed a little, clearing his throat.

"As to more recent events, the nub of the matter is that, as all now know, Lady Keladry has proved herself every inch the commander that my lords of Cavall and Goldenlake said she was, decisively scotching the treason Runnerspring and Genlith had hatched, and even more decisively winning the war by killing King Maggur. And, my ladies, it is not just the fact of her victories that is important, but their manner, which was astonishing, and the scale of the casualties she inflicted, which was terrifying." Taren didn't doubt it, but there was a grim satisfaction in the Lord Magistrate's voice all the same. "To be blunt, my Ladies, one reason change will accelerate, here and in Scanra, is that a very great number of those who would have opposed it are dead, and more have been sentenced to imprisonment for life. Moreover, to win her victory Lady Keladry also forged a series of new alliances — friendships, even, odd as it seems — with immortals, including dragons. What has been, since the Immortals War ended, occasional and uneasy contact, has at New Hope become something far greater."

He drained his glass, refusing the refill Saman politely offered.

"Thank you, Lord Saman, but one glass is enough before we eat. I don't believe anyone mortal, even Lady Keladry, really knows how New Hope will develop. Mmm. Forgive me, but there really is no way of making this sound more probable, and I can only report what I saw." Taren saw a glint in his eye, and realised the old man actually rather relished being improbably truthful. " _Something_ about the dragons' participation in the creation of the new bridge across the Vassa occasioned a procession of gods to manifest and walk across it, delivering blessings, which in turn led to the dragons … well, dancing is the only word that does justice to it. Scores of them, dancing on the wind." The old hands moved around one another in an oddly graceful gesture. "I do not believe I have ever seen anything at once so beautiful and terrible. Even the massed gods did not surpass it." His shrug was eloquent. "As to what it was really all about, besides naming the bridge _Drachifethe_ , meaning 'the dragons' wyrd', Lady Keladry declines to offer any explanation, declaring the whole matter the business of the gods and dragons, and none of hers or ours, a view with which I can sympathise." His lips quirked. "But I can add that she seems to believe it to have been another peace treaty of a sort, formally ending a conflict of great antiquity between gods and dragons. We must be glad it is over, I dare say, but the whys and wherefores do not affect what truly matters to Tortall, which is that the Great North Road now runs unbroken from Corus to Hamrkeng. And that too will accelerate change, my ladies, for trade is already growing sharply, bringing peaceful Scanrans south with it — and they in turn bring their own tales and ballads of Lady Keladry's exploits."

The Lord Magistrate's gnarled old hands suddenly turned and spread wide as he shrugged.

"When all is said and done, the real point is simply — or not so simply — Lady Keladry herself. Consider, my ladies, how very determined she must have been to become the first woman since the Lioness to achieve knighthood, and how strong her character, her will, had to be. I had the honour of instructing her before her Ordeal, and she was formidable even then, as well as clearly a woman of deep honour. The war put her into command very young, and she rose magnificently to the challenge. His Majesty has, boldly and in my view very rightly, made her the youngest Councillor and youngest person to be ennobled for centuries, and bestowed an _enormous_ land grant — more than a million-and-a-half acres, which the Scanrans matched, recognising her as a clanchief."

Taren had been very surprised by the figures when he'd first heard them, and his mother had clearly not taken them in at all before now, paling even further as she did so.

"More than a million …"

"Just so, my ladies, and doubled by the Scanrans. Counting those territories beyond our border, to cross the fief of New Hope south to north is more than a hundred miles, and east to west even further, so Countess and Clanchief Keladry is now in soberest fact one of the three most powerful northern nobles, with her ducal father at Mindelan and Lord Fergal haMinch. And while much of the land is yet poor and only thinly settled, that will change. His Majesty deliberately included the silver mines formerly of Tirrsmont, and there is already a flow of pilgrims to see Drachifethe, so I don't imagine it will be long before New Hope is as great a financial power as it already is a military one. Moreover, the immortals at New Hope do not simply accept Lady Keladry's authority, calling her 'Protector', but plainly admire her, and intend to stay in her service. Despite her own protests mortals and immortals unanimously elected her Master of the Craftsbeings' Guild. She also enjoys divine favour, as Lord Burchard finally realised, and from what I and many saw, on Drachifethe and at New Hope, is chosen of more than one god. Add it all together, my ladies, and marvel, but then consider that Countess Keladry is not only herself an embodiment of change — she is also demanding and forcing change in many things, politically and through her Mastership, and _that_ will cut deep into Stone Mountain's proper concerns. So to sum up, Lord Taren is quite correct to anticipate significant change throughout the realm, and wise to support rather than seek to oppose it."

Taren nodded his thanks, and met his mother's eyes, still uncertain but looking more thoughtful.

"So I am beginning as I mean to go on, Mama. But I do have one particular problem that concerns you and Aunt Lily, because as soon as the basic overhaul of the fief is done, and work's running smoothly again, before Midwinter I very much hope, I have a longer journey I need to make, so the question arises of whom I leave as my regent. Sam can't do it before he comes of age, and in any case he and Var will be coming with me. I would trust Captain Horgan, but he has no wish to take on the political and social responsibilities, so I have asked His Majesty to recommend a knight or senior officer freed from military duties by the end of the war."

His mother frowned. "But where do you have to go that takes so long, dear?"

"Corus, Mama, in the first place, for Midwinter. I am commanded to attend the Council of Nobles, as is right, and I have a lot of fences to mend. If you and Aunt Lily want to come for the festivities you're both very welcome. But in the Spring, once the thaw comes, Sam, Var, and I will be heading north, to New Hope."

Both older women sat bolt upright.

"New Hope? Truly? Why?"

Taren took a careful breath. "In the first place, to make my own peace with Countess Keladry, Mama, and for what little they are worth to offer her my apologies for all that Stone Mountain has said of and done to her. We know Joren did her wrong, and Father, and though he told me he'd apologised to her for what he called misspeaking of her, I doubt his words were … adequate. In any case, I wish to make my own, and draw a line under past wrongs. But I also want to know what the elemental of the Chamber of the Ordeal said about Joren. Apart from Father only two people heard, and His Majesty informed me that while he would not tell me himself, he had no objection to my asking the Countess." And no certainty that she would be willing to say anything, but Taren hoped and thought she would understand why he needed to know — not on Joren's account, but on his father's. "I also need to talk to the Craftsbeings' Guild as soon as possible about obtaining their help here, and I think we have a better chance of getting it if I go in person."

"You want to … to bring Immortals here?"

"I do, Mama."

"But they're dangerous!"

"Not all are, Mama, and we _must_ stop thinking of them as enemies. You know about the King's requirement for treaties."

His mother frowned. "But that's if you have immortals on your lands, isn't it?"

"Primarily, Mama, but it does us no credit that immortals seem to avoid Stone Mountain. Besides, those of the Guild have shown themselves more than trustworthy, and we need them, badly. For one thing, His Grace tells me that the ogres and basilisks at New Hope have new ways of mining that make it very much less dangerous, and you know how many men die in our mines." Not that his father had ever seemed to care much beyond lost or delayed profits, but no-one could live at Stone Mountain for long and remain ignorant of the frequent accidents. "It is both right and politic that I do whatever I can to change that. And for another, the reports from Corus are clear that these new icelights the Craftsbeings' Guild is selling have made the city much safer, so everyone wants their own — and though I fear Stone Mountain will have to wait some while, I intend to place an order. It will also serve as another clear sign that I am not my father, and that Stone Mountain is changing, for the better."

There were more things he might have added, but the call to dinner made a natural break, and Taren rather thought spidrens who could scale curtain walls to inspect stonework, and darkings who could — the Lord Magistrate assured him — communicate immediately across any distance, would only frighten his poor mother and aunt the more. There was also a benefit in turning the conversation, and over dinner he steered it to the question of attracting healers to the fief, and training homegrown hedgewitches, topics his father had scorned that were dear to his mother's heart, and that he had happily placed in her purview.

Sam and Var were another matter, though, and Taren had spent most of what little free time he'd had since his father's shocking decision to resign in lively conversation with them about the unending implications of events at New Hope. Both were itching to set off, and privately so was he, but Stone Mountain had to be set in better order first, and he knew he had some hard weeks ahead, as well as the stint in Corus with all its politics. But however truly hard the immediate future might prove, with his father and uncle gone for good it would be better than any of the past, and not only for him.

As summer heat ebbed and leaves began to turn, Taren found himself giving frequent thanks to the gods for his siblings. Sam accompanied him as he traversed and circled his fief, at once educating himself to be an able regent, making good impressions with his cheer and open manners, and offering himself as confidante and counsellor when Taren needed to vent or felt overwhelmed. The wariness of so many liegers was only to be expected after lifetimes of dealing with Lords Burchard and Henchard, the one ever liable to icy as the other to bellowing displeasure ; but it grated, and however well Taren knew abstractly that proving himself other than they would take time, his heart hurt as he tried to deal with the fears his arrival always aroused. Kindness to his liegers' younger children was often the best tactic, reassuring parents and laying foundations for easier relations in future, while the children's relaxation once he proved himself friendly was a comfort to Taren himself.

There were a great number of practicalities also. Neither his father's various deputies nor Genlith's overseers had ever been slipshod — his father would not have tolerated it — but their priorities had been profit and keeping rigidly to traditional ways ; and as the weeks passed it became very clear that both his father, in his grief for Joren, and Genlith, as treason consumed him, had seriously failed in their supervision of the fief. At the smaller end of the scale very many tasks involving sufficient expenditure to require authorisation had been left undone, so Taren found himself signing scores of chits for repairs to cottage and barn rooves, heavier fencing, river embankments, and the like ; while at the larger end a good deal of corruption and peculation had crept into the flows of stone, ore, metals, and complex ironwork — encouraged, he came to realise, by an unspoken awareness that Genlith had diverted a considerable volume of foods and metals, and sauce for the lord was sauce for the liegeman. In all but a few of the most serious cases Taren was willing to forgive and forget, but that did not mean allowing improprieties to continue, and he had to expend considerable effort imposing new controls, as well as expanding the wage-bill.

Money, though, was one thing that wasn't a problem. Even with Genlith's depredations Stone Mountain's coffers remained deep, and income was rising : sudden victory and welcome peace had boosted confidence everywhere, and, if now challenged in the north by New Hope, Stone Mountain remained for central and most of southern Tortall the primary source of ashlar, iron, and steel alike. When the Lord Magistrate's enquiries at Genlith were concluded it was possible that fief's fines might spill over onto Stone Mountain, but His Majesty had been clear that while his fief's political power was broken until and unless he could restore it — should he decide he wanted to — Burchard's innocence of treason and abdication of lordship left a clean slate. Taren suspected, and Sam thoughtfully agreed, that His Majesty had foreseen the necessary surge in expenditure, in effect endorsing it, and the thought connected with a new awareness of just how many people in his fief might serve as royal eyes and ears. It was entirely reasonable, however disturbing, and Taren knew that while he was being given his chance, he was himself being closely watched, and guessed that as well as those reporting to Corus there would be others reporting elsewhere.

For the most part, Taren decided after some hard thought, when it came to such politics he was best advised to say little and do less. The shatteringly final violence of Countess Keladry's response to the revealed treason — leaving Genlith, Groten, and Heathercove as vacant fiefs, joined after the mass treason trial in Corus by Runnerspring and Torhelm (with Marti's Hill escaping attainder only by the skin of its teeth, its grieving lord paying a whopping fine and conceding a royal veto over any appointed heir) — had all but quashed any _political_ opposition to the House of Conté. What was still stirring, Taren thought, was simpler greed as neighbouring lords and second sons eyed newly vacated lands and as he had no interest whatever himself, and even less desire to be drawn into any covetous scheming, he was relieved and grimly amused when in late October news broke that His Majesty had (despite what sounded like much noble screaming) disallowed _all_ collateral claims for the vacant fiefs and awarded them to new men he thought deserving. Sir Douglas of Voeldine, who had been acting as royal governor at Torhelm since its Lord's arrest, became a baron and took it over permanently, while the plum of Runnerspring went to the southern Army commander, Alan of Pearlmouth, also newly ennobled. Groten and Heathercove likewise had new liegelords who had served in the northern armies, and in all four fiefs, as successive proclamations made clear, new brooms would be sweeping clean.

The news did generate one more openly political approach, from an obsequious merchant whose trade ran through Runnerspring, about the _expensive_ effect of all this regrettably high-handed royal change, to which Taren deliberately over-responded by sending the startled man in chains to Corus, and having the award of rightly vacant fiefs to men who richly deserved them proclaimed. He received in due course a mildly ironic note of thanks from His Majesty, approving the value of example while remarking that treason charges did require evidence of deeds as well as words ; and another, much more surprisingly, from Sir Myles of Olau, observing that while the merchant had been known and watched, and the considerable fright he had been afforded was no doubt salutary, it was generally preferable to trace middlemen back to their principals before arresting them. Taren thought about it, and sent a brief reply politely agreeing while noting that although His Majesty had graciously understood the value of example, he, Taren, had no desire to make more of them than was necessary for his own peace of mind.

He and Sam spent several evenings on the road arguing through the various implications. Although they had never been formally instructed in anything political, childhoods at Stone Mountain had taught them both a great deal about secrecy, political dissent, and the value of being well informed, all thrown into sharp relief by the revelations of treason, and neither had any doubt that Sir Myles and his mysterious deputy had fingers in ever so many pies. Then again, a bristling loyalty to the House of Conté was presently very much in his fief's best interests, and Taren knew he lacked the temperament for anything but maximal honesty. A visceral disgust with Joren's effortless hypocrisy and acting, his elegant, smiling face, vile personality, and privy violence against the powerless, was among his and Sam's earliest memories, its effects reinforced by the absolute gulf between the limited happiness they had known in their mother's rooms and the tense fear associated with rare visits to their father's and uncle's chambers.

"All in all, Sam," Taren concluded one night, "I don't regret the gesture. The politics we _can't_ avoid because of our trade and wealth are more than enough for us to deal with. Father relied on Genlith's management of the fief to give him time to throw his weight around in Corus, so I won't have the same leisure anyway, and if I did I wouldn't use it like that. The sooner any of the remaining conservatives realise I'm not interested in their prejudices and resentments, the better."

Sam nodded. "That I get, Tar. But some of our bigger trade contracts were made through Father's political influence."

"True, but I doubt we'll lose any of them because I'm obviously playing it very cautiously. After all, what can anyone expect me to do with Father abdicating like that, Genlith dead at New Hope, and Runnerspring imprisoned for life?"

"Mmm. And when they realise it's not caution but conviction?"

Taren shrugged. "Ending any of those contracts would be a bigger problem for them than for us. What do I know, but if they're opposing Lady Keladry and the Craftsbeings' Guild, I think they'll find they have enough problems already without needlessly making more." He drummed fingers briefly on his thigh. "If she proves hostile because of _him_ and Father, I might have to rethink, but I don't believe she will be. From something the King said, I think we have her to thank for his generosity in lending us those senior clerks, and by all accounts she takes people — and immortals — as she finds them. Duke Turomot also made a point of telling me about the way she's redeemed, his word, Sir Voelden, despite that business of the joust and what happened to his father."

"Fair enough." Sam frowned. "I knew Sir Voelden was at New Hope, and fought under her command, but nothing more. Did Duke Turomot explain what he meant?"

"Not in detail, but he did say Sir Voelden gave blood to the offering for the treaty."

"He did? Huh. That's something, all right." Sam grinned. "I still can't really believe that when Lord Mithros and the Great Goddess manifested she invited them to dinner. I thought that had to be nonsense until His Grace confirmed the tale. And the gods _dancing_ afterwards!"

Taren nodded, but had only a half-smile to offer in return. "I was taken aback too, Sam, but the gods' involvement worries me more than anything else. I hope I've never been impious, but I did use to pray for Joren's death."

"Me too, Tar. Why would they blame us for that, though? We only wanted to be safe."

"Maybe. But wanting a kin-death can't be a good thing. And Father's notions of piety have left me heartily sick of it, while none of the priests have been any use at all in helping to understand what really happened at New Hope."

"But that's because no-one really understands, Tar. Even Lady Keladry, according to Duke Turomot."

"He said she wasn't saying. Doesn't mean she doesn't know — better than anyone else, anyway."

"Maybe. I agree we could do with some new priests. Tover's useless. We should set Var on it."

This time Taren did grin, just as delighted as Sam with the way Varia was blossoming, and how helpful she was being. She'd been ten when Joren died, young enough for deliverance from his looming threat to allow her some real peace of mind as she entered womanhood. He and Sam, at thirteen and twelve abruptly the heirs presumptive and secondary, had had to cope with their father's and uncle's grief more often and directly, but Varia, as a young girl never of much interest to either, had been able to breathe a great deal more easily. She had had to conceal the extent of her studies with their tutor, but their father's withdrawal into virtual seclusion and Uncle Henchard's more frequent and longer absences had made doing so much easier, and meant there was no-one at hand to scorn her requests to visit the quarries, mines, foundries, and workshops on which the fief's wealth depended.

By her own accounts, the various masters and administrators she'd met had usually been torn between an almost automatic disdain for a girl-child and an engrained, swift deference to any member of the ruling family. However they had behaved in private, neither his father nor uncle would ever have tolerated the least disrespect by a commoner towards any child of the blood, and Var had used that, with careful politeness, to learn much of what she wanted to know. Marshalling her thoughts afterwards, she had also taught him and Sam a great deal over the last five years about the workings and weaknesses of the fief — the master miners and foundrymen who at least tried to insist on safety, and the ones who willingly cut corners to hasten profit ; the haphazard use of proper calculations when new shafts and adits were excavated, with the consequent problems ; and the clear connections between low pay, overlong shifts, and more serious accidents. More importantly, puzzled by the wide variations in practice (and, Taren thought, at some deep level offended by their inefficiency), Var had with their tutor's discreet help tracked them to their causes — the management and accounting systems Genlith had imposed, rigidly setting quotas for production without caring how they were achieved, and devolving responsibility for most practical decisions to the same masters and administrators who had to meet the quotas, under penalty of summary dismissal or worse. The result was that those mines and quarries that were well-run to begin with prospered readily, while those that for whatever reason had trouble meeting quotas tended to stay in trouble despite (and then because of) frequent changes in leadership. With the foundries the picture was more even, but those that faced shortages of ore following mining difficulties or accidents were penalised for events beyond their control and with investment tightly bound to productivity, a polarisation had resulted that was unjust as well as a source of frictions and discontents.

Almost the first thing Taren had done, once the astonishing proclamation of events at New Hope, including the death of Genlith, and his father's curt communication of his decision to abdicate, had sunk in, had been to ask Var how he should change things ; and his first real orders had been shaped by her advice. Had he had to deal with Genlith and his overseers he would not have had such a free hand, but as one was dead and several of the others in custody or flight, he could do as he would, and to Var's great satisfaction did. Quotas were abolished, a fief office of safety and standards was created, staffed, and given some teeth, and sharp financial penalties — or worse — were attached to accidents, giving masters and managers a strong incentive to prioritise safety. Two mines and a quarry were closed as beyond recovery, their workers and staff going to others to ease workload, and foundry investment was redirected. There had been protests, and much muttering, but slightly improved wages, significantly improved conditions, and a very public change in responses to accidents and care of those who survived one (or the widows and children of those who didn't) meant the great majority of miners and foundrymen were happy with him.

More would follow, Taren hoped, if he could persuade the Craftsbeings' Guild to assist, but that, he discovered, would involve some tricky politics on more than one count. The Miners' and Metalworkers' Guilds, to which all masterminers and mastersmiths necessarily belonged, were both particularly hidebound, even as guilds went, while both (with the Glassworkers and some others) were also at present severely put out by the chartering of the Craftsbeings' Guild and its royally granted monopoly on immortal work — including mining done by ogres, metalwork by ogres and centaurs, and basilisk-glass. In the usual way of things there would have been protests, loud and quite probably violent, to preserve established interests, but besides the considerations that opposing Lady Keladry or New Hope's heroic immortals just now was sufficiently unwise that even the most bone-headed guildsman knew it, and that the King had not been in Corus to be protested to until his return from the north in July, the Metalworkers in particular were in severe internal turmoil. It was their skills that Genlith and Maggur had most needed to make the killing devices and the trebuchet, and the mass treason trial in Corus had convicted a full dozen former mastermetalworkers, while the King's return had seen a score of forced resignations and retirements, in several guilds, with consequent promotions of younger but less certain men.

It should all have made Taren's life easier, and might yet, but there was a more personal consideration. It had been unthinkable while his father ruled, but when news that Lady Keladry had achieved knighthood had broken Varia had privately joked to him and Saman that perhaps she should do for mining what the Lady Knight had done for fighting, and join the Guild as an apprentice.

"I've read their whole charter, Tar, and there's no rule against women joining. There used to be lady miners and even smiths, just as there were lady knights, but they stopped coming forwards." He remembered Var's face as she said it, earnestness twisting into frustration. "I know it's impossible for me, but some girl should take them on."

And now it wasn't so impossible, but neither he nor Var, nor Sam, could tell if it would be better for her, and for the fief, to tackle the Miners' Guild directly, using whatever levers he might, or to play them off somehow against the Craftsbeings' Guild. Or even, he had suggested, to Var's considerable surprise, if she might not be better off seeking an apprenticeship with the Craftsbeings' Guild, and then tackling the remaining problems of the fief's business under a quite different authority. Besides affection, not leaving her alone, and her long fascination with the Lady Knight, it was the principal reason Var would come with him and Sam to New Hope, to see for herself what her choices might be — and if that was a course of action Lady Keladry should approve, the bonus was welcome. But it meant more delays, and he was growing increasingly impatient to be off, if only to Corus.

Which could not happen until Stone Mountain was in a state to run smoothly under its royally recommended regent, whomever that might be. The King's last letter had indicated that he had an army officer in mind but had not yet secured his agreement, and would be dealing with the matter once the Gallan negotiations concerning Princess Lianne were concluded. Taren knew better than needlessly to prod a monarch understandably unsettled by a very disturbed and disturbing year, as well as negotiating a royal marriage, and was in any case wary of the King while he was still feeling his way into lordship of Stone Mountain, but that didn't stop him wishing devoutly that His Majesty would get on with it. Sighing, he settled himself to the problems he could do something about himself.

In the event Taren decided the King had done well by him, and by Stone Mountain. The man who rode in with a squad of maroon-clad soldiers, as November failed, was Svein of Hannalof, lately commanding at Eastwatch — nearing forty, Taren judged, tall and lean, with unruly black hair and shrewd eyes. Anticipating a military mind, Taren had sought advice from Captain Horgan, and made his briefing as crisp and clear as possible, setting out what his Father's policies and Genlith's methods had been, how he had changed them, and the sorts of problems that were arising, with the principles and parameters that guided his responses. Sam and Var chipped in where they had better first-hand knowledge, and Taren ended with some careful words about dealing with his mother and aunt, who both felt unable to face the social pressures they would inevitably have to endure in Corus.

"To be frank, Commander, while much improved they remain fragile. Save with regard to improving healer care for my common liegers, with which I have charged them both, neither will say much, if anything, about the running of the fief, but they will be concerned to know of what passes, and … domestic order, shall I say, is important to their peace of mind. If you could dine with them on any night when you are not otherwise committed, and perhaps take tea sometimes, I would be very grateful."

Those shrewd eyes glinted, and Svein nodded. "Of course, my lord. I shall be happy to do so. It must have been a very difficult year for both ladies." Taren appreciated the tactful understatement. "And thank you for the rest of your admirably clear briefing. Lord Saman and Lady Varia also. Having old and new policies set out like that is very helpful, and I confess I am pleased to have the new to enforce. May I ask how long you expect to be away, my lord?"

"I'm not sure, Commander. I have not yet had a reply from Countess Keladry, and it will depend on how we are received at New Hope, but if all goes well we expect to be there for a month at least." Svein's eyebrows rose, and Taren found himself explaining despite a slight sense of discomfort. "Besides some personal business with the Countess, I want to negotiate a contract with the Craftsbeings' Guild to improve mine safety and the like, but as yet I simply don't know what's possible or how long it might take. And we won't come directly back unless we must — we know little of Tortall beyond Stone Mountain, and it seems wise to take the chance when we have it. Do you have a deadline by which you will need to leave?"

"Not at all, my lord, unless the army should be returned to a war footing, all gods forfend. I remain in regular service, but with peace commanders are in less demand, and my secondment here is open-ended. I was merely enquiring. But I can assure you that Countess Keladry has already sent you a favourable response, so I will expect you to be away for most of next summer at least."

Taren blinked. "Has she come south, then? I understood she was remaining at New Hope this winter."

"She is, my lord. When the King asked me about this posting, he told me you meant to go to New Hope, and I later spoke to the Countess by spellmirror. She said she had been touched by your request, and warmly approved it, but that I would probably be here before her reply."

"Oh. Thank you. That's good to know." And it was, though Taren found his stomach feeling unaccountably hollow. "Um, _touched_ by my request, Commander? Can you say any more?"

"If you wish, my lord." Svein settled back a little in his chair, while Taren sat forward, seeing Sam and Var do the same. "I should say first that I do not know Countess Keladry well, by any means, but we do have a connection of a sort, in that one of her sisters, Lady Oranie, is married to my cousin Ortien. We only met during the war, though, at a commanders' conference held at New Hope." He gave a rueful smile. "Duty kept me away from the treaty signing, alas — someone had to look after Eastwatch — but I had the honour of attending her wedding at Midsummer, and as I had some leave I stayed for her coming-of-age party, and was still there when she and Count Domitan returned from their honeymoon."

"A honeymoon?" Var twitched in her seat. "That wasn't in any stories we heard. Where did they go? It can't have been far or for long, if they were back so soon."

Svein grinned. "You'd think, my lady, but it depends how fast you can travel. Everyone at New Hope knows, so it's no secret, but all the same, you might want to be careful whom you tell." He paused dramatically. "They went to the Dragonlands, for three days."

Taren caught his jaw in time, just, and Svein's grin became a laugh.

"I know. It sounds absurd, doesn't it? But by all accounts, that's Countess Keladry for you, always doing the unexpected in fine style. To be fair, though, it was as much business as pleasure, I believe — some Guild matter concerning their dragon apprentices."

"There are _dragon_ apprentices?"

"There are, my lady. Sixteen of them. I stopped by New Hope when I came south from Eastwatch, and met them. Quite a few are yet unfledged, like Lady Skysong, but some are flying and I gather all are already working and learning hard. New Hope has also been designated as a dragon embassy, officially to the Craftsbeings' Guild but more generally to the Mortal Realm. Astonishing. But to return to your question, my lord, the point is only that I had a chance to talk to the Countess over several evenings, and while I am no intimate of hers, I am a soldier senior enough to have to chew on army politics, so we did speak briefly of the challenges she has faced, and still faces, and Stone Mountain was mentioned."

"Ah." Taren met Sam's and Var's looks briefly. "I imagine, Commander, that my late half-brother's name may have arisen. Please don't hesitate to name him at need."

"Thank you, my lord." Svein looked a question. "His Grace of Wellam told me it should not be spoken to you."

"Usually, no. It was my first order after receiving oaths. But that was because my father and uncle were forever praising and lamenting him, and we were all … very weary of it. I meant to stop that here, not make for foolish obstacles to conversations I welcome." Taren shrugged slightly. "And it is partly to speak of him that I am going to New Hope."

"Ah. Then yes, my lord, the Countess did mention your late half-brother, though only in passing. Your father's legacy concerned her more. Forgive me, but she thought all his children must have had a difficult time, including Joren, and hoped the future would be brighter."

Taren caught his jaw again, feeling shock in his stomach. Sam and Var were also staring.

"She feels sorry for _Joren_? After everything he did to her?"

Svein moved a hand ambivalently. "I would say so, in some measure, my lord. She certainly spoke of him as a victim of your father's."

"She is generous." Taren heard the edge in his own voice and took a breath, settling himself. "And not wrong — I told my uncle he and my father had spoiled Joren. But frankly, Commander, none of us remember him with anything but relief that he's dead."

"Mmm." Svein's face was thoughtful. "That must be difficult for you. And I doubt the Countess would disagree, my lord. She certainly expressed no regrets. But she did say that she thought it should not have been the elemental's responsibility to stop an obviously unfit squire." He shrugged. "In any case, she was touched by your request because she hopes for a better relationship with you than was possible with your father and half-brother, but had not expected you to seek her out, and felt it boded well that you had."

"Ah. Thank you, commander. That is helpful to know." Curiosity leavened Taren's relief. "Did she say who _should_ have stopped Joren?"

"Not in so many words, my lord, but her argument was that squires who are grossly unchivalrous should not be allowed to attempt an Ordeal of Knighthood, so I would think she believes that responsibility fell to Sir Paxton, as his Knight Master, and Lord Wyldon as Training Master."

Taren had never met either man, though he had seen Sir Paxton once or twice when Squire Joren had returned to his home fief, but could not imagine anyone convincing his father of Joren's imperfection, and said so. The unwelcome thought occurred that he should probably offer both men apologies, as well as Countess Keladry, chased by a second and more interesting puzzle.

"Tell me, Commander, if you can, is it true that page-training is to change? I've heard talk of new warnings about chivalry."

Svein's expression became cautious. "I do not believe _training_ is to change in any significant way, my lord, but I heard the King speak to the Army Council about a correlation between the, ah, characters and habits of certain knights and the fact of their treason. It does seem that a particular contempt for women was an important bond between many of the traitors who died at New Hope or were subsequently tried in Corus."

Taren thought about it, and nodded. "That sounds right, Commander — I know both Genliths and both Runnersprings were scornful of all women. Both Torhelms also, though I never met them."

"You missed nothing, my lord. The Groten brothers too, and Heathercove. _Very_ unpleasant men. And the younger Marti's Hill was much the same, I gather, though we never met. General Vanget was certainly scathing about him. So there is understandable concern that such men should have become knights, and a greater emphasis on the demands of chivalry has been agreed."

"By?"

"Besides Lord Padraig haMinch and His Majesty I could not say, my lord. The Army Council was being informed, not consulted."

Taren wondered about the elemental's severe treatment of Vinson of Genlith, whom he remembered all too well as Joren's guest and fellow-tormentor, and would have liked to press the question, but could see Svein was uneasy with such a discussion in Var's presence, and let it go.

"Fair enough, Commander. And my renewed thanks for your assurance that we will be welcome at New Hope." He rang the servants' bell, and asked for tea to be brought. "Yet I confess the prospect is a little daunting. Is there anything else you can tell us about Countess Keladry?"

Var looked her gratitude, but Taren was just as curious as his sister about the woman shaking Tortall. Svein's mouth quirked a little.

"There are many things I might say, my lord. The Countess is a complex woman. It might be better if you were to ask questions."

Taren raised an eyebrow at Var, who gave him a smile and set to.

"I think we are all simply wondering what she is like, Commander. I realise it sounds vague, but until His Grace of Wellam came here we had only Joren's and our father's curses to go on, and His Grace spoke more about what she has done than who she is."

"As well he might my lady. And I am not sure one can so easily separate them." Svein paused, obviously thinking. "You will understand when you see New Hope." He shrugged. "But I know what you mean, and two tales come to mind. One is, ah, somewhat unpleasant, though."

He was looking at Var, who met his gaze.

"Please do not hesitate about any war story on my account, Commander. I have seen mine accidents."

When Svein's eyes flicked to his, eyebrows rising, Taren nodded. Var needed protecting from some things, but not from tales of gore.

"Very well, my lady. But it is only incidentally a war story. Mmm. I'll need to explain some background." He thought for a moment. "When Lady Keladry's report on Rathhausak was proclaimed, two years back, I was as pleased as anyone, for the rescued children and above all the end of the killing devices, which were vile beyond belief, but I confess I thought it all sounded very madcap. Her force was far too small for such a mission, and her success seemed very chancy. What Lord Wyldon had been thinking I couldn't calculate at all." Svein gave a small smile. "That winter was bitterly hard, so you can imagine that with us all huddling round the fire her deeds were much discussed."

"Did you reach any conclusion?"

"Only that for all it read like a field report, a good deal must have been omitted. The word among my soldiers was that she'd gone in defiance of Lord Wyldon's orders, not on them, which I cannot confirm but might explain a lot." Taren saw Var blink : _that_ had not been in any version they'd heard. "In any case, come spring, stories about her and New Hope started spreading along the frontier. All seemed beyond easy credence — that New Hope was impregnable, that immortals called her 'Protector', that she was single-handedly re-starting the northern trade — but there were also versions of what happened in Corus with Torhelm, and what she had sworn by gods' oath to be true. And you can imagine the difficulty everyone had believing _those_."

Taren had never been told the story directly by his father, who had returned from Corus white and speechless, but the men Horgan had sent with him had heard eyewitness accounts they had hastened to relay, and he nodded.

"Certainly, Commander. It was a great wonder. Wonders, really — to die and be sent back, and to call on three gods to strike a man down and be promptly answered."

"Just so, my lord. But General Vanget confirmed what had happened to Torhelm, citing the King as his witness, and assured me bluntly that many of the other stories were also true. There was also the news of Tirrsmont's conviction and that fief's dissolution, then of Lady Keladry's appointment to the King's Council in place of Torhelm. None of us knew what to make of it all. On a smaller scale, General Vanget also praised some very interesting standing orders he said Lady Keladry had devised, requiring me to institute them myself, and he doesn't flatter anyone. Nor does my cousin Uline, who'd met her as a page, and was also very complimentary, so I concluded that whatever had really happened in Scanra, and for all this strange business with the gods, she must be a genuine commander, not just a lucky knight. And when General Vanget told me that the commanders' conference was to be at New Hope, I looked forward to the visit. This was around Midsummer, a year back."

There was a pause while tea was brought in and served, and Svein commented on the excellence of the cakes.

"I shall have to watch my sweet tooth here, I see. You have a very fine cook, my lord. But to continue, the whole visit proved far stranger and more difficult than I had expected. I'm sure you heard as much from His Grace, but New Hope truly is an astonishing place — the defences would be impressive anywhere, and to have created them from nothing, in a valley unclaimed and uninhabited before the war, remains an amazing achievement. And yet they are the least of it. The greater surprise, speaking as a commander, was the intense personal loyalty Lady Keladry had won from everyone there, civilian refugees, regular and convict soldiers, and immortals alike, and it was on open display because there was a very awkward situation. Do you know about Captain Rogal?"

"The man who killed Sir Merric of Hollyrose?"

"Yes. It had just happened, during the Battle of Scything Wheat, and the court martial delayed the start of the conference. News of the battle itself came as a shock, in the ruthlessness and exceptional success of Lady Keladry's innovative tactics, as well as so many Scanrans surrendering, but the problem was Rogal. There was a fuss about his belated claim of noble privilege through the former lord of Runnerspring, that she cut through, and another when she appointed herself as headsman." Svein's hand again gave an ambivalent waggle. "Most of the senior commanders were … well, appalled wouldn't be too strong. In the proper way of things, no-one of her rank should have to act as a headsman, and she was — is — _very_ young for her responsibilities. So General Vanget decided the visiting commanders would stay until after the execution, to offer her support. But I found, rather to my surprise, that I strongly approved of her conduct — she was exactly right about the regulations involved, and right again not to order another to do something she was unwilling to do herself. And that is what matters, because she _was_ unwilling. She _hated_ the prospect of killing in cold blood. But she wasn't going to let that stop her from doing what she thought right. And when it came to it …"

His voice trailed away, seemingly lost in memory, and after a moment Sam broke the silence.

"When it came to it, Commander?"

Svein sighed. "It was a moment of grace, my lord."

"Grace?"

"Oh yes. It was done on the roadway, because Lady Keladry said she wouldn't stain New Hope's ground with Rogal's blood, and by all rights it should have been a horror — her adopted son and the seer Irnai walked with her, although both are yet children, she had a pail as well as her glaive, which looked absurd and no-one understood, and there were stormwings lined up on both sides, so they could feed on Rogal's fear." Taren felt the punch of that detail. "But it wasn't. I don't know what she said to him, but she swore a gods' oath — the chimes sounded for it — and whatever her truth was it made him kneel and offer his neck willingly, despite his fear. Her blow was exact. And then she knelt to vomit into the pail. I've never heard a deeper silence. But when she picked herself up she insisted that Rogal had died loyal and repentant, assuring everyone not only that the Black God had him safely, but that in death Sir Merric forgave him. Welcomed him, even." Svein shrugged. "How she knew I have no idea, and I've never dared to ask her, but I believed her. Everyone who heard her did. And it mattered. Sir Merric had been popular, and Rogal widely disliked, so there was a lot of anger and an ugly satisfaction that he'd been condemned, but his death left everyone … humbled, I think, and … I don't know, sorrowing more gently. There was quite a queue to pray at the shrines, afterwards. I went myself. And I found I believed absolutely that she had died, and met the Black God, and been sent back because Tortall needed her."

They thought about it for a moment while Svein busied himself with his tea before looking up at Var.

"So if you ask what Lady Keladry is like, my lady, I tell you first that she is more than exceptionally courageous, utterly ruthless at need, and a deadly opponent, though she is all of those in extraordinary measure, as well as a superb leader. She is also a woman of grace in a way beyond easy understanding." Unexpectedly Svein grinned. "Sometimes it's profoundly surprising. At her wedding I saw her greet an enormous dragon, two gods, and two hounds of the Wild Hunt without so much as blinking, despite having to wrangle Their Majesties and the Yamani Prince and his delegation. And a bunch of Scanrans who'd turned up to honour a clanchief. Superb self-possession. Yet she also received a wedding gift and a personal note of congratulations from yet another god, and responded by howling with laughter and, as best I understood what happened, composing a poem in Yamani that had Prince and delegation all hopping." Taren's head spun. "But it's more than all the astonishing things she does." Svein's face sobered. "His Majesty says that since her death and return Lady Keladry can hear the gods as the rest of us cannot. I do not disagree, but however strange it may sound, I think it is not only that she hears them, but that they hear her."

Taren didn't know what to make of that, and Sam and Var looked as uncertain as he must himself. Svein nodded.

"I know, but you asked, my lady, and there it is." He grinned again. "The Scanrans call her a dragonlord, meaning that if she meets one she can count on it talking to her, not killing her, and perhaps something similar applies to her relationship with the gods. Anyway, the second thing that came to mind is much simpler. Some months after the conference, General Vanget asked me to investigate the whereabouts and status of the family of a convict soldier stationed at New Hope. It was an unusual order, because the army is wary of mixing private business with official channels, but it does happen when there's reason, so I saw to it myself and forgot it. Until, a few weeks later, I received a letter of thanks from Lady Keladry, explaining why she'd made the request of General Vanget, and enclosing a letter from the soldier involved that left me speechless. My simple report had meant the world to him, quite literally. His story is not mine to tell, but I realised that Lady Keladry had acted not only as a good, a very good commander, caring for a man whose welfare was her responsibility, but in … well, precisely targeted kindness was how I thought of it. She'd bent regulations and leaned on General Vanget, just a little, because she realised that it truly mattered to her charge that she do so. And I tell you, my lords, my lady, such insight is a rare thing. So I also tell you that as well as her gods' grace, Lady Keladry is _kind_."

Svein hesitated for a moment, but went on. "This is awkward to say, but I would urge you to consider the burdens she bears in that light. Are you aware of how many Scanrans were killed assaulting New Hope?"

Taren frowned. "More than two thousand, according to the King's proclamation."

"Yes. Quite a lot more. And nearly five hundred Tortallan traitors as well. But what that proclamation did not say is that a significant majority of the Scanrans and most of the traitors died at Lady Keladry's own hands. She set off all the mageblasts personally — the blazebalm bombs and pit-traps — and controlled the dragonfire that finished off the assault. You will never meet anyone who has killed more men, and though she says nothing it was clear to me that it weighs heavily on her." He shrugged. "Every soldier who sees action must learn to live with having killed, and after the first time it's not so hard. But to deal death on _that_ scale is something else. And then to be celebrated and honoured for it … well, I can't imagine. But I did notice that she prays at the Black God's shrine every morning, and I doubt she only gives thanks for being returned."

It was testimony to leave anyone thoughtful, and Svein seemed to have said all he was willing to say, the conversation turning with Sam's questions to military organisation, and with Var's to the Guild. But as they broke to change for dinner there was one more thing Svein offered them all.

"When people first see New Hope and its immortal residents, they have to overcome fright. It's natural enough, but it has a corollary, that once they get over it they swing to the other extreme, and become fascinated. New Hopers call it Immortals' Intoxication, and while the immortals are polite about it, I strongly suspect they find it irritating. I know I would, in their place. If you can manage to avoid it, I think you'll find negotiations with the Guild easier. Just be practical — immortals seem to appreciate it."

It seemed wise advice, though Taren suspected heeding it would be a struggle, and during dinner he prompted Svein to tell reassuring tales of New Hope's immortals. Some were straightforwardly funny, including one about the griffin kit invading the kitchens when some river fish had been delivered that made him remember the Lord Magistrate's mutter, and others more puzzling. Packing rattling window frames with old spidren webbing was evidently effective, but how anyone had thought to try it was a mystery, and so was the greater civility of stormwings than centaurs, which seemed altogether the wrong way round. But overall, the tales had the desired effect, which was to allay the fears of his mother and aunt about their travelling to New Hope, and the prospect of immortals at Stone Mountain. Taren was generally pleased with the way Svein handled both women, at once gravely attentive and readily good-humoured. His age and military discipline were also welcome to them, and when he retired to his own rooms after dinner Taren didn't hesitate to write a brief note to the King thanking him for his care.

He and Horgan spent the next few days showing Svein around the town and introducing him, and his satisfaction grew. But evening conversations with Sam and Var, chewing over what Svein had told them — and Lady Keladry's letter, which had followed him by a day — were more troubled. Despite understanding abstractly what she must have meant, all of them had some difficulty digesting the idea that Countess Keladry truly saw Joren as a victim, worrying that their own lingering resentments, however understandable, would somehow incur her disapproval. Her letter seemed warm, saying that he and his siblings were very welcome to stay as long as they wished, but was otherwise brief, and Taren could imagine how busy she must be with a new fief to run as well as her army command. Most troublingly, her connection with so many gods, if long evident from the fate of Torhelm, had been given a new density and immediacy, a continuing condition in which the divine heeded her as much as she heeded the divine. Var's tart observation that however it may have been the gods' anger with necromancy that started their involvement, Blayce's death had clearly not ended it, rang uncomfortably true. Taren did try to seek advice from Tover, the senior priest in the town's Mithran temple, but found the man as unhelpful as ever, at once nonplussed by anything to do with Lady Keladry and unwilling to accept that Taren shared none of his father's prejudices, and so prone to bleat pietudes or retreat into wilfully vague theology. Several hours of it was more than enough, and Taren decided there was nothing he could do except be more punctilious about praying to and thanking the gods — which was fine until the afternoon before they were due to depart, when a Royal Messenger clattered through the gates to deliver a package with a letter from, of all unexpected people, Queen Thayet, whom he had met only briefly during his visit to Corus, and thought kind but unfathomable.

It was brought to him at a farewell tea with his mother and aunt, as well as Svein, so many eyes were on him as he broke the seal.

 _My Lord of Stone Mountain,_

 _Given your commendable concerns with New Hope, I though you might appreciate receiving a copy of this book before encountering the effects it is having in Corus, as on everyone who reads it. The second copy is, by Countess Keladry's request, for Svein of Hannalof, who will enjoy the whole, and the third, by my husband's command, for your father, who won't._

 _The commentary is as admirable as the original text, if considerably more alarming, but I direct your attention first and urgently to Countess Keladry's 'Note on Spiritual Warfare', which practises what it preaches. I do assure you, my lord, that_ _every_ _last paragraph is genuine, including the one that appears in all copies without being printed, and strongly advise you to read them in strict order. The surprise is much clearer that way._

 _Incidentally, it is confirmed that the Countess is with child, bearing twins to be expected in February, and while it seems to me probable, whether the trials of that condition had any effect on the striking austerity of her prose is moot. You might in any case wish to take some appropriate gifts with you._

 _His Majesty and I look forward to seeing you at my ball, and to meeting Lord Saman and Lady Varia, and wish you all safe and easy travels. Do please also convey my greetings and good wishes to your mother and aunt._

 _Thayet Jian Wilima of Conté_

Entirely puzzled, Taren passed the letter to Saman, to read aloud, and used his belt knife to open the package, finding three handsomely bound copies of something called _The Principles of Defensive Fortification_ by one Orchan of Eredui. The title page, however, was more helpful.

 ** _The Principles of Defensive Fortification_**

 **by**

 **Orchan of Eridui**

 **with**

 **a Commentary on Immortal Aid**

 **and**

 **a Note on 'Spiritual Warfare'**

 **by**

 **Countess Keladry of New Hope, Clanchief Hléoburh**

The Countess's use of her Scanran title as well as her Tortallan one was intriguing, and brief investigation suggested both why Thayet called the commentary terrifying, and what she meant about prose style. Opposite a passage where Orchan extolled the virtues of an abatis the Countess had remarked that _While the use of untrimmed trees is attractive, and particularly effective when petrified, basilisks can sharpen as well as create stone, giving a simple post of square section obsidian edges that will readily cut chainmail, and even plate armour if its wearer is careless_ and where Orchan discussed the proper proportions of alures and parapets, suggesting one foot of width for every two of height, she bluntly disagreed : _No alure should be less than six feet wide, and preferably at least eight, or those using slings from them will be as great a danger to their comrades as to the enemy ; greater width also allows better rotating volley fire by archers._ His understanding of what Svein had meant about Lady Keladry's ruthlessness expanded, but his thoughts were interrupted by a scandalised exclamation from his mother and a bland reply from Svein.

"Expecting in February? And only married at Midsummer!"

"Indeed, my lady. And others in Corus have made that calculation. But do remember that at Beltane, when the treaty was signed and the Count and Countess were handfasted, seven gods manifested. And four stayed to dine and dance. Such consequences are traditional."

Svein's voice was calm but invited no demur, and to Taren's relief his mother offered none : what his father or uncle would have made of Lady Keladry having an eight-months babe didn't bear thinking on, but it was not an issue _he_ was going to raise with anyone. His attention returned to the book, a much more interesting matter, and he turned pages carefully until he came to the 'Note on Spiritual Warfare'. He started to read, immediately struck by the crisp tone and phrasing, but when Var shifted to look over his shoulder he looked up to see everyone waiting on him, thought about handing the other copies round, and with a smile of apology instead started to read aloud. The 'Prefatory Remarks' were straightforward enough, if laced with warnings that brought sharp nods from Svein, but even with the first section of 'Prior Facts' tension started to build. Taren stumbled over the pronunciation of a Scanran word, _blódbeallár_ , welcoming Svein's correction.

"It means exactly what she says, my lord, the law of blood and fire. I heard about this from General Vanget but didn't entirely understand."

Taren pressed on, realising from interpolated paragraphs by Count Domitan and Sir Nealan of Queenscove — another whom Joren had frequently cursed and derided — how oddly self-effacing Countess Keladry's account was, but with the next section, 'Intermediate Developments', gods began to appear. That she had received a letter from Lord Sakuyo he had known from Svein, but not that it had affirmed her "being free of any god's touch" until Rathhausak ; and as he read on he could hear the deepening shock in his voice.

Under varying circumstances arising from my command at New Hope during 461 I met and spoke with Lord Weiryn, the Green Lady, the Black God, the Graveyard Hag, and the Great Goddess and with many at New Hope became one of Lord Sakuyo's Blessed, having heard his laugh among other High voices when shrines were dedicated. The circumstances prompting all this divine concern were (in so far as I understand them) specific to that time, and to Chaotic remnants of the Immortals War what has general relevance is my growing awareness of having a degree of leeway the gods would respect.

By 'leeway' I do not mean indulgence. Had I done anything abhorrent to or in defiance of divine conscience my punishment would have been condign. What I do mean is that, with all due care for that conscience and my own honour, I might at need and to proper ends seek to cast the shadow of the gods upon the enemy without fear of being denied.

I take leave here to remark that the many gods' various senses of humour are typically taken into far too little consideration, and piety cannot in itself substitute for appreciation.

Svein's huff of laughter and his mother's squeak made him look up.

"I'm sorry if I seem impious, my ladies, but I have seen Countess Keladry speaking with Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, and she is quite right that earnest piety has its limits. And you must concede that she speaks from more divine experience than anyone else has."

To Taren's surprise that won a smile from his aunt.

"Indeed, it seems we must, Commander. Countess Keladry has truly spoken with all those gods?"

"And more, my lady — besides those she has named, Lord Mithros, Lord Sakuyo, and Lady Shakith manifested when the Peace Treaty and her handfasting were blessed, and all spoke to her." Svein shook his head. " _To cast the shadow of the gods upon the enemy._ Literally. No wonder that Her Majesty said this book was affecting all who read it. Do please continue, my lord."

As Taren did, more immortals were named, with interesting details. Knowing Lord Diamondflame had lived for more than ninety centuries underscored his stark warning about presuming on dragons, and that stormwings had — somehow — analysed the Scanran forces for Lady Keladry won a furrowed brow from Svein. As events reached the siege itself the what, if not the how, of that analysis became clearer, but amid the wonders what struck Taren hardest was the mention of a ballad "in Old Ogric known among immortals by its short title, the _Song of the Surprise of the Petrified Giant who fell from the Outer Wall of the Citadel of Lord Sakuyo's Blessed known among Mortals as New Hope and so Proving during the Great Spiral of the Timeway that Concluded the Feud of Gods and Dragons concerning the Godslain of the Godwars_ ".

He had trouble not laughing aloud as he ploughed through the seemingly endless words, not daring to imagine what the long title must be like, but what mattered was that it was a _joke_ — and abruptly the Countess's earlier words about gods' senses of humour made more sense, for she had a sense of humour herself. In some part of his mind he realised that he, Sam, and Var had never thought of Lady Keladry laughing, only striving, fighting, and defending, and knew that would have to change a sense that deepened as the great and terrible joke she had played on King Maggur and the Scanrans was incrementally revealed. It had been possible only because gods and immortals had been _amused_ by it, not least because, although truly a joke, it had had a layered purpose at once merciful and ruthless, frightening conscripted soldiers to desert and driving coerced troops to invoke _blódbeallár_ so that it was Maggur's loyalists, on whom his power rested, who had to make the assault, and so could be (as the Countess flatly stated) "slaughtered in the killing field of the roadway by blazebalm, pit-trap, dragonfire, and innumerable volleys".

Her words about what it meant to use dragonfire against mortal flesh resonated with what Svein had said about the deaths that weighed on her, but his thoughts were brought up short by Sir Nealan's remarks rooting the Countess's mastery of spiritual warfare in the hostility she had faced as a page and squire, and asserting the connection between the traitors and bigotry against women. His voice flattened as he read them, a new clarity unfolding in his mind, and he looked up at Sam and Var.

"Summary annihilation. Lord Sakuyo said the gods didn't interfere before Rathhausak, not that they weren't watching carefully, or judging what they saw. But when they did act, they gave to Lady Keladry all those who had hated and slandered her without reason, that she could destroy them in all justice and with every reason. Joren was just a down payment."

Eyes widened and his mother gasped, hand rising to her mouth, but Var only cocked her head a little as she thought.

"Maybe, Tar. But that was the elemental."

"And two years later it was working with Lord Gainel and Lady Shakith."

"Huh." A slow smile crept onto Var's face. "I like it. Just a down payment. Let's hope the Black God told him so."

They had speculated before about how furious Joren must have been when he understood he'd failed his Ordeal, and though in his father's presence his mother had necessarily been all grief, she had privately been just as relieved as they were, and had equally found some pleasure in the thought of Joren's powerless discomfiture. He met her look, promising words in private later.

"That's quite a perspective you have, my lord." Svein's voice held a note of respect. "I suspect Countess Keladry would appreciate it. And I'm reminded it was she who killed Vinson of Genlith — with a shot at impossible range using a bow given her by Lord Weiryn. So perhaps he was another down payment."

Thinking of Vinson, that made sense to Taren, who nodded and began to read again, working through statements of immortal praise for the Protector to the final 'Observations'. They seemed straightforward at first, though the savage analysis of Maggur's unstable rule was striking, but what followed severely expanded Taren's understanding of just what divine jesting might mean. Lady Keladry's evident belief that however she had been an instrument of the gods, their jest was as much on her as through her, rang true, but to think of the cost to mortals of such jesting hurt. The blows he, Sam, and Var had taken from Joren were among them, but what Lady Keladry had borne was unimaginable. The differing perspectives offered by others helped, particularly the unexpected Scanran observation that what Clanchief Hléoburh called _jest_ they would call _justice_ , but as he turned the page and saw the final, calligraphic paragraph he felt the shock like a hammerblow.

 _Lord Sakuyo, deserving as often the last word, adds :_

 _My favourite daughter is a gem, isn't she? My jest needed a puissant female warrior, and Keladry-chan was shining so brightly to hand — so great in spirit she was much in favour with a dozen of my brothers and sisters, and a marvellous jester in her own right, not that she usually realises it. Only gods, of course, may appreciate my jest (and hers within it) in its full magnificence, though that shouldn't stop mortals trying, and we laugh at them still as you would, reader, could you see your own face at this moment, and be the better for it._

 _ **S.**_

Silently, Taren turned the book, holding it so the others could see. His voice cracked a little.

"The paragraph that appears in all copies without being printed, I presume." He looked at Svein, whose face was pale. "Is that _–chan_ suffix a Yamani honorific, Commander?"

"No. An endearment, for children. Or so Lady Oranie told me once. And the god calls her his favourite daughter."

"Yes. And much in favour with a dozen more." Taren's mind spun, and he checked the other copies, seeing the same exquisite calligraphy in all. "The same. _Everything_ she has done is divinely endorsed, with all she has said here. You were telling us, Commander, that all who were at New Hope knew it. Now everyone who can read will know it." Another thought burned. "My father abdicated because he realised it, and that he had been standing against the gods. How will others react to such knowledge?"

"Good question, my lord." Svein reached for the Queen's letter, which Saman had set down on a side-table. "Huh. Her Majesty is correct that the 'Note' practises what it preaches. And if Lord Sakuyo's contribution is the spearpoint, everything that leads to it gives it greater weight." He shook his head, as if to clear it. "I have heard accounts of the siege, and the illusion, from several eye-witnesses, but nothing like this. And the immortals endorse it also. But whether that means you will have more company at New Hope, or less, I cannot say. Nor what the effects in Corus will be, beyond profound shock and great wariness."

"No doubt. Var?"

His sister's smile was numinous.

"It doesn't matter, Tar, as long as _we_ go, just as soon as we can. Will you take our father his copy personally?"

Taren thought about it briefly, remembering the curt refusal of explanation when Burchard had told him of his decision.

"No. He can discuss it with himself."

Var smiled again.

"So he can. But do please ask your messenger to go via Margaram, to read it to Uncle Henchard."

Sam's eyes lit up, as did Aunt Lily's, and Taren thought his own probably had as well.

"With pleasure, Var."


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 3: Chapter Two - Delays and Conversations Chapter Text

 **Two : Delays and Conversations**

 _Corus, December 463 – May 464 HE_

THE southern winter was proving mild, for a second year running, and though long days in the saddle were a challenge the journey to Corus was fascinating for all of them. Sam and Var had never left Stone Mountain before, their father having had no interest in providing costly amusement for the children of his second marriage, and Taren had only been to the capital once, when the King had summoned him to confirm his inheritance and receive his oath of loyalty. It was almost a week's ride, following the River Petren to its confluence with the Olorun, on the trade-road built to take Stone Mountain's ashlar and ingots, and then joining the much more crowded Great East Road. On the trade-road they had been the largest party by far, with their servants and a ten-strong guard detail, and the Stone Mountain sigil had commanded attentive service at the inns ; but on the wide artery of the Great East Road there were, even in this winter season, long caravans headed to and from from Galla, Tyra, and Tusaine, most with substantial guard companies who saw them through the risky bits of the borderlands, and no-one seemed to receive much more than curt civility from any of the busy innkeeps and ostlers.

Though more than a little preoccupied with the prospects of a festival season that drew most high-ranking nobles, Taren was kept distracted and amused by Sam's and Var's questions and observations. New landscapes were a pleasure to all, and though they were cautious so were new faces at the inns : merchants, who politely made themselves known and pointedly did not enquire after his father, families travelling for Midwinter, cautiously deferential to a strange noble, and even a Bazhir horse-trader, returning south with some Gallan stock. But business intruded a little. Var had been struck by the condition of the trade-road, talking to surprised carters and seeing for herself how the straining hooves of the mules and bullocks that drew the heavily laden wagons poached the surface, while the wide wheels crushed and scattered what gravel had been laid. Reserving any decision until he could properly assess costs, Taren nevertheless agreed with her that more wagons with lesser loads might travel more swiftly and once or twice, seeing wagons that were clearly short-teamed, he did intervene to subsidise additional draft animals, telling the carters plainly that he would not see creatures beaten for being unable to do the impossible.

On the Great East Road wider questions proliferated, provoked by the sheer variety of costumes and faces, and when Taren could not answer, one of the guards usually could. They were not the same squad his father had used as an escort, Taren wanting no silent comparisons, but all had made the journey often and knew the capital well. Watching Sam and Var soak up knowledge was a pleasure, and doing so himself rewarding, but with the time to think that riding allowed Taren was increasingly aware of just how dangerous their father's legacy of neglect was, how skewed the view from Stone Mountain that was all they had been allowed. When he had first travelled to Corus in July he had been dazed and preoccupied by events, as well as hurrying to answer the King's terse summons, but with greater leisure he began to see many things more clearly. In Stone Mountain, though the demands of mines and quarries for labour ought to have brought variety, darker skins and languages other than Tortallan were rare ; but the Tortall that flowed around them on the great road was a rich mix, with accents so strong and varied that Common was a helpful alternative. And where he, Sam, and Var felt instinctively wary of so much that was unknown, others seemed hardly to notice the strangeness. Playing leapfrog one day with a party of Corus merchants returning from some tradefair, Taren lost count of the languages they seemed to speak between them, and felt his mood darken.

Before Joren's death he had thought of his father's prejudices only as they affected his siblings — the disappointed contempt for the brown hair and eyes, and medium heights, they had all inherited from their mother, with a rigid traditionalism that had scorned her interests in the fief as much as proper lessons for Var, the very existence of the Queen's Riders, and the upstart baseborn wanton who fouled knighthood by presuming to seek it for herself. But once Taren had so unexpectedly become the heir, and found himself alternately ignored and fiercely lectured (or hectored, where his uncle was concerned) about the purities he must maintain to preserve Stone Mountain as they thought it ought to be, an astonishing, crippling narrowness had become ever more evident. In his father's view, the House of Conté had been debased by Queen Thayet's foreign blood, and again by Prince Roald's Yamani marriage — and when Taren had asked if the alliances involved did not strengthen Tortall he had been scorned for such stupidity, but not, he noticed, answered. And it was not only foreigners who were uniformly bad : Bazhir were not to be trusted, nor grubby northerners like the haMinches who were all but Scanrans, nor grasping merchants who should be left to Genlith to deal with, nor, it seemed, anyone except the noblest houses of the Book of Gold, and these days by no means all of them. Women existed only to warm beds and bear children, commoners to provide necessary labour, and servants to obey in silence ; none could or should be trusted in anything.

Taren knew better than to point out the inconsistencies with the way his father relied on Genlith and his factors, and Captain Horgan, never mind the personal servants of his chamber ; but he had begun to realise how politically extreme, and isolated, his father truly was. The lectures and diatribes always implied that Stone Mountain's strict maintenance of tradition was not only right but normal, the proper way of things all decent Tortallans naturally supported but the names of those supporters were always the same few — Genlith, Runnerspring, Torhelm — while those denounced as radicals and subversives included almost everyone else, from Their Majesties down. And among those supposedly deserving only scorn were names Taren knew should give _anyone_ pause — not only very powerful nobles, like the Lords of Goldenlake and Legann, but the Lioness, who had dared to win the Dominion Jewel and end Duke Roger's necromancy Master Numair, whose power as a mage could hardly be measured and his Godborn Wildmage wife, who was said to be able to take the shape of any animal, and converse with all. Taren did not doubt his own ignorance of much that mattered, but whatever his father and uncle said, these were not people it could be wise to call enemies.

And now he felt the truth of that ever more deeply. For anyone inheriting as he had done, still nearly three years short of his full majority and under strange circumstances, growing into his new duties would be difficult and for him that was capped by a wretched legacy that put Stone Mountain not only on the wrong side of politics, tainted by proximity to treason, but (he was grimly certain) on the wrong side of the gods. In the days since reading Countess Keladry's book he had begun to trace the pattern, from her family's Yamani connections and experience of Yaman, where she must first have encountered Lord Sakuyo, to her friendships with the Wildmage, who was Lord Weiryn's and the Green Lady's daughter, with the Lioness, chosen of the Great Goddess, and with the young seer she had saved in Scanra, chosen of Lady Shakith. Conversely, Genlith had bent Stone Mountain's resources and skills to support the vilest necromancy, offending the Black God, and Torhelm had slandered Lord Mithros sufficiently blasphemously to be struck down nor could strident, hateful opposition to Countess Keladry's knighthood have helped, when the God of Justice and War so strongly favoured her. All in all, Taren doubted it would have been possible for his father to act any more blindly and purely _stupidly_ than he had and if his resignation of Stone Mountain was as much as the fool could do to offer a clean slate, it was also profoundly an act of cowardice, refusing to face the ghastly mess that he, Taren, must somehow clear up. All he could do was pray, and he did, often, but to him the gods were as silent as they seemed eloquent to Countess Keladry.

Sam and Var noticed his dour mood, and he confessed some of its causes but held others back, not wanting to worry or distract them with concerns they could do nothing about. Sam understood enough to have some sense of the challenges, but Var refused to be less than cheerful, and had a confidence Taren wished he could share.

"What do we know, Tar? But I don't believe the gods will punish you for anything you didn't do yourself. Most people don't get any answers from them. And if they're definitely watching anywhere, it's New Hope, so when we get there they'll know you're trying to do right by the fief, and everyone you can."

"Maybe so, Var. But maybe not. I have a lot of apologies to make, not least to the gods, and no assurance they'll do any good."

" _She_ says we're welcome. Others will heed her."

It struck Taren as richly ironic that whereas for the three of them _he_ had always been Joren, _she_ was now Countess Keladry. And wouldn't Joren just hate that? Deep within himself he knew that, however right in defence of Stone Mountain, seeking _her_ friendship was also another way to wipe dead Joren's eye. His half-brother's corpse had been returned to Stone Mountain packed in salt, to be interred in the ornate family mausoleum with every possible ritual, and his father had spent _months_ fussing about the effigy, a hateful and extravagant perfection in white marble and thick gold leaf once his father had departed to the mountain hermitage where he now dwelt, Taren had managed not to order its defacement, but there had been moments when the desire to do so had burned in his heart. He knew he should let it go, but there were too many constant reminders of Joren's culpability for his own predicament.

Corus itself thus came as almost a welcome challenge. Noble status allowed them to bypass wagon-trains, using the military lane from the East Gate through Prettybone and over the Kingsbridge, where their identities were asked, but much of Palace Way seemed to have been dug up, with many side-streets, and no-one was moving fast. As they crawled past a deep trench Taren saw his senior guard, Vesker, dismount briefly for an exchange with the man supervising the work, and once they were through Patten into Upmarket, and the crowds eased, he caught up and came alongside.

"Sewers and water pipes are being extended into the Lower City, my lord, and they're pushing on until the weather turns. Seems that with the war over the King's feeling generous, and decided he'd give his poorest subjects a present."

The victory proclamation had specifically mentioned the courage of convict soldiers at New Hope, which usually meant purses in the offing, and there had been many of those soldiers on the casualty roll, quite a few of whom must have come from the Corus slums. Even so, Taren was surprised at such a practical and costly collective reward.

"Interesting. Thank you, Vesker. Are people happy about it?"

"Not about the delays, my lord, but I'd think so. With those icelights they've put up too, it'll make a big difference."

"The Lower City has icelights already?"

"First place they done after Palace Way, my lord. I heard tell the Lady Knight demanded it. The Countess, I should say."

Turomot's words about Lady Keladry demanding as well as embodying change came back to Taren, but he had no time to pursue the thought as they turned into Upmarket High and shortly the mews of the townhouse. _His_ townhouse, however odd it seemed. As a Councillor his father had been entitled to rooms at the Palace, but had always preferred his own roof — an idiosyncracy for which Taren, neither Councillor nor otherwise entitled, could only be grateful. He had met the staff when giving his oath, and found himself warmly greeted. Sam and Var were given covertly appraising looks that softened with their courtesy — they had all sworn long ago never to treat servants as _he_ did — and bags were soon unpacked, allowing them all to change from dusty road clothes.

After a visit to the Temple District to give thanks for safe travel, and demonstrate a proper heed for the gods, outfits for the Queen's Ball were the priority, especially for Var, who had never had any genuine finery and on her suggestion, after consultations with Horgan and others who knew Corus, Taren had written a _very_ carefully worded letter to Lalasa Weaver, enclosing measurements, stating preferences for colours and style, and asking for advice. He had worried that his name would make him unwelcome, but the reply had been only a business-like acceptance of noble custom, with a request to call for fittings as soon as they might, so once they had all had some tea and enough food to tide them over, they set out. Given the dug-up roads, walking seemed the better option, as Vesker agreed, and if progress was again slow, it gave them time to look around. The Temple District was impressive, putting its equivalent at Stone Mountain to shame, and Taren was vaguely heartened by the simple act of prayer in such surroundings, but there was as little reply as ever, and they soon headed back into the city. Walking down Palace Way both Sam and Var were wide-eyed, and though preoccupied Taren was not immune to the fascination of window displays and human bustle, but he was also conscious of the way people registered a noble party with guards and gave way. Var saw it too, and having skipped slightly ahead made a point of waiting at one bottleneck, waving on an old woman who hesitated to come through, then thanked her with a surprised look.

Vesker's recommended shortcut through the Daymarket proved a distraction, and Tar surrendered to the smell of bubbly pies, treating the guards as well as his siblings, as well as noting several stalls he'd like to explore but Var was not to be diverted from the prospect of a real ballgown and they soon found themselves outside the premises in Stuvek Street where the woman everyone agreed was the best seamstress in Tortall did her work. Taren had no idea what to expect, but was impressed the shop was neatly kept, there were extra mats to cope with mud from the roadworks, a clerk greeted them promptly, and finding they came by invitation found them chairs and offered tea.

"Mrs Weaver is with Her Grace of Naxen just now, but I'll let her know you're here, my lords, my lady. She shouldn't be long."

And she wasn't. They'd barely finished the tea when a stately older woman sailed out, glancing at them with a slight frown and a half-nod as she passed, and they were asked to come through, finding themselves facing a short, dark woman with generous curves and careful eyes in an open face.

"My lord of Stone Mountain, Lord Saman, Lady Varia." She offered a curtsey, he returned a short bow, and something flickered in her eyes. "I'm Lalasa Weaver. I have some things for you each to try."

"You undertake men's clothing as well, ma'am?"

"Sometimes, my lord." Mrs Weaver's mouth turned up a little. "I've sewn enough breeches and tunics in my time, however I prefer gowns." She gave a slight smile that somehow had an edge to it. "And I've no objection to securing new customers, my lord. Your father did not care to patronise my business."

Though surprised by her directness, Taren didn't hesitate to take the opening.

"I don't imagine he did, ma'am, given his, ah, beliefs. But besides my not sharing them, and wanting the best possible for my sister, he did in the end realise he had been mistaken about many things."

"Did he, my lord?" Her look was guarded. "I confess I was much surprised by the news that he was stepping aside."

"You weren't the only one, ma'am. No-one expected it, least of all me." Taren took a deep breath, determined to begin righting what he could. "And while he offered no proper explanation, ma'am, to me or anyone else, he did tell me that I should heed Countess Keladry, as he had never done. There's precious little else of his advice I aim to follow, but I shall be doing that." Another breath, seeing surprise in her eyes. "And while I know only what was said at the trial, ma'am, it's very plain that you are owed Stone Mountain's fullest apologies for the behaviour of my late half-brother, and for what little it may be worth, I do so apologise." Taren offered a deeper bow, seeing Sam echo it and Var curtsy. "Joren's treatment of you was grotesque and unpardonable, and if there is ever anything I can do to make it up to you, please do not hesitate to ask."

She returned a curtsey, eyebrows high. "Huh. So Lady Kel was right, again."

Taren barely caught the words spoken under her breath as she pulled a bell-cord, but within a few seconds chairs were brought in, they were invited to sit, and more tea was served, Mrs Weaver regarding him with bright eyes.

"I'm truly busy at this season, my lord, but it seems a proper conversation is in order. May I speak frankly?"

"Please do, ma'am. I doubt you can say anything of my late half-brother that each of us has not thought."

"Then I'll say first that that's an apology I never expected to hear, my lord, and worth a great deal to me, so I take it as it's meant, and I thank you for it. Your half-brother was a _ghastly_ boy, as cruel as he was smooth, and I can't say I don't think he got what he deserved. But there are two things, my lord. One is that his doing was none of yours, and I'll not blame anyone for another's deeds. My lady taught me better than that. And however awful it was at the time, all tied up on that dreadful tower with poor Jump, good came of it in the end, so I'm not repining."

Taren felt bewildered, and could see the same confusion on Sam's and Var's intent faces.

" _Good_ came of it? How so, ma'am?"

Mrs Weaver smiled, warmly. "To hear my lady tell it, more ways than anyone but the gods can count, my lord. But for myself I can say it was only the fine she was paid that meant she could help me to start my business, for one, and for another it was what happened at the trial that got the law changed so all servants are better protected. That was my lady too, of course, telling His Majesty to shape up, but as she says, if there hadn't been a trial she couldn't have done it."

"Ah." Taren swallowed, struck by the irony of the fine Joren had incurred having such effects, and adding it to the growing tally of things _he_ would have hated. "I don't believe that tale made it to Stone Mountain, ma'am. Countess Keladry told His Majesty to _shape up_?"

She dimpled. "She did, my lord — told him to his face that what had happened made servants no better than slaves, valued in coin, not justice. I didn't hear it myself, of course, but Her Majesty did, and told me about it later, with how the Lord Magistrate had been so cross with Squire Joren he was all for a change he'd have hated otherwise."

Var was frowning. "But surely the Countess was only a squire herself, then, ma'am, wasn't she?"

"She was, my lady, but she never did let anything stop her doing what she thinks right, and she still doesn't, all gods be thanked."

Mrs Weaver looked pious for a moment, then shook her head slightly. "But that's another tale, my lord, and must wait on another day." She took a breath. "What's for today is that when I received your letter I was that surprised I asked Her Majesty about you, and she let me use the spellmirror to talk to my lady. And _she_ said she'd had one herself, offering apologies you didn't owe and asking if you and your brother and sister could visit New Hope, so I should feel easy and do as I would." A faint flush came to Mrs Weaver's cheeks. "I confess I had my doubts, my lord, but I see I should have known better. My lady's always right, for all she protests she's not. And you've done handsomely today, so all's well, but time's pressing, and we should see about the gown for Lady Varia and the outfits for you and Lord Saman."

Taren wouldn't have minded talking for longer, not least because Mrs Weaver's observation about Duke Turomot's rage with Joren's behaviour at his trial was resonating with some things the Lord Magistrate had said that he hadn't quite understood at the time, but the plea of busy-ness was clearly genuine, and the clothing truly mattered. They were ushered into a further room, with cubicles for privacy, and in moments were all examining one another in outfits that were as gorgeous as they were flattering. The huge smile on Var's face as she fingered the material of her gown was a warmth in Taren's heart, as in Sam's, and they were both well pleased on their own accounts with Stone Mountain tunics in finer materials and far better cuts than they had. Nodding, Mrs Weaver made some brisk tucks and pinnings, and jotted herself a note, Taren noting a grace of movement that somehow suggested muscle.

"Your instructions were clear, my lord, but some adjustments are always needed. They'll be ready to pick up tomorrow."

They changed back, and before they could be ushered out Taren looked Mrs Weaver in the eye.

"Thank you, ma'am, for _everything_." She nodded, with a small smile. "And as we're in Corus well into the new year, we'll be back, if we may. My sister's never had any proper lady's clothing, and to be frank we could do with a whole wardrobe for her, good travelling clothes as well as finery. My own wardrobe's pretty limited, too, and my brother's."

"Never any finery, my lady?"

She sounded scandalised.

"None, ma'am." Var shrugged. "Our father didn't much care about us until Joren died."

"Well, that's not right, my lady. Not at all. I can't do much before the King's Ball, my lord, I'm that busy with orders. But once the festivities are over there'll be a lull. You come along then, and we'll get you all properly fixed up."

Taren agreed, then noticed a look on Var's face and raised an eyebrow at her. She swallowed, and looked up — only just, he noticed — at Mrs Weaver.

"I don't mean to hold you up, ma'am, but I was wondering about your self-defence classes." Var's words came in a rush. "Taren got me some training with a knife, but Captain Horgan, our senior man-at-arms, wouldn't do much more with me, so I wondered if I could join one while I'm here in Corus."

Taren could have kicked himself. Of course Mrs Weaver would have muscle, and the tale of the classes she'd started for women was one of Var's favourites. The lady gave Var a wide smile.

"Of course you can, my lady. I'll have a word to see who has space, and let you know tomorrow."

Then they were being shown out, but Taren paused as he heard Mrs Weaver's voice sharpen in addressing a plump woman who seemed indignant at something.

"Well I'm sorry you had to wait, Mrs Dyer, but I had other business that wouldn't. And we've all to put up with the mud, but it's well worth it. Show her through, please, Dani, and I'll be with you in a moment."

When she turned back to them, offering farewells, he smiled at her ruefully.

"I'm sorry if we've caused you a difficulty, ma'am."

"Not to fret, my lord. I'm only fitting her in as a favour to my husband anyway, but there's no pleasing some."

"No, though the mud must be a trial for you, while all this digging-up continues."

"Not really, my lord. It's just mud." Her look sharpened. "Do you know why His Majesty's doing it?"

Taren frowned. "A reward for the service given by the convict soldiers at New Hope, I gathered. I confess I was surprised by the … practical generosity, I suppose."

A smile lit Mrs Weaver's face. "And well you might be, my lord. He asked my lady what she wanted as a wedding gift, and she told him to spend whatever six months of war would cost him making a lasting difference in the Lower City. Until tomorrow, then, my lord."

She was gone before Taren could gather his thoughts, but Sam and Var had heard, and as they walked home he drew Vesker into their conversation. In his concerns with his own relations with the King, and putative relations with Countess Keladry, Taren had not thought through _her_ relations with His Majesty, but the tale of her telling the King to _shape up_ to change the law, backed by the news of the gift she'd asked for, demanded he do so now. Mrs Weaver's evident familiarity with Her Majesty had also struck them all, but, as Var pointed out, dress-fittings were in their own way an intimate business, and she also remembered, as he had not, that Her Majesty had sent all the women who worked at the Palace to the self-defence classes.

"I can't be sure, Tar, but I think it all started after what the elemental of the Chamber did to Vinson. Uncle was shouting something at Aunt Lily about women being taught to resist their betters, and Tortall going to the bitches, but Briana caught me listening and sent me away so I'm not sure I got it all straight."

Vesker coughed, and Taren looked at him enquiringly.

"Pretty much, my lady. I've heard tell 'Er Majesty came down very 'ard on the senior servants after she found out what had been going on, with maids being 'arassed and all, but it was a year or two later that all the women were sent to Mrs Weaver's classes. And I'm sorry I missed that about the Lower City works being a wedding gift to the Countess, my lord. That supervisor didn't mention it at all, but I'll ask about this evening, unless you need me."

The road and all the excitement of arrival having tired them all, they had every intention of an early night, so Taren nodded, and the next morning, after they'd eaten, Vesker confirmed the tale.

"All true, my lords, my lady, but only 'alf the story. The works in the Lower City are 'Is Majesty's wedding gift to the Countess, and what she asked him for, by all accounts. ' _Er_ Majesty's gift is an annual scholarship for a girl to train as a knight, and it's open to all, no matter the rank. I gather a proclamation's been sent out to all fiefs, but it must 'ave passed us on the road."

"It's open to commoners?"

"It is, my lady. If you've the will and the skill, they said, you can try for it. There'll be an open test sometime in the spring." Vesker waggled a hand. "I dunno as many commoners would want, my lord, and they'd have an 'ard road, but the scholarship's all found, I'm told, 'orse and armour and all, so there's plenty of lesser noble 'ouses as might be interested."

It was, Taren realised, yet more of the change Countess Keladry was bringing, seemingly to everything. His uncle's tirades had included vicious complaints about the female pages who'd been inspired by seeing her joust to follow in her footsteps, and he remembered Var's pleasure at the idea, but hadn't thought about money rather than conservatism as an obstacle for such girls. Nor had Var, for it had never been cost that hemmed what she was allowed to do. But plainly _she_ had, and had acted on it, thinking of others when she could have asked for something of personal benefit. That rang a bell, and after a moment he realised it was exactly what she said about spiritual warfare, that it had better be practiced for the benefit of all, not on one's own account — the very opposite of his father's views.

The point was driven home by the self-defence class Mrs Weaver arranged for Var to join, held weekly in a hall behind the temple of the Great Goddess, and led by a woman who was a Provost's Dog. He and Sam went with Var the first time, more in curiosity than anything else, and both were struck by how varied those attending were. At least half were women from the Lower City, but there were also several priestesses, a scattering of palace servants, some merchants' wives and daughters, and a striking older woman with golden-brown skin who turned out to be the new ambassador from the Copper Isles — reminding him that the Lioness and others were absent because they were attending the new _raka_ queen's coronation in Rajmuat. Some women were more advanced, and were set to practising with one another while the leader worked with Var and others starting out. The brisk account of male vulnerabilities made him wince, but demonstrations of how to break a man's hold, evade a grasp, twist away, and buy yourself time to run or shout for help were compelling — as was the explanation given by the leader when they fell into conversation.

"Their Majesties were already doin' a fair bit, my lord, sponsorin' the temple guardians and suchlike, but it was all about other people protectin' women. What Lal and the Lady Knight — the Countess, I mean" — she waved a hand — "it's hard to keep up, but what they saw was how back to front that all was, and how teachin' women to defend themselves was the better way." She gave him a sidelong glance. "We've not had many nobles, though. Too rough and tumble, I s'pose."

The question was implicit, and Taren nodded.

"I dare say you're right, ma'am, though I've little experience outside my own fief. But my sister had a hard time when she was younger, from our half-brother, and we've no-one who could teach her this kind of thing, so I'm glad of it here."

"Ah." He received a crooked grin. "Good on you, then, my lord."

"Your superiors don't object to your doing this?"

"They did at first, my lord, but not now. It works too well, and makes our job easier." She shrugged. "There's always some man stupid enough to have a go, but a bite or a broken nose is hard to hide, and the last few who've tried it found themselves up before the magistrates real quick. They're backin' us too, with hard sentences. And those are the lucky ones."

"How so, ma'am?"

"The unlucky ones are them as the Rogue gets to first. He don't like men who hurt women, not at all, and you don't want to know what his sentences are like."

She broke off to correct a problem with someone's stance, and Taren was left to wonder at the teeming implications and the extent of his own ignorance. He cautiously asked Vesker that evening, and was astonished to learn that not only was there a chief of Corus's thieves, the man was tolerated and even respected. Vesker shrugged.

"There'll always be thieves, my lord, and it's better to 'ave 'em kept polite, like. And that dog was right enough that this one's cruel 'ard on anyone who 'urts a woman."

"You object, Vesker?"

"Not me, my lord. I don't 'old with that sort of thing." Vesker hesitated but went on. "I don't mean to overstep, my lord, but there's tales that the Countess went to see 'im last Midwinter, when Mrs Weaver was married, and that 'e went north for 'er wedding."

"True tales?"

"I reckon so, my lord. I'm told the families of those convict soldiers serving at New 'Ope have all been welcomed there, and that Uinse, who was in on the rescue in Scanra, is Captain of the Citadel. Never met him myself, but 'e was a Corus man, right enough, before 'e got sent to the mines, so there's surely folks she and the Rogue both know."

The picture in Taren's head remained irritatingly vague, for he simply did not know enough about how such an improbable friendship might work, and worried about the implications, feeling that any connection with self-confessed criminals, however slight, might rebound on him with other lords ; but when he broached it with Var that evening she was again cheerfully unconcerned, and with fair reason.

"Everyone at the class is respectful, Tar, Her Majesty supports all the classes strongly, as _she_ does, and the temple." Var shrugged. "No doubt Father would be furious, but he's gone, so what do you care?"

Put like that Taren found he had no real answer, only a general unease, and decided that if Var was happy with it all, as she clearly was, he'd just have to deal with any problem as and when it arose. Besides, it wasn't as if he didn't have better things to do than worry about ifs and maybes. But he did cautiously seek out Sir Myles at the Palace next day, to offer a mild apology for his calculated over-reaction with the oily merchant and trail a question about the Rogue, being blandly told that of course the Protector had been to see that gentleman, as she had been about to protect Her Majesty during a visit to Jane Street for the Weavers' wedding, and was besides insisting that the City Wardsmen install icelights that were not so popular with thieves. Such contact was, he added, a right of the Protector not a matter of noble privilege, and Taren found himself subtly reassured, though his sense of _her_ complexity had grown again, and with it a determination to find some more complete answers.

One place that might offer them, and to which they all went on their first Sunday in Corus, after visiting the temples, was the house that had been Genlith's and was now the king's. The ground floor had been stripped of furnishings, but its large reception rooms housed a greater treasure — two sets of icelight panels that told the tales of Haven and the rescued children, and of New Hope. Colours had somehow been set into the petrified ice, and the simple but vivid images managed to suggest far more than they actually showed. One was divided into three by a curling V : on the left Lady Keladry fought a tauros from horseback, others lying already slain while one charged her from behind within the V she faced a hooded figure gleaming silver and on the right she stood beside a great spidren, seven tauroses and a crumpled human figure lying dead before them. Being returned by the Black God was truly wonderful, but did mean dying first, and Taren wondered what such agony might teach, and whether the pain stayed fresh in memory, or faded as his mother said the pain of childbirth did. Another showed the defeat of the traitors' attack, splashes of fiery orange tearing apart their straggling column, and was followed by the defeat of the giants, a vast stone-grey figure, missing most of its head, toppling back from the outer wall while others looked on from below and a basilisk from above. By each was a card naming what was depicted and sometimes adding other information — what sunbirds were, and, pointedly, that the killing devices and trebuchet (which if to scale had been _enormous_ ) had been made with the connivance of the traitor Genlith, in whose former house they stood.

To walk the two sets of panels in proper sequence was a moving experience, and left Taren with a keener sense of just how much Lady Keladry had endured of how relentlessly events had come upon her over the twenty months between the sack of Haven and her victory at New Hope. How it had aged her was visible, for in the first panels her face was more open, a little rounder, but in the last few the figure who stood over seated men at a negotiating table, faced seven radiant gods, and looked down from a high place on her fief, seemed sterner, face thinned and eyes more deeply set. He was also reminded of how young she was, only three years his senior by birthdate, but the gulf between the little he had seen and done in those years, and all she had achieved, mocked him. A sense that closeness in age mattered as much as the disparity of experience nagged at him, but despite thought and prayer, as well as several further visits to see the panels, he could never quite grasp why that might be so, nor name what eluded him.

Before they knew it the beginning of the Midwinter festivities was upon them, and with it the Queen's Ball. In arranging sparring sessions for himself and Sam with members of the King's Own, Taren had been able to show his siblings around the outer parts of the Palace complex, including tiltyard and stables, but the great hall was new to them all. The confidence bestowed by finery — Mrs Weaver having done them proud — was qualified by the sheer throng of people arriving, all in their best, but despite the loud buzz of conversation the line waiting for admission was orderly and cheerful. The Stone Mountain sigils on his and Sam's tunics drew many curious looks, but no questions until they took their place behind a solidly built man with a slightly pocked face, who flicked a glance and turned, eyebrows rising as he took them in.

"Lord Taren?"

Taren nodded, warily.

"Imrah of Legann."

"My lord."

Bows were exchanged, hands shaken, and Saman and Varia properly introduced, Imrah's gaze openly assessing. Taren might have bridled, but the Count of Legann had every right to be curious, so he schooled his features to blankness and saw Imrah grin.

"Sick of being inspected, my lord? No help for it, I'm afraid. For all the recent turnover it's not often a fief as important as Stone Mountain gets a new lord, and never one as little known in Corus. It'll pass."

"So I must hope, my lord. And we have our own curiosity."

"I bet. When did you arrive?"

"A week ago, my lord. We couldn't leave Stone Mountain until Commander Svein was settled in."

"Svein? Oh, Hannalof, yes. I heard the King had sent him along to you. Good choice." Imrah's gaze swung. "First time in the city, my lady?"

"It is, my lord."

"And what d'you make of it all?"

"It all seems rather wonderful, my lord, with so much variety. Stone Mountain always seemed big, but I think it won't when we go back."

"You're right about that, my lady." Imrah smiled. "Wisdom as well as beauty, I see." Var blushed, and Imrah quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't mean to embarrass you, my lady."

"Oh, no, my lord. I'm just not used to such compliments."

"Really? Can't see why not. Unless …" Imrah's gaze intensified. "Did your father disapprove of your not being blonde?"

Var's flush answered for her, and Imrah snorted.

"Forgive me, my lady, my lords, but count it a blessing you don't look like Burchard. Or Joren."

Taren found his voice. "Oh, we do, my lord, believe me." He took a breath. "You must have known our father well?"

"Only over the Council table, and at this sort of thing. We didn't move in the same circles otherwise." Imrah shrugged. "I'm a traditionalist, in most things, but not a conservative of your father's stripe. And he never forgave me for supporting Thayet, nor for cheering Alanna on when she killed Duke Roger. Both times."

Taren blinked, parsing his history, and took a chance despite the people listening. "Our father never spoke very clearly about that sort of thing, my lord, save to, ah, condemn what he disliked, nor our uncle, and I would be glad of a chance to do so. I imagine you're very busy, but might I — we — invite you to dinner some night?"

Imrah's eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded. "Of course, Lord Taren. I'm tied up for a while with some Council business from this morning, but I'll have more time after Longnight. Send me a note and we'll arrange something."

Taren just managed to utter thanks before Imrah reached the door and was announced, and then it was their turn.

"Lord Taren of Stone Mountain, with Lord Saman and Lady Varia."

The servant's voice was stentorian, and though the great hall was already crowded _everyone_ seemed to be staring at them. Uncertainty roiled in Taren's gut, but Imrah had waited on them, and gestured them forwards, speaking in an undertone.

"As first timers you should go to be greeted by Their Majesties, on the daïs."

Imrah gestured, and over the milling heads Taren saw the platform at the far end of the hall where Their Majesties were speaking to a couple in exotically beautiful clothes. As they made their way through the throng he realised the woman was the Copper Isles ambassador he'd seen at the self-defence class, and as she curtsied, her husband bowing, and turned away she caught Var's eye and smiled, offering a nod.

"Lord Taren. Be welcome to Corus and my ball."

"Indeed."

Taren bowed, Sam and Var echoing him.

"Thank you, Your Majesties. May I present my brother, Saman, and my sister, Varia."

"Of course, my lord. Lord Saman, Lady Varia, it is Our pleasure to meet you, and see you take your rightful places." The King's eyes were keen. "Do I gather you have already met Ambassador Helimarang?"

Var swallowed, but kept her voice level. "I have, Your Majesty. We have joined the same self-defence class, at the temple of the Great Goddess."

"Excellent." Queen Thayet's voice was a purr. "That was quick work, Lady Varia. Who told you of it?"

"Mrs Weaver arranged it for me, Your Majesty."

"Ah. Isn't Lalasa a treasure? And you've secured her services as well, I see."

Var glanced at him, and he took over, swallowing himself.

"We have, Your Majesty, for which I gather we owe you thanks. Mrs Weaver told us she had consulted you and been granted use of a spellmirror."

The Queen waved a hand. "It was nothing, my lord."

Taren found his courage. "It was something to us, Your Majesty. Mrs Weaver had every reason to refuse my custom, but of Your grace I have been able to offer her Stone Mountain's profound apologies, and clear that debt at least."

The King frowned slightly. "Apologies, my lord? For what?"

"For the ghastly behaviour of my late half-brother, Your Majesty."

"Oh, that." The King shook his head. "Ghastly's about right, but I told you before that neither Joren's nor your father's offences are on you, my lord. What's past is past, and with all that's happened this year we're all rather starting anew."

The Queen laid a hand on the King's arm.

"True, but it was gracious of you to make such an apology, Lord Taren, and I don't doubt Lalasa appreciated it. Even so, you shouldn't let anyone tax you with others' deeds."

"Maybe so, Your Majesty, but I will _not_ be as our father was, and I'd rather make an apology uncalled for than omit one that is. I must also thank you for the copies of Countess Keladry's astonishing book."

The Queen's smile was edged. "You're welcome, my lord. How did your father take it?"

"I have yet to hear, Your Majesty, if I ever do. He has not chosen to communicate at all since his withdrawal. But I did direct my messenger to go via Margaram and read the 'Note' to my Uncle, so I may receive a letter from that quarter."

Royal eyes glinted, and the King nodded. "Turomot told me about that, Lord Taren, being very complimentary about how you'd handled it. You've had no further trouble?"

"Only some letters, Your Majesty, that I've ignored."

"Good. And 'sire' is fine, by the way." The King suddenly grinned. "Countess Keladry has _very_ little time for protocol, unless it's forced on her, so you'd best practice informality. And I'll no doubt see you at the Council of Nobles later in the week, but you must excuse Us now while We greet others. A pleasure to meet you, Lord Saman, Lady Varia, and do remember to enjoy the ball."

With further bows they retreated, Taren blowing out a breath echoed by his siblings. He wasn't sure _enjoying_ was quite on his agenda, but a servitor was offering glasses of wine, another little biscuits laden with a spiced cheese, and he found himself less uncomfortable than he'd expected, managing stilted conversations with various merchants and nobles who introduced themselves and asked unsubtle questions. Ending one such exchange with a vague promise to inspect some jewellery when he had the chance, he found Sam still at his side but no Varia, and worry rose until Sam silently gestured to a niche a few yards away where she was talking to — Taren swallowed — an _enormous_ blue-skinned figure, listening politely. Sam leaned towards him, voice a mutter.

"Guild Journeyogre, um, Elimiaju, I think, Tar. Var said to bring you over when that merchant was done."

Taren's reassurances to his mother sounded hollow in his memory as he contemplated the giant immortal.

"Right. Did he approach her?"

"No. She saw him, and went straight over. So you can hardly do less."

Sam gave a fraternal grin, though his own tension was evident, and Taren wondered, not for the first time, at their sister's courage. Then again, contact with the Craftsbeings' Guild had to start somewhere, and as they made their way across Var looked up, eyes alight.

"Elimiaju, sir, my elder brother, Lord Taren of Stone Mountain. Tar, this is Guild Journeyogre Elimiaju, a veteran of the siege and representative to the Council of Guilds."

An ogre bow turned out to be a thing to see, and Taren hastily returned it.

"Journeyogre Elimiaju, sir. A pleasure to meet you."

Without quite thinking about it he held out a hand, and found it gently engulfed. Could an ogre's eyes twinkle?

"Lord of Stone Mountain." The voice was deep but soft, as carefully controlled as the handshake. "Your sister tells me you will be heading north to New Hope in the spring, and that you hope to enlist the Guild's services to improve safety in your mines."

"Ah, yes on both counts, Journeyogre Elimiaju." Words from Countess Keladry's 'Note' tumbled in his mind, and he knew honesty would be the best policy. "There was bad blood between Countess Keladry and my late half-brother, I'm afraid, and I hope to set that right, as well as preventing further accidents in our mines and quarries." Another thought struck him. "Forgive me, sir, but are you a miner yourself? I'm sorry, but I don't know how to tell mining, farming, and fighting ogres from one another."

Taren hoped that faint rumble was an ogre laugh, and the great blue head nodded.

"I am a farmer, as it happens, Lord Taren. The miners are in greater demand at New Hope just now, opening a new coal-mine and setting the silver-mines at Tirrsmont to rights, but that will be done before the spring. And there is no easy way to tell us apart, I'm afraid, though with fighting ogres the weaponry will make it plain enough. To ask is no shame. As to bad blood, mmm. Your half-brother was the squire the elemental of the Chamber of the Ordeal slew?"

"That's right, sir. Joren of Stone Mountain."

He didn't add the curse that his mind supplied, but Elimiaju raised an eyebrow as if he sensed it.

"But you are not he, and clearly do not mourn him, so you should not worry on his account, I think. The Protector does not hold grudges against the dead, save perhaps for King Maggur and his necromancer, nor blame the innocent." The ogre shrugged, massively. "She does not speak much of her past, but in seeking to understand her better we have learned something of this tale from Tkaa and the darkings. And I do not think the dead one, had he inherited your fief, would be seeking our aid to save mortal lives." An ogre smile was also something to see. "Besides, Lord Taren, the Guild seeks customers, that New Hope may benefit, and however our aid in mining is sought in the north, you are the first to ask me for it here."

"Truly, sir?" Taren was surprised. "I would have expected many to be asking."

"Fear holds most back. And as the Protector warned me would be the case, the Council of Guilds is unsettled by my presence, as well as resentful of the monopoly on immortal work that the Protector so wisely secured for us." A large hand waved gently. "So while it may not be possible as soon as you would wish, I will tell the Protector that Stone Mountain stands first in line for mining aid. Do you know what you most wish to have done?"

Taren let Var answer that, and found himself genuinely enjoying the exchange as she guilelessly laid out the problems that beset them, with the root causes and such remedies as she could think of. Somewhere amid the intricacies of adits, shafts, and drainage, with which the ogre seemed familiar, the rutting of the trade-road also made an appearance, and he was interested that Elimiaju seemed to think that might be fixed too, but Sam plucked his sleeve and he turned to find an aged man scrutinising him from amid a retinue.

"You're Stone Mountain now?"

Mildly irritated at the tone, but noting the sigil, Taren bowed shortly.

"I am, my lord. And you are Nond?"

"Yes. You're nothing like Burchard."

"So I should hope, my lord. Or if you mean physically, I take after my mother."

Nond blinked. "Huh. _Nothing_ like Burchard. For which we may give thanks, I dare say, however irregular his abdicating his seat. What's he doing these days?"

"In detail I have no idea, my lord, but in general, as I understand it, praying. He has retired to a mountain hermitage."

"So that's true. He offered you no explanation?"

"Only to heed Countess Keladry, my lord, because the gods walk with her as they never did with him."

Rheumy eyes sharpened. "Well, he has _that_ right, for a wonder. Never been so shocked in my life as I was by New Hope. Can't like it, but there's no denying it. Is it true you banished Henchard?"

"It is, my lord. He did not care to accept my rule, and could not swear a gods' oath that he was wholly innocent of Genlith's treason. His Grace of Wellam observed, and approved my decision."

"Huh. Fair enough. And Henchard always was a fool. Too often in his cups as well."

"So I though also, my lord." Tired of the abruptness, and aware of a presence among Nond's retinue, Taren shifted mode. "I see Sir Paxton is with you, my lord. Would you be so kind as to introduce us?"

"What? Oh, yes, if you wish. Sir Paxton, Lord Taren of Stone Mountain. Stone Mountain, Sir Paxton of Nond."

"My lord."

"Sir Paxton. I asked for the introduction, sir, that I might offer you Stone Mountain's deepest apologies for the embarrassment and distress occasioned you by the conduct of your late squire. Never having trained for knighthood myself, I cannot know, but I must suppose a squire's failure a burden. Yet there can be no blame to you, sir. Joren listened to none, and I doubt you had any support from my father."

Paxton was clearly surprised, but nodded. "That is most gracious of you, my lord, but I cannot see that you owe me any apology. I must confess I felt the failure deeply, but as you say, Joren was … incorrigible." He shook his head. "Never been so embarrassed as I was at that trial. And I did all I could after, but he wouldn't listen to a word. Just ranted about La— the Countess of New Hope, and Tortall being shamed by her."

Nond has been listening with raised eyebrows. "You repudiate your brother, my lord?"

Taren noted the vocative, and nodded, "My half-brother, my lord. And yes, utterly. I cannot yet know what of the future I will support, but I break with Stone Mountain's past completely, and wish for as clean a slate as I can manage."

Nond nodded heavily. "Fair enough. And it's true you're going to New Hope?"

"It is, my lord. I have more than one apology to make."

"Not so sure about that, my lord, but good luck to you anyway. And you're making a start with the ogre, I see. What are you after?"

"Beyond simple acquaintance, my lord, and understanding of the Craftsbeings' Guild, my main concern is mine safety. The late lord of Genlith seems not to have cared much how many died if his quotas were met, but my priorities are very different."

Nond's eyes narrowed, but he nodded again. "Can't fault you in that, my lord. Liegers are to be looked after, not used up. You'll do."

The old man began to turn away, but Taren, if not unhappy with the indication of approval, was nettled, and asked a question of his own.

"Thank you, my lord. May I ask what you make of Countess Keladry's remarkable book?"

"That thing? Gods know. Literally." Taren didn't think grins were in Nond's repertoire, but his expression might have been a rueful smile of sorts before it faded. "Can't say I understand Lord Sakuyo at all, but I can still see him smiling at New Hope, so I dare say the book is more of the same."

"Smiling, my lord?"

"Yes. Popped out of nowhere with all the others, the day the treaty was signed, and they _all_ spoke to her. Astonishing. Half of them kissed her forehead, but he was the only one smiling. Made me feel very odd." A shrug. "He's a trickster, I gather, so who knows? But New Hope says he helped us win, and I'll not argue with _her_. Anyone with sense knows that's a fool's game." He shook his head. "As to the book, well, I saw that blessed dragon and I still don't really understand what she did, but it worked all right, so I don't need to. What did you think?"

"That she has earned great blessings, my lord, in which all of Tortall may share, if we will." Nond nodded. "And that the gods put _everyone_ who had reviled and opposed her where she could justly slaughter them."

White eyebrows rose. "The traitors, you mean? In that first attack?"

"Mostly, yes, but King Maggur too. And Genlith's son earlier, if I have that story correctly. A clean sweep."

"Huh. Hadn't thought of it like that. Interesting." A frown. "Macayhill killed Genlith, though. But I take your point. They lined themselves up, and she took them all down. Shook me rigid at the time, but it's worked out for the best. Anyway, must be getting on. You'll be at the Council of Nobles?"

"I will, my lord."

"I'll introduce you, then, if you like."

"It will be my honour, my lord."

The old man turned away, and Taren realised they had had an audience — not only Their Majesties, poker-faced and standing with a tall man, blond and bearded, who must be Scanran, but others all around, including Elimiaju, great head slightly cocked. He met the King's gaze, and received a nod.

"That was well handled, Lord Taren. My lord of Nond found himself much taken aback by events, as all were. And I agree the gods served up Lady Keladry's foes to her on a platter. But allow me to introduce my new Scanran ambassador, Erik Hrothgarsson. Ambassador, Lord Taren of Stone Mountain, with his brother Lord Saman, and sister, Lady Varia."

There were more bows and handshakes, Taren wondering at the Scanran's urbane composure, but before he could speak Elimiaju did so.

"Allow me to correct two things that were said, Your Majesties, for it is not true that all the gods who manifested at New Hope that day spoke to the Protector, nor that only Lord Sakuyo smiled. Lady Shakith marked a moment of prophecy, but did not speak to be understood, even to young Irnai, and if the Goddess and Black God spoke, only the Protector heard." That ogre look was reflective, Taren thought. "But the Black God did cup her cheek in blessing, for which even Quenuresh knows no precedent."

The Scanran nodded, eyes wondering. "So Jorvik Hamrsson and Ragnar Ragnarsson told the tale, Master Elimiaju. Blessings from all the High Ones, but not speech." Blue eyes met Taren's. "And we too believe they delivered Clanchief Hléoburh's enemies to her rightful wrath, my lord, Scanran and Tortallan alike. But what we have first taken from her astonishing book is twofold — her great mercy, in separating wheat from chaff, sparing all she could, and that we must repair our piety. Ragnar Ragnarsson has pushed the Council on this, and he is sponsoring shrines to Lord Sakuyo in Hamrkeng and at Somalkt. Others will follow, I deem."

That was a thought that had occurred to Taren too, though the priest at Stone Mountain had been lest than helpful, but when he said so the King swiftly raised a hand.

"You can build any temple you like, my lord, but priests are _not_ my responsibility. Ask Archdivine Holloran, and good luck to you."

The Queen was more tactful. "We _are_ considering a Sakuyan temple here, Lord Taren, rest assured. But be aware Lady Keladry's book has many thinking along those lines, and there will certainly be rather more Sakuyan shrines than divines to serve them for some while." She smiled. "You'll find Holloran sympathetic, though, if a little … distracted. He did have to conduct a wedding with two gods in attendance."

That was enough for Var to beg the tale, and as others were equally interested Her Majesty obliged, with occasional interjections by the King. Svein had not mentioned that Countess Keladry had shared her wedding day with three couples from among her commoners, nor that _she_ had officiated at them, Holloran merely assisting, and had roped in the King to give away one of the brides, nor any number of intriguing details that brought the whole to shimmering life as the Queen spoke. It left all in wondering good humour, and was much debated as the evening wore on, but Taren did manage some other useful conversations, making himself known to yet more nobles, greeting Mrs Weaver (in a stunning dress) and meeting her husband, and securing a promise from a senior healer to write to his mother about Stone Mountain's needs. Before departing, well after midnight, he also delighted Var by inviting Journeyogre Elimiaju to dine with them two nights hence, and discovered to his complete surprise that ogres were vegetarian.

As it turned out, the meal with Elimiaju was the first of two that bracketed his introduction at the Council of Nobles, and afforded him far more deeply unsettling if very thought-provoking experiences. While they ate a variety of spiced dishes that seemed to please the ogre, the talk was mostly of the recalcitrance of the Council of Guilds, and the considerable volume of business _not_ being dealt with properly, if at all, while it dithered and shuffled resentfully — a process, Taren realised after a while, that Elimiaju had expected, and was observing with amusement and infinitely polite patience. What good it might do Taren had no idea, but he promised Stone Mountain's support for the Craftsbeings' Guild against those who wished to parcel out its immortal monopoly among themselves, receiving thanks and a shrewd look in return. After dinner, though, the subject shifted to New Hope and its Countess, and Elimiaju sat back, his hastily reinforced chair creaking.

"I do commend your intent in going there, Lord Taren, as the Protector will your care of younger siblings. And New Hope welcomes all who come in honesty and peace. But the Protector is a great wonder to all, if perhaps less of a puzzle to us than to mortals. Such as she arise but rarely, but they do arise, and our memories are long. Yet it is also true that even among her peers down the mortal ages she stands out. Many have taken a moment in time and shaped tribe or culture, with or without the help of a god. Far fewer have won such widespread respect among immortals. And one other mortal only, to our knowledge, has so ridden the Timeway as it turned, and that to lesser effect. To do all — _that_ is a new thing in the Three Realms, and widely debated, even among those who saw some of the doing."

He drained his quart of water, accepting a refill with murmured thanks.

"Not that I understood half of what I was seeing, most of the time." His grin was unexpectedly self-deprecating, teeth white against blue skin. "But Earfiller — that's our bard Olimiariaju — has given us plenty to chew on. Do you know of the giant whom Var'istaan petrified during the siege?"

Taren nodded cautiously. "The one in the ballad Countess Keladry mentions in her 'Note'?"

"Just so. Earfiller made the song of that giant's surprise, and so drew our attention to patterns beyond the great power of Var'istaan's rock-spell that overcame Chaos. The giant had been tainted by Uusoae, you understand, and so fell prey to King Maggur's need. Like him, it fought to seize and destroy, seeking personal gain, while Var'istaan fought willingly, beyond duty though at the Protector's request, to serve her and defend his own. But even as a farmer I can see that stone ran through all, from the basilisks' part in building New Hope, above and below, to the petrified giant, the Protector's bowshot from the height of the fin, and the fall of the overhang that slew the mortal mages. Beneath whatever gods did, stone spoke in those months and days. So did fire." The great ogre shrugged, an oddly delicate movement. "Now whether the Timeway prompted them, or they spoke for themselves to Timeway and gods alike — _that_ is a question."

Sam frowned, and asked for them all. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand. How can stone speak? Or fire?"

"They do not speak in words, Lord Saman, but they are not therefore dumb. Father Universe and Mother Flame made them, as they made all things, and it is but a few years since those two were roused by Uusoae's rebellion."

That story took a while, leaving Taren wondering if his father and uncle had known it, and with renewed incredulity what idiocy could have possessed them to continue to slight the Wildmage if they had. He didn't know if he was any the wiser as to how stone and fire might speak, or ogric bards hear them, but Elimiaju's clear conviction that Countess Keladry had become a focus of power across all Realms demanded thought. Not for the first time he wondered if unseen powers had been moving in his own life since _he_ had perished in the Chamber of the Ordeal, and if so to what ends, but there was still nothing he could do save to continue as best he might — which meant enduring his introduction at the Council of Nobles, informing them of his uncle's banishment (about which they were more sympathetic than he had expected), and sitting through a long and rather rambling discussion of the possible betrothal of Princess Lianne to the Crown Prince of Galla, which to most seemed more advantageous than not.

The second conversation came in the week after Longnight, when many were celebrating the successful conclusion to the year's Ordeals, and they entertained Lord Imrah. Taren had in calculating politeness extended his invitation to the Count's new squire, Lachran of Mindelan, but it seemed he was attending his aunt at New Hope on the strict understanding that Kel — an easy familiarity Taren, Sam, and Var all noted — would oversee his weapons training.

"All against the book of course, but Kel had her reasons to stay north this Midwinter, and Piers and Ilane theirs for wanting the family together. In any case, Kel's a superb teacher as well as a fearsome weapons master, and she'll not only keep young Lachran up to the mark but send him back vastly improved."

Var looked surprised. "Isn't she pregnant, my lord?"

"Very." Lord Imrah grinned. "With twins, I gather. But that won't stop her training herself, my lady, and the whole programme at New Hope is relentless. I expect you've heard a lot of confusing stuff about gods and the Timeway, and I dare say all true enough, in its way — but if you want to understand Kel don't ever leave _her_ out of her own reckoning. I saw her train with Cavall and Goldenlake, and she worked harder than anyone I've ever seen."

"Truly, my lord?"

"Oh yes. Talent enough for twenty, but the gods help those who help themselves, we say, and Kel's a proof of it. People say now that she's lucky too, and I suppose she is — but it's luck she's earned a dozen times over." Lord Imrah's level gaze was keen. "I'd say that if gods have flocked to her banner as much as immortals, it's because she raised that banner. Just as she — no other — went out on that fin to fire at that awful trebuchet, and set off the magesblasts and dragonfire that killed so many traitors and Scanrans, and led the final sortie herself."

Having dismissed the servants for the evening Taren refreshed their glasses himself, noting the echo of Svein's words, and after thanking him Lord Imrah sat back.

"It's odd, you know. Alanna was there, and Raoul, Lord Wyldon, and Vanget as well as me, never mind His Majesty, and none of us ever doubted her command." He sipped reflectively. "You don't. She says, and you do. I didn't hear a single questionable order from her to anyone during the whole siege. Crisp and sure every single time, backed with unwavering courage and consistently taking the highest risks herself. Men didn't only die for her, but dug deeper than they knew they could. Long and the short is, she's the finest _leader_ I've ever seen, military or civilian." He grinned again, disarmingly. "And just as you're feeling all overawed and respectful, she ever so politely thwaps the back of your head, and points out something you could be doing to help someone else. Cavall says she's the best and most terrifying education he's ever had, and I don't disagree."

Then Lord Imrah sobered, and spoke as few would. Taren greatly appreciated it.

"Can't help you with what your father wouldn't tell you, Lord Taren. The King told me you'd asked, but only he and Kel know exactly what the elemental said about your half-brother's death, and they're not saying, Or not to me. But it's clear enough from your half-brother's trial that he genuinely believed all that rubbish about women being unfit for knighthood, and equally clear the elemental doesn't and never has. D'you know about the pattern of Lady Knights and necromancers?"

The tale that followed was brutally stark, and new to Taren in several aspects and some details.

"Thing is, your father was there when Alanna slew Roger, both times, and refused to see what was plain. Yes, the Goddess was with her, and that blessed cat, but the fact remains that she fought and killed the strongest mage in Tortall. And did it _again_ when he managed to return from death stronger than ever. Pure common sense screamed _not_ to argue with Alanna at that point — but your father did, with your uncle. And now that same common sense, doubled and doubled again, says to tread … not softly, quite, but wisely, about Kel. She's paid a deal more for what she has than Alanna did, and she has much more self-control and clarity of purpose than Alanna ever had then. Her rage too is far more devastating, because she can _use_ it. D'you understand that?"

Taren gave the only possible answer, met with another grin.

"Not sure I do either, to be frank. But as best I can say, mulling things I saw and the King thinks he knows, it's not so much that the gods used Kel as that they used her rage, much as she used dragonfire, to scour something out of the Mortal Realm. And she _is_ enraged, make no mistake. Alanna knew she was breaking the rules, and had the Goddess to justify her. Kel had _nothing_ , save herself and her Yamani discipline, and she knew the rules were being broken against her. Or enforced against her, as at your brother's trial. And with the southern lords who wouldn't allow refugees from the war to come south — not even children threatened by a necromancer who sought them especially."

Lord Imrah shivered unexpectedly.

"Of course King Maggur and Blayce were far more directly culpable, and if you'd been there as she denied the Maggot death-rites and fed him to the stormwings, you'd know what I'm trying to say." He shivered again. "She wasn't a mouthpiece for the gods, you realise? She pronounced judgement, and every Realm endorsed it — gods and immortals, Scanrans as much as Tortallans. And I swear the dead did too. She says it was Lord Sakuyo who lent her his voice, and she should know, but I heard more than one god approving what she said, fiercely. And I felt the world turn, at her command. It was …"

The silence lasted a while, and none of them dared speak until Lord Imrah shrugged.

"Say this, then. The gods said Maggur should fall for what he'd done, but Kel said he had to die, right now, and made her word good — on their behalves, certainly, but most of all in her own sheer rage. He had to die that children might live, she said, and every being who heard her — mortal, immortal, or divine — agreed, in spades." The grin returned. "And after that she just carried on, unfailingly polite, respectful, and implacable. After seeing what she'd done _no-one_ was going to argue — not the King, or the Council of Ten when they got there, or the dragons or the gods, not that I understand that bit in the least. And again, if we all backed her, that was because she commanded us."

Suddenly Lord Imrah laughed.

"Not even of age, and ordering the world in a dead-level voice that had everyone jumping. And a palpable care, with an equal impatience to get things _sorted_ , however seemingly intractable. It was magnificent — and very _funny_ , if you had the detachment to appreciate it. And that's what I really meant to say, because I came to realise that … the amusement escalated. I thought it was funny when I could manage to. Nond never saw it at all, nor Disart, and the King struggled, though I think he knew he was missing something that mattered. Alanna could, more often, and Raoul, even Cavall, I think, but the immortals almost all did, and the elder ones more so — Quenuresh, and Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow, and Kawit, when she came, and Queen Barzha. But the gods most of all, I fancy. I asked Kel once if she thought they were all drunk on the irony, and she gave me a wordless hug before getting called away to something or other. I'll never forget — but what plane was Kel operating on, that my strained thought produced such a response, eh? One where she knew the gods were so drunk on their own jokes that it was her job, as their chosen and … I want to say, friend, to see them all safely home to bed." Imrah shook his head. "'Mother' wasn't such a bad nickname, after all, although 'beloved' would have done just as well."

The siblings spent many subsequent evenings discussing both immortal and mortal insights, but what could anyone make of such words? In some ways it was a comfort that _everyone_ was so uncertain about Countess Keladry, at once assured of her power and at a loss to know what it meant, and Taren also found himself comforted by the reflection that, new as he was to his own duties, all were facing a world that had turned, and finding much unfamiliar. But that did not assuage his difficulties, for while he had a growing conviction that Stone Mountain had played a part beyond itself, and had a part yet to play, he had no clear sense of what it might be. Joren had served the future by dying, his father by abdicating, but what was he to do by living and ruling his fief? Co-operation with immortals was clearly mandated, by gods' endorsement as much as royal fiat, but Elimiaju's talk of stone and fire was beyond mortal perceptions, and how any of them stood now to the gods remained a sore puzzle, as niggling and unignorable as a loose tooth.

Nor was Archdivine Holloran much help, as Her Majesty had warned. After escorting Var to her class one day, he sought out the senior priest at the Temple of Mithros, and asked for the despatch of a younger, more flexible man than Tover, but when it came to events at New Hope Holloran only smiled and gave a priestly shrug.

"I serve Lord Mithros as best I can, my lord, and through Countess Keladry have twice had the honour of meeting Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady. The first time I knelt. _She_ offered them food they seemed happy to accept. The second time I bowed. She fed them again, and danced with him afterwards, laughing the while. The Temple has named her a fit celebrant, and is otherwise keeping its counsel until it has something sensible to say."

But Holloran did have one piece of advice to relay from Lady Keladry, that he was still digesting — to look the gods in the eye with respect, rather than abasing oneself and with that Taren had to be content.

Resolving to do something, however firmly, did not, Taren discovered, oblige events or anyone else to prove convenable. January passed pleasantly enough, dominated by a whole series of fittings with Mrs Weaver that resulted in some additional finery for a delighted Var, and three wonderful travelling outfits, sturdy, warm, comfortable, and well-pocketed. He paid generously, and made a hefty donation to the costs of running the self-defence classes, telling Mrs Weaver that it pleased him to throw good Stone Mountain money after bad, and winning a melting smile. With the southern winter continuing mild he hoped they might be able to head north sooner than he had expected, but all plans were forestalled soon after Imbolc by news that the King, Queen, and Crown Couple would be making an immediate state visit to Yaman, with the Countess-Protector leading a Craftsbeings' Guild delegation that would meet them there. It was dismaying, but from what Taren could gather the Yamani emperor had all but required the visit, invoking the treaty, so there was nothing to do but wait on its conclusion. Despite the harsher northern winter mail was still, apparently, getting through to New Hope, so he sent a further letter wishing the Countess well on her travels, hoping her twins had safely arrived, and indicating that he would write again when he heard of her return from Yaman.

The King was, of necessity, very busy clearing business ahead of his departure, but once it had been announced that Princess Lianne would travel to Galla in the summer to meet Crown Prince Loup Taren managed to secure an interview one evening, and went with Sam and Var. The principal issue was the problem with the guilds, and when he explained Var's interest the King snorted laughter before waving a hand.

"No offence, Lady Varia — I'm just imagining the Guildmaster's face. Good luck to you. But your brother's right it's tricky, and I think I must ask you to wait a little. The Glassblowers decided to beard Lady Keladry directly in defence of their monopoly, and deserve to be left to her tender mercies, but I _have_ created a legal problem and I'd rather not jog Turomot's elbow just now. I also think you'd do well to reach your deal with the Craftsbeings first."

"Very well, sire. Are you aware I've promised Journeyogre Elimiaju my support in the Council of Guilds?"

The King frowned. "No. Interesting. But forgive me, Lord Taren, what support might that be?"

"Anything up to and including dismissing the Miners' Guild from Stone Mountain and recognising the Craftsbeings' Guild instead."

"Hoo! Well, that would set a cat among the pigeons alright. Probably better as a threat than a decision, though."

"Surely, sire. And from what Elimiaju says the Craftsbeings wouldn't want it until they can recruit more basilisks."

"Huh. Also interesting. And I believe I _will_ be doing something further about the Council of Guilds, but not before I'm back from Yaman and Turomot's had his say. Was there anything else?"

Taren took a breath, thinking Var's suggestion was extreme even for her, but that the outcome might be well worthwhile.

"One thing, sire. We wondered if we might be permitted to address the elemental."

The King's gaze hardened. "Address? To say what? Did Keladry refuse to tell you what you wanted to know?"

"No, sire. I wouldn't broach that by letter. But it is to do with Joren. We …"

He hesitated and Var's clear voice cut in.

"We all wish to thank it for not allowing our half-brother to leave the Chamber alive once he had failed his Ordeal, sire. It would have been _awful_. And while I have thanked the gods that it is Taren and not Joren or our father who will have to approve my marriage, I would like to thank the being actually responsible."

"Well, now." Something else had joined irritation on the King's face — interest, perhaps, or a deeper curiosity. "That makes sense, I suppose, and you've all been so punctilious about offering needless apologies I shouldn't be surprised by a desire to offer needless thanks."

"Needless for whom, sire? We felt Joren's fists, and we would have been in his power, not you."

"Ouch." The King's expression progressed to quizzical. "True, Lady Varia, but Joren caused me plenty of trouble, just the same. You realise the elemental doesn't always answer?"

"That is its privilege, sire, which it cannot exercise if we cannot address it first."

"Also true. And a point I can hear someone else making." He shook his head a little. "You and Keladry are going to have an interesting time when you meet. Alright, but we do it now. Come on."

That was not what any of them had expected, but they found themselves swept out with the King, guards falling in behind. At the door of the chapel that housed the Chamber the King told the guards to wait, and ushered them into a bare space dominated by a sundisc above an altar and a pair of dull metal doors in the further wall, closing the outer doors behind him and leaning against the sidewall.

"We shan't enter the Chamber, but pages test themselves by putting their hands on the doors. I warn you, though, that you might not like the results if it decides to test you."

"Courtesy is worth the risk, sire." Var was still taking the lead. "How should we address it?"

"It is the Lord of the Chamber."

"Thank you, sire."

Var didn't hesitate in walking forward, and Taren and Sam necessarily flanked her. She did glance at each of them briefly, and Taren felt his mouth dry as they all reached out to lay their palms on the metal. It was cold to the touch, and he had an immediate sense of a distant and inhuman curiosity that sharpened as Var spoke for them all.

"We greet you, Lord of the Chamber."

 _You are not squires._

The voice was an icy whisper resonating in Taren's head, and from the way Var and Sam stiffened he knew they had all heard it. But Var's voice stayed level and calm.

"We are not, my lord. My brothers are Taren and Saman of Stone Mountain, and I am Varia. We wanted to thank you for not allowing our half-brother Joren to survive your Ordeal that he failed, and for whatever you said to our father that made him withdraw from the world. Your decisions blessed us, and we are grateful."

The silence stretched, and after a moment Taren glanced at Varia, wondering if they should quit while they were ahead, and withdraw.

 _Wait._

The sense of someone rummaging through his memories intensified, then ebbed again.

 _The images of you from his head did not make you easy to recognise. He saw much amiss._

Taren heard no question, but the King's voice came from behind them.

"Because I thought it the Protector's right to decide whom she told, Lord of the Chamber. And her privilege to tell these, should she so wish."

 _You grow wiser, Jonathan of Conté. Yet these children are sincere._ The whisper somehow shifted in tone, accommodating surprise. _I have never before been thanked for being the instrument of a death. What is it you wish of me, lords and lady of Stone Mountain?_

Taren found his voice, and truth rising. "I have no name for it, Lord of the Chamber, but I prayed for Joren's death, and have thanked the gods for it. I felt I had to thank you also, who answered my prayer. I did my best to protect my brother and sister when we were all the children you name us, but I could not have done so as an adult, had Joren lived. I know that to hope for the death of kin is wrong, but I cannot repent it, and will accept whatever punishment I am due."

 _Punishment? I doubt the gods will care, and I cannot, nor would were it otherwise. And your minds are cleaner by far than that of your half-brother, for you wish none harm without true cause._

That Taren would have to think about, but a more urgent question burned.

"Did the gods ask his death of you, Lord of the Chamber?"

 _No._ Was that indignation? _My decisions are my own. Why do you ask?_

"When I knew you had worked with Lady Shakith and Lord Gainel to help destroy the necromancer, and heard how, uh, the Protector had been given her enemies to slaughter, in the siege, I thought Joren might have been a down payment — a death in earnest of what she was owed."

Taren wasn't sure how long this silence lasted, but it seemed interminable.

 _That is beyond my knowledge, Lord of Stone Mountain, but not, I think, a foolish surmise. All gods loathe necromancy, and to give she who became the Protector that quest seemed straightforward at the time. But gods are ever prone to secrecy, and Sakuyo was deeper in this than I knew, so it may be I served a purpose beyond my own._ There was something that felt like a shrug. _It is no matter to me, and I did not think of your and your siblings' fates when I accepted Joren's death. I can no more forgive than regret, but you may tell the Protector that I have no objection to your knowing why Joren died, nor what so sickened your father._ Tone shifted again. _I have never thanked anyone either, but I thank you all. Your concern for me is very mortal, and so misconceived, but not, I find, unwelcome._ And again. _You did well to bring them, Jonathan of Conté. I am still thinking on the question you asked. Come to me again before you depart for Yaman._

How Taren knew this silence was final he had no idea, but Sam and Var were equally swift to drop their hands, and echoed his bow before turning away. The King shook his head, but not in negation, and there was respect in his eyes.

"Very mortal and so misconceived. Perfect. Do talk to Keladry about that one, and your idea about Joren. She'll appreciate it. And be aware I shall tell Lord Padraig of your conversation and the elemental's debut thanks, as is proper. Now, Thayet will be wondering where I've got to."

It seemed only an eyeblink before they were alone again to make their way home, wondering and oddly light of heart, if deeply reflective. Taren couldn't say his conjecture about Joren's death had been confirmed, but it hadn't been rejected, and Var's relaxation in the days that followed was a boon though his own thoughts churned. Quite why it mattered he wasn't sure, but the way the elemental had said 'Protector' and the King's omission of any other title stuck with him, and he found himself pondering her variety of address. 'Countess-Protector' was the term routinely used in official statements, though notably not by almost anyone else. Many of the old nobility referred to the woman obsessing all minds as 'New Hope', as Nond did, but newer nobles usually preferred 'Countess Keladry' or just 'the Countess', there being only one who could be meant. Among merchants and wealthier artisans she might be so, but 'Protector' was also used, and both among servants and in the Lower City it was standard. After Midwinter Taren had made a point of visiting various Protector's Maids' shops with Sam and Var, to make purchases and ask politely how the scheme worked at the business end — efforts rewarded with interesting information but also a realisation that among those who had been to New Hope she was almost always the more familiar 'Lady Kel', though to outsiders, generously defined, always the Protector. And like the elemental, Elimiaju and other immortals were also consistent users of that title — or at least, those quoted in the Countess's 'Note' and all he'd managed to speak with had done so : some brusque centaurs from the Royal Forest who'd come to the Palace stables on business of their herds, and, more alarmingly, a group of spidrens, now under treaty, who were also laired in the Forest and came to deliver old webbing and furs in return for, of all things, cheese.

He, Sam, and Var encountered them only because some days after their meeting His Majesty sent them an invitation to do so, blandly remarking that they'd have to deal with spidrens at New Hope and should get into practice. Whether it was reward or punishment, or both, Taren wasn't sure, but they didn't hesitate to accept. On the day, the King was not himself present and the palace cooks who brought the rounds of cheese looked distinctly unhappy, but soldiers of the King's Own superintending were at ease, and remained so even when the band of immortals emerged warily from the wood-eaves. Never having seen a spidren before, let alone spoken to one, the siblings found themselves more than a little horrified by steel teeth and bristling legs, but their nervous bows and curtsey were returned with a dipping movement, and the spidren leader — one Macarran — added a disarmingly wry smile.

"We fear you and your weapons, mortal, as you fear us and our webs. Yet we are glad to meet you, for few mortals have yet proven willing or able to set old fears aside on this new path Quenuresh and the Protector have shaped for all."

Finding his prepared speech driven from his head, Taren asked the first question that occurred to him. "Do you know Quenuresh, Macarran?"

"We met in the Divine Realms, some centuries back, but not since. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, because we — my siblings and I — will be going to New Hope. And, er, the Protector says in her book that Quenuresh's mastery of illusion was critical to the victory, so I, we, wondered what she was like."

"Big, mostly. We grow with age, and Quenuresh is eldest." Macarran frowned. "Do you have the Protector's book? We have heard of it, and would be glad to know more."

Taren had not had it with him, but as the soldiers of the Own were also interested it had been the work of a moment to despatch one with an authorisation, and Taren had shortly found himself reading the 'Note' aloud for the second time, to a much stranger audience. Neither Macarran nor any other spidren had much to say about it, save some hissing laughter at Lord Diamondflame's warning about not presuming on dragons, and a more pointed observation of the final paragraph, that not even a trickster-god would do such a thing unless he wanted something from it, however inscrutable his purpose ; but they were indeed glad to know the 'Note' in proper detail, and said they would pass word that the Lord of Stone Mountain had shown courtesy, and should be shown it in return, which Taren found more heartening than he could quite explain. The Ownsmen who listened, though, were all veterans of the siege, and having been joined by their commander, Ettenor of Aili, and other men who were off duty, had any number of observations to ponder. None, interestingly, were in any way scornful of the Scanrans, whose courage during the siege and cheerful demeanour in the long weeks afterwards seemed to have impressed all and while the whole business of the gods' involvement and Countess Keladry's notions of the leeway granted her produced uneasy shrugs, reminiscences added a considerable amount of new detail. Imrah's words about outstanding leadership were strongly borne out, with tales of a quiet word here, a sharper rebuke there, and an uncanny ability to inspire confidence even when things looked hopeless, which they had Ettenor also had things to say about the sally that had ended it, and the stormwing queen's execution — his word — of King Maggur, that went considerably beyond the official account.

What really astonished Taren, though, was the tale of clearing corpses from the roadway and moat — an utter grotesquerie of bodies slashed, pierced, burned, and trampled, rising and swaying away to fiercely trilling mage music, with severed limbs, spilled guts, and detached heads tumbling among them, until all had formed one vast heap that a single arrow had (somehow) incinerated to nothing in mere moments. Despite Commander Svein's warning about the scale of the slaughter weighing on Countess Keladry, Taren found he had assumed that dragonfire incinerated bodies wholesale, and had quite omitted to realise that the consequences of a failed assault had to be cleared, as swiftly as possible, before life could go on. Thoughts of his father's obsession with Joren's monument circled in his mind. And there was again an insistence on _her_ personal responsibility for getting it done so strangely and efficiently, forestalling the grim, slow labour others had begun with commands to the mages to use the Sorcerer's Dance, and a ruthless drive that saw the task completed in one interminable afternoon and evening. Ettenor, whose Uncle Harailt had been one of the mages involved, remarked the intense relief of Duke Baird, the Lioness, and other healers, who had feared disease and worse as rot set in, but a wholly different perspective was offered by Macarran.

All the spidrens had listened with interest, and after Ettenor's comment one asked about the absence of stormwings, being reminded they were not then present, having departed with Maggur's head the afternoon before Macarran nodded, adding to more spidren hissing that by all accounts, however improbable, the Protector was weaning the Stone Tree Nation off playing with corpses, then looked thoughtful.

"The one who would most like this dance of the dead is the Black God's daughter, and we had word from the north that she and Dabeyoun visited New Hope at summer's end. It is said Dabeyoun agreed to guard the graveyard against necromancy, a new path for him, but perhaps this dance, beyond its efficiency, was a payment for such service."

After a moment it was Var — inevitably — who asked the question.

"Forgive my ignorance, Master Macarran, sir, but who is Dabeyoun?"

Teeth glinted in a spidren grin.

"I claim no title, mortal Varia. Macarran is name enough in this realm. And Dabeyoun is the Graveyard Hag's hyena, a trickster of death in his own right. You will find his image on her shrines, in Carthak and elsewhere, but we do not know of him consorting with any mortal before now." Taren didn't think spidrens could shrug, but Macarran's tilt of the head might have been an equivalent. "It may not be true, for all tales from the north have been fantastical, however most have proven accurate, but the Protector has seen the Black God's face, that he does not show, so it cannot be discounted either, and more than a thousand dancing corpses, with giants among them, might explain much."

To spidrens, maybe, Taren thought, feeling more baffled than ever, and the siblings' subsequent discussions went nowhere, but the day had one very pleasing consequence in making them welcome among the men of the Own. With an open-ended wait before they could head north he had considered returning to Stone Mountain, but an exchange of letters with Commander Svein and his mother persuaded him it was unnecessary, and Corus did offer opportunities not available there, including a real programme of training for him and Sam. The Ownsmen welcomed them for regular sparring sessions that saw their competence rapidly expand beyond the basics Captain Horgan had drummed in, and though Var, who often came to watch, had no interest in learning the sword, she did extend her training from the self-defence classes to include sessions with one of the Shang who helped train pages.

That in turn provided a further welcome set of contacts. After the King's warning Taren was not surprised to be approached by Lord Padraig haMinch, the Training Master, who did want to confirm the elemental's words, offering wry congratulations on eliciting its thanks, but was more immediately concerned to borrow Countess Keladry's book.

"The copies that came south before Midwinter went like lightning, my lord, and for all there's officially three in the Palace Library actually laying hands on one is another matter. A second shipment's due from the City of the Gods, I'm told, but they're still snowed in and will be for a while yet. I've read His Majesty's personal copy, but he won't let it out of his chambers for love nor money. Thing is, though, the second years are just reading Orchan, so I was wanting Kel's commentary."

"Not the 'Note', my lord?"

"Gods, no." Lord Padraig shuddered gently. "Wouldn't do to give them too many ideas at once. Kel says that's for commanders, and she's right. But with Tkaa away in Rajmuat we've no immortal teachers just now, so the commentary would serve more than one purpose."

Sharply aware of those simple 'Kel's, Taren thought agreeing would be wise as well as polite, and in consequence he, Sam, and Var found themselves twice invited to dine at Lord Padraig's high table — interesting in itself, and on the second occasion, in March, very much so, as a further guest was Lord Wyldon, resident at the Palace in support of Prince Liam and His Grace of Naxen since Their Majesties' departure, but hitherto unseen. The initial meeting was awkward, each of them surprised by the other's attempt to apologise for Joren, but then Lord Wyldon gave an austere smile.

"I believe both of us err, Lord Taren. You bear no blame whatever, and while I do, having misjudged your half-brother almost as badly as I did Lady Keladry, it is not you to whom my debt is owed, but her. And she has forgiven me my errors, so let us both consider happier things."

In the pages' hall, with many ears listening, Taren did so, but invited Lord Wyldon to dine the following week, and some puzzles became clearer. He was nervous beforehand, the lord of Cavall having a reputation for severity compounded by his scarred face, as well as for austere dedication to duty, but the conversation while they ate was of Stone Mountain and the changes he had made, Sam and Var contributing, and when they shifted to more comfortable seating afterwards Lord Wyldon made his approval clear.

"It sounds as if you are doing very well indeed, Lord Taren, and I do commend your new policies. Your involvement is also welcome news, Lady Varia, however unexpected a turn in Stone Mountain history. But that is rather the point, I imagine — to do as your father, uncle, and half-brother would never have done."

Taren nodded. "Indeed, my lord, and repudiating them matters in many ways. But I would not prevent Varia from doing anything lawful she wished to do. As children we all felt Joren's hand often enough, but she was his victim of choice, and Saman and I were not always there to intervene."

"You both did all you could, Tar." Var shrugged. "And _he_ wasn't around much once he became a squire."

"Mmm." Lord Wyldon looked troubled. "Forgive me, Lady Varia, but did his bullying worsen once Keladry was enrolled as a page? She started in 452, so you would have been … four, I think."

"That's right, my lord. I was born in 448. And yes, a bit, because he was _always_ angry then, but Joren hated all of us anyway, and our mother. The elemental said the images of us in his mind were distorted, which is no surprise." Var's smile did not reach her eyes. "But I learned to stay out of his way soon enough, and knowing he couldn't beat Lady Keladry no matter how often he fought her was a joy, in its own way."

"The _elemental_ said?"

The explanation took a while.

"I had not been told of this, but I must commend your courtesy, however odd the circumstances. And to have the elemental's thanks … Gods, but Keladry was far-sighted." The older man shook his head ruefully. "And how very blind I was. Joren fooled me completely, I'm afraid, for I thought him what he seemed, though the evidence that he was otherwise was staring me in the face. Keladry asked me once if the chivalry of three older pages fighting one younger one had ever occurred to me, and I was ashamed to realise that it hadn't. It's no excuse, but having her face a hard time suited me then, because I thought it would deter her, and I supposed him to share my beliefs that women should be protected, and were unfit for knighthood. That he _liked_ being violent towards her, and all women, as he obviously was to you, my lady, never occurred to me then, nor that he had no understanding at all of chivalry."

There was a thoughtful pause,

"If I may ask, my lord, what changed your mind?"

"Keladry herself, for the most part, Lord Saman. She worked so _hard_ , and was so evidently brave. Do you know about her fear of heights? One of her brothers had instilled it with some childhood mischief, and when I realised it I thought it might be the weakness that would let me dismiss her honourably. But as I watched her overcome it I began to see how deep her courage ran, and how strong her will had to be. That set me thinking properly, even before the criminal assault on Miss Isran as was, Mrs Weaver now, with the revelations of Joren's trial and that appalling business with Sir Voelden trying to run her through at the tilt. It angers me yet."

Taren spoke cautiously, mind spinning. "We know he did so, my lord, but not how Joren was involved."

"He persuaded Sir Voelden to it by paying his debts, Lord Taren. I only learned that later, but it was obvious during the progress that he was inciting knights to challenge her, and was increasingly enraged when she beat them, almost to a man." An unexpected smile lit the austere face. "Being unable to unseat her myself was a shock, too. Goldenlake taught her very well, and he's the only knight I don't care to joust with if I can avoid it. But by then Keladry was showing her capacities of command, and even I was beginning to realise we would need her skills badly."

A memory glimmered in Taren's mind. "Can you tell us of her encounter with bandits as a page, my lord? We heard of it, but never in detail. Somewhere in the east, if I recall right."

"Quite right, Lord Taren. Some broken country in the Drell badlands, where I held the summer camp in 454. The local army commander said it was clear of bandits, but it turned out the fool had taken bribes to let them alone, and some of the pages ran into a group. It might have been a disaster, and I confess my heart was in my mouth when the alarm came in, but by the grace of the gods — and I mean that literally — Keladry was with them, and took charge when the older pages who should have done so froze." Lord Wyldon's eyes were distant for a moment. "I didn't see it, of course, but from what we put together after debriefing them, it was clear she had weapons skills I hadn't appreciated. The work she was doing with her glaive in her own time meant she could use a spear as a polearm, and after gutting the leader she got the pages up a cliff path to a cave where they could shelter. I'll never forget it. Her lingering fear of heights made her very pale coming back down, and I foolishly thought it was sight of the corpses that was distressing her until Owen put me right. Jesslaw, that is. I made some disparaging comment, and he laid into me, explaining what had happened and that only Keladry's quick orders and steady hands had saved them." A smile glimmered. "That was the first time I heard anyone describe her command voice, and though I was unwilling to credit it then, Owen had it exactly right. I've heard it often enough since."

"She says, and you do?"

"Just so, and no delays. Who told you that?"

"My lord of Legann."

"Ah. Yes, he heard it at the siege, as we all did."

"He also said something I didn't understand, my lord, about Countess Keladry's command of everyone being funny, in a way most mortals had not understood, but he thought you had. And the gods most of all."

"Funny?" Lord Wyldon frowned. "I wouldn't say that, but Keladry will insist that the gods found events so."

Sam leaned forward. "She says that in her book, too, my lord, about her trick on the Scanrans being a divine jest. But Lord Imrah was talking of afterwards, and everyone, I don't know, tip-toeing around her when she wasn't yet of age."

"Well, that's true enough, Lord Saman. She surely drove the peace, as she ended the war, and I dare say there was a certain humour in seeing Councillors who'd rather disdained her before hanging on her every word. The Scanrans too, come to that. But I'd got used to it by then, frankly, receiving her reports, with one astonishment after another. Mmm. I believe I know what Legann meant, though. There _is_ an incongruity between her age and her power, and it's no use pretending otherwise, so one might see the humour of it. Vanget did. Did Legann tell you I consider her an invaluable education?"

"He did, my lord."

"Well, it's the same thing, I suspect. I was her Training Master, and she's kind enough to say I taught her well, but the truth is she taught me far better, and more far-reachingly. The page to whom I most objected, to the point of dishonour, turned out to be the finest knight I have ever known, as well as the most able commander in several generations, and however galling it was to realise it there's surely a jest of sorts in that." Lord Wyldon shrugged slightly. "You might do better asking Jesslaw, if you meet him, and can overlook his grammar. He says Keladry always catches us out on what he calls our own silly assumptions, and seems to think that applies to immortals as well, and even gods. It may seem impious, but I tend to think he has a point. Certainly, if you find something that Keladry — or anyone — has said or done confusing, the first step is to ask what you've been assuming that you shouldn't."

After that talk broadened a little before the evening ended with Taren canvassing Svein's tale of Rogal. Lord Wyldon confirmed it in full, but pleaded early business on the morrow, and though they regretted his swift departure all of them found his advice helpful though it was again Var who applied it most bluntly.

"I'm not sure what assumptions Sam's been making, Tar, but you've been thinking everyone will blame you because of _him_ and father, when they don't at all, and most seem pleased you're nothing like either. Even the elemental. And I've been thinking I needed to be more like _her_ , somehow, with self-defence and Shang techniques, but I can't be. The classes are useful, and knowing I can defend myself better gives me confidence, but I'm much more interested in mining and working with the immortals than I am in fighting, and that's what I should pursue."

Sam grinned. "Right you are, Var. Where I've been wrong, I think, is supposing I can't ever be a real fighter because it's too late to go for knight training, and Father was always so scornful of the army, but none of those Ownsmen are knights, and they've taught me a lot."

Taren stared at his brother. "Is that what you want, Sam? To join the Own?"

"I don't think so, Tar. I want to help at Stone Mountain, not be off somewhere else. But I do want to learn all I can — different weapons, and styles. It's satisfying in itself, not just so I can prove Father wrong. I think I'd like to learn other languages, too. Scanran, for starters."

And so they set about it, as March ran out and spring blossom brightened the trees. Lord Padraig had no problem with them all joining the pages in Scanran classes, supplemented by some private tuition, and there was a side benefit in that they made what might well prove useful contacts. The Miners' Guild was out-of-bounds, but Elimiaju was always happy to see Var, and though the capital district was not mining country, Lord Wyldon put them on to a Master Armourer in the city who kept a forge, and if surprised to be asked soon expressed approval of Var's knowledge and desire to learn more. For Taren himself time hung rather heavier, until he discovered the riches of the Palace Library, and with it a new consciousness of one more thing in which Stone Mountain was lacking. Thereafter he combined days of study, parsing Scanran or reading histories of Tortall and neighbouring lands, with forays to bookshops, buying sufficiently to make him a very welcome presence and gleaning recommendations to supplement his studies.

There was also an object lesson in political regency available, in watching how Prince Liam, His Grace of Naxen, and Lord Wyldon were dealing with matters in Their Majesties' absence. Some cases were firmly shelved to await the royal return, others promptly dealt with, one way or another, and on one memorable occasion a seemingly routine request by a minor southern noble to increase his armed retinue, as a defence against bandits, was deftly exposed by Lord Wyldon as an attempt to intimidate a neighbouring lord with whom he had a boundary dispute. Attendance at court sessions was also an education, not least in that a pair of griffins now routinely flanked the witness box, silently enforcing truth, and all the sitting magistrates reacted severely to any indication whatever that anyone was seeking to lie. It was, Taren gathered, the Wildmage who had arranged it, but Countess Keladry who had discovered that griffins actually liked sitting in courts, when she had used the pair at New Hope during her enquiry into Captain Rogal's responsibility for Sir Merric's death. The immortals' guerdon for their service was bowed thanks and fresh fish, but there was a further aspect in their delivery of moulted feathers, which went to army bowyers — and the Ownsmen were happy to show him and Sam why griffin-fletched arrows were well worth having available.

The siblings also spent days exploring the city together, walking the circuit of the walls, visiting every temple, and seeing for themselves just what a difference the King's wedding gift and icelights had made in the Lower City. The latter led Taren to recall his determination, and seek out Elimiaju to place a definite order for Stone Mountain, though it would take a while, icelights being one Guild product everyone wanted. The delay, Elimiaju explained, was in basilisk time, for their abilities were essential not only to icelights but also to the petrified spidren webbing the army and many sea-captains wanted, as well as to mining and other pressing work, but Taren's order was at least on the waiting list. Exploring deeper into the Lower City, he also found a Protector's Maid who did portraits and other artwork, and commissioned a drawing of the three of them sitting together, to send to their mother with their birthday gift of fine basilisk stoneware. Tipping the Maid generously for her prompt execution of it, he was astonished when she demurred.

"T'ain't needful, me lord, and I 'eard you gave a lot to Lal for the classes."

"It may not be needful, ma'am, but you do very fine work, and swiftly. I'd not be thought ungrateful. Besides, I'm sure you can find a better use for it than sitting in a goldmiths' vault."

"Well, if you insists, me lord. Thank ye kindly. And maybe you'll take something else, so's we're a bit squarer."

She gestured at the many small drawings hanging on the walls of her shop, and though Taren was doubtful something caught Var's eye.

"Is this Countess Keladry, ma'am?"

The Maid went over, and nodded. "Yes 'tis, me lady. I went with Lal and the others to 'er weddin', and that's 'er with 'er 'usband, when they was receivin' gifts before the ceremony. I've some others too, if you'll wait a moment."

The portfolio she produced was breathtaking, though all were sketches and clearly done swiftly. Her commentary made every one of intent interest to them all, but Taren restricted himself to three, besides the miniature Var had seen, and despite protests insisted on paying properly, as well as adding to his tip. One showed the Countess on her own, a quizzical look on her face as she peered at a small box in her hand, and a second was of her with a fair-haired boy the Maid said was her adopted son, Tobeis the largest was a panorama of the wedding, dense crowds in the foreground dwarfed by the vast shape of Lord Diamondflame, Their Majesties and a phalanx of nobles to one side, a large group of immortals on the other, and behind bride and groom the antlered figure of Lord Weiryn beside the Green Lady, flanked by hounds reaching to their shoulders, whom the Maid identified as the lead couple of the Wild Hunt. Sketch or no, all visible faces were vividly alive, the happy wonder of the occasion evident there was even a sense of divine benison in the rendering of the gods, smiling as they bore witness. Once it had been framed, Taren hung it in a reception room of the townhouse, and was amused to see that the servants were as interested as anyone, and often paused as they passed it to stare, and sigh amazement.

After watching them for a few days Taren took the framed image and went to the Weavers' Guild in Jane Street, asking for the only ranking member he knew, Mrs Weaver's husband Tomas. It took a while for the message to pass, but when the man appeared, puzzlement in his eyes, Taren showed him the drawing, receiving an appreciative nod, and enquired what a tapestry version to fit the great hall at Stone Mountain might cost. The answer, even for him, was eye-watering, and the time involved very lengthy things he'd heard spun into an idea in his head.

"Tell me, Journeyman Weaver, would I be right to think your guild — and I don't mean you personally — owes Countess Keladry some thanks? Her Majesty yet recalls the feast here, at your wedding."

"Certainly, my lord. Which has what to do with the price of peas in Persopolis?"

Taren grinned. "I was wondering what that price and delivery date might be if I included a second copy, of a size you who have been to New Hope deemed appropriate, for the Weavers' to gift to the Protector."

Tomas Weaver's eyes showed his appreciation, and after a moment of calculation his face broke into a wide grin.

"What an interesting proposal, my lord. Lal's been watching your purchases from the other Maids with approval, but this'll tickle her pink. She'll want one herself."

"Add a third by all means, if it is the same size as the sketch."

"By no means, my lord. That one will be on me. But I'm ahead of myself. This is business for the Guildmaster."

That gentleman not being foolish, a deal was soon agreed, and Taren felt he gained some more ground by insisting that both the Weavers and the Maid who'd drawn the original be consulted about colours. The extracted sketch was carefully traced, and he happily paid a sufficiently large deposit that no-one could think him anything but deadly serious re-hanging the sketch he explained to Sam and Var what he'd done, and was rewarded with warm hugs that left him thoughtful. For him the real value of the drawing was its embodiment of his father's words about Countess Keladry walking with the gods. She might in this case be standing with them, but if the Maid had caught their expressions rightly, which he thought she probably had, Lord Imrah had been right to speak of divine friendship. Even the hounds of the Hunt looked benign in their regard, and as much might be said of immortals : Lord Diamondflame's face wasn't shown, but the curved neck and angled head indicated the great dragon's attention, and others also seemed intent — ogres, basilisks, a huge spidren who must be Quenuresh, and stormwings perched on rooves. The Countess herself, in three-quarter profile, looked transcendently happy, gaze locked with her groom's whether _that_ could be caught in threads was moot, and Taren found himself wondering, not for the first time but more intently than before, what all the divine attention meant to _her_. It must surely have been as disruptive for its recipient as for everyone else, and the thought was abruptly given a new and intense weight when, just after the ides of April, Their Majesties and the Crown Couple returned from Yaman.

They arrived very late in the evening, riding from Port Caynn, and by first light, when Taren rose, Vesker reported the city already thick with rumour of yet more extraordinary events involving the Protector. Whether she had stopped a revolution in Yaman, or started one, was less than clear, but someone had done something wicked enough to enrage her, and paid the mortal price such a fool might expect. And she had once again called down many gods, and summoned many immortals, in righteous vengeance, and generally turned Yaman as upside-down as she already had Tortall and Scanra, with results just as marvellous and beneficial, however no-one quite knew how, or why. That the divine name most prominent was that of Lord Sakuyo was no surprise, but Lords Mithros and Weiryn were in there too, with the Graveyard Hag and her hyena, and Var earned herself some very curious and respectful looks from the chattering servants by earnestly remarking that she expected that was Lord Dabeyoun, who already guarded the cemetery at New Hope. By noon the tales had taken on lives of their own, burgeoning with magical buildings, scores of people petrified, and vast storms of blossom or, bizarrely, handkerchieves that appeared from nowhere. Almost everyone seemed to have abandoned any work they might be supposed to be doing in favour of excited gossip, and when word spread that His Majesty would be making a public proclamation at teatime, on the common between City and Temple District, an exodus began immediately.

Realising that if they wanted to be able to see and hear anything they'd best get moving themselves, Taren gave permission to the servants, and with the house locked behind them the siblings went too. The assembled crowd was already vast, and Taren was relieved to see an area to one side had been roped off for nobles, but progress through the cheerful throng was slow, and as they at last neared it he was interested to see Mrs Weaver and her husband being escorted to the front by a rather ugly but smiling man before whom a path opened like magic. The day was warm, the spring sun bright, and several enterprising vendors were offering fruit juices and water, so Taren took advantage for himself, his siblings, and the servants. Entering the roped-off area he found his actions noted with approval by Lord Imrah, as cheery as ever, and they exchanged news of Legann and Stone Mountain for a while, until a fanfare announced His Majesty.

The Queen and Crown Couple accompanied him, with a stocky, purple-eyed woman who could only be the Lioness and an older couple Imrah identified as _her_ parents, Their Graces of Mindelan, but it was the King himself who spoke, a mage behind him boosting his voice so all could hear. His voice was at first very dry, reporting a successful visit that had deepened goodwill between rulers and secured valuable military and trade agreements, especially with the Craftsbeings' Guild, but he then wryly acknowledged that there had been certain unexpected and remarkable events, and as he would rather all knew the truth, he would tell them exactly what had happened, in so far as he understood it. The tale that followed was utterly extraordinary, but sequence and detail were perfectly clear — a Yamani lord called Michizane noh Fujiwara who had been selfishly disaffected with imperial rule, and ordered an attempt to kill the dragon kit, Lady Skysong, foiled by the Countess-Protector and most thoroughly punished by rightful proceeding of the Craftsbeings' Guild, acting with the explicit consents of Lords Mithros and Weiryn. Dragons, basilisks, griffins, stormwings, and even the Wild Hunt had each been called to play their proper parts, marshalled and led by the Countess-Protector, presiding as Guildmaster, and the outcome had been the petrification for permanent warning display of all the most culpable offenders, from the would-be assassin to Lord Fujiwara himself. By special request of the Countess-Protector the Graveyard Hag had allowed all present to see Lord Dabeyoun drag the guilty souls free of the stone that encased them and chase them out of the Mortal Realm, and while it was true Lady Keladry had then slept for thirty-six hours straight to recover from her labours, she had taken no harm and was already safely ashore at Mindelan and on her way back to New Hope.

At that juncture the King swore a gods' oath that he spoke truly, and chimes rang in witness, but he wasn't done, and his voice became wry.

"It's not that I have any intention of saying anything untrue, people, only that I'm not at all sure I understand the rest of what happened, so attesting any account of it by gods' oath seems unwise. But one of the things we went for was to attend the dedication of a new temple to Lord Sakuyo, designed and built in the western port-city of Edo by the Craftsbeings' Guild, and after all that excitement in Heian-kyó we went there to do so. I am told by the Godborn that all gods have the right to attend dedications of their own temples and shrines, so it was expected that Lord Sakuyo would manifest, and he did." The crowd murmured, and the King held up a hand. "Wait for it. What was less expected was that when he did so he decided both to rebuke one of his own priests for failing to appreciate his sense of humour, and to commemorate the event by painting it, with all in attendance." Silence replaced murmurs, gripping all. "He is a very good painter, and has now depicted Lady Keladry four times. But what really left everyone reeling, Yamani and Tortallan alike, was that while he got on with his painting he also opted to … chat, I suppose, with Lady Keladry." The King shrugged eloquently. "They were speaking Yamani, so I have only reports of what was actually said, but I'd imagine you all know he called her his favourite daughter in the paragraph he added to her book, and he showed that to be true beyond doubting. All that really matters, though, is that he also strongly approved what she had done to Lord Fujiwara and his allies, and thanked her for once again aiding in what he called a great jest. _Another one_."

The King shook his head, as if to clear it, and there was, Taren thought, a certain appreciation in the intent crowd.

"So there it is, and you can make of it what you will. What I make of it is the obvious — _don't_ mess with dragons, and _don't_ mess with the Countess-Protector, ever, for any reason, which means not messing with the Craftsbeings' Guild." Taren assumed the King's glare was aimed at some guildsmen. "And I will add that while details remain to be decided, a temple to Lord Sakuyo will be constructed here as a matter of urgency, and his feast day, which is April 1st, will from next year be properly observed, Mithros preserve us. That's all."

Taren suspected the Lioness and His Grace of Mindelan might have had things to add, given a chance, but they departed with the royals, and he found Imrah quirking eyebrows as a great buzz of wonderment arose.

"I told you Kel was as much friend as servant to the gods, and it seems I was right. To Lord Sakuyo, anyway." Imrah laughed. "You'll be having an even more interesting time at New Hope than you would anyway. Just remember to enjoy it, eh?"

Taren shook his own head, fiercely for a moment, and for the first time felt a real sympathy for the King.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 4: Chapter Three - Heading North Chapter Text

 **Three : Heading North**

 _Great North Road, 13–26 April 464 HE_

HAVING promised to do so, it was necessary to send once more to Countess Keladry, confirming their trip, but as Taren wrote the letter next morning, offering further congratulations and asking if they might try to arrive before Beltane, he was interrupted by a nervous servant informing him that Sir Alanna of Olau and Pirate's Swoop requested an audience. Sam was sparring at the Palace, but having ordered refreshments Taren collected an equally surprised but excited Var, and went to see what the Lioness could possibly want.

They found her studying the panoramic sketch with approval, and explaining its origins allowed for some mutual assessment. What she thought of him Taren couldn't imagine, though she said Lord Imrah had commended him, assuring her Stone Mountain had taken a decided turn for the better close to, her purple eyes were deeply disconcerting, but there was also an unexpected cheerfulness in her manner that Var guilelessly remarked.

"Quite right, Lady Varia, and you can chalk it up to _not_ being on a ship any more. I find sea travel unremittingly ghastly, and fascinating as the Copper Isles and Yaman were I am _very_ happy to be back on a proper continent where a horse is all you need." She grinned. "I'm also still as amused about Kel and Lord Sakuyo upending Yaman as Jon is grumpy at being outmatched, again, but if we get into that I'll be here all day."

Taren didn't think Var would have minded, and was himself intrigued by the familiar description of the King, but with glasses of fruit juice served the Lioness became briskly informative.

"Kel asked me to stop by, Lord Taren, to apologise for not replying sooner to the letter you sent when the Yaman trip was announced — she was distracted by her twins, she said, which seems fair enough — and to tell you you're expected at New Hope as soon as you care to head north."

"Ah. Thank you, Sir Alanna. I was just writing to ask if a visit was still convenient."

"I don't know about convenient — New Hope's always buzzing, and Kel's got plenty on her plate — but you will be welcome."

Taren blinked. "Besides new twins, who are thriving, I trust, what sort of plenty, Sir Alanna? I don't wish us to be an ill-timed burden."

"Don't fret, Lord Taren, Kel's always busy, and the plenty won't stop anytime soon. She was expecting some fighting ogres and a Clanchief's guard that's been wished on her, and there'll shortly be imperial samurai and spidrens too, as well as the new Fourth Company of the Own. Oh, and some Yamani engineers, I believe. Fun all round."

"Fun with engineers?"

Var's voice was a squeak of excitement.

"Eh? I doubt it — Kel has a bee in her bonnet about making the Vassa navigable, and the Yamanis know how to get round rapids, but it'll be a brute of a job. I meant militarily, Lady Varia. Integrating ogres and Scanrans would be interesting enough, never mind having samurai and spidrens in the mix. And gods but those spidrens are fast. I'm quite jealous, really, and the cross-training'll be one for the books. Nothing to stop you all going, anyway, and the twins are certainly thriving, Lord Taren, which leads to the second thing, because Kel had to delay their namedays while she went to Yaman, so those are due at Samradh, which with her birthday just after means a _lot_ of people will be heading north."

Taren nodded, having realised they might find themselves attending a nameday, demanding appropriate gifts, and added a birthday to the list. The Lioness surprised him with a laugh that could only be called a cackle.

"Well, Jon declines to go, saying publically that he's fed up with travelling, and privately that he's had quite enough of Protectors and gods for a bit, so Thayet will probably stay as well. But Roald's standing as godsparent to young Lalasa, as are her namesake and Lady Yukimi, while Shinko's one of young Merric's, with Sir Neal and Cavall, which is very Kel, not to mention priceless. They'll be glaring at one another so hard they'll forget to take their oaths. And I shall go with George, mostly for pleasure and a proper ride, but I also want a word or seven with Numair, who refuses to leave his spell-blending seminar. Now, Lalasa can't be away for any longer than she must, nor Roald and Shinko, so they and some other Maids will travel with an army escort in June — accompanying Lianne and her party as far as the Galla Road. But Lalasa wants to send one of her senior seamstresses now, to fuss over the nameday gowns and sort out young Tobeis and Irnai, who've both grown, as well as Dom's wardrobe, and Kel's amenable, though she rolled her eyes, so we wondered if you'd mind acting as an escort. There's bolts of cloth and whatnot to go as well, meaning packhorses, but Thayet's authorised use of the palace pool so they'll be good beasts, with a groom or two to look after them, and shouldn't slow you down much, if at all."

Taren, if taken aback both by the casual flood of information and the wholly unexpected request, was happy to agree, promising to visit Mrs Weaver that afternoon, and the Lioness nodded.

"Good, and thank you on Kel's behalf, Lord Taren. I'll let her know once she's back at New Hope. When do you mean to leave?"

"As soon as may be, Sir Alanna. Not more than a few days, certainly. Corus has been enjoyable and instructive, but we seem to have been waiting to meet Countess Keladry for a very long time."

"And you'd like to be done with apologising, I expect." Those purple eyes were suddenly very shrewd, and Var was fighting a grin. "One word of advice, Lord Taren. I understand why you feel obliged to offer her one, but if it's to your credit that you do, you still weren't responsible for Joren's vileness or your father's selfishness, so once you've got it off your chest, let it go. Don't be too grateful either — Kel's rather allergic to being thanked, even when there's cause piled as high as the gods, and once she's heard from Lalasa she'll want to be thanking _you_."

Taren's slight umbrage dissolved in his surprise. "Whatever for?"

"Apologising to Lalasa, for starters. _That_ was well done. And discombobulating the elemental will come a close second." The cackle was infectious, though Taren didn't think he'd done any such thing. "Your down-payment theory is interesting as well. Besides, Kel's never quite forgiven it for calling her the Protector of the Small, though the gods know she protects almost everything."

"Can you tell us about her protecting Lady Skysong, Sir Alanna?"

A finger wagged. "Not before I have to be elsewhere, Lady Varia, but she was entirely splendid, as Lord Sakuyo said." The Lioness rose, grinning, and pointed to the panoramic sketch. "Just imagine ninety-eight more of Wuodan and Frige, led by Kel riding the male Horse God and trailed by two very large dragons with most of the Stone Tree Nation. All up in the air. And, again by Lord Sakuyo's testimony, with any number of gods laughing themselves silly about the whole thing. Or laughing themseves sensible, maybe, which is even better." Her look became thoughtful. "Go gently, but Kit'll probably be ready to talk about it herself by the time you get to New Hope. Or Tobe — he enjoyed more of it, and wasn't anything as upset. Just don't ask Kel. Or Dom. And have a safe journey."

The house seemed rather smaller and oddly quiet once the Lioness had breezed out, until a bemused Taren shook himself and goosed servants and guards into accelerated preparations to depart. Given the images she had left in his and Var's minds, both felt some lunch was in order, but as soon as he'd eaten Taren headed out for Stuvek Street. Mrs Weaver was busy with clients, but Elma Spinner, the woman she wished to send north, was a trim and efficient widow in her 40s, whose bags were already packed ; she assured Taren other preparations were well in hand, and before he left a boy hastily despatched to the Royal Stables returned to confirm a dawn departure the day after next.

Returning to the house Taren detoured to call on Journeyogre Elimiaju, letting him know what had been decided, taking his leave, and asking if there were anything else he might convey to New Hope. There wasn't, but the immortal said he appreciated the courtesy, adding that he had passed word of what Lady Varia had said about their needs at Stone Mountain to the Guild's senior masterminer, Kuriaju, who would be expecting Taren to seek him out.

"Thank you, Elimiaju. That is very helpful." Taren tossed a mental coin, and took a chance. "I must confess I've been wondering what you made of the news from Yaman."

"I am still thinking about it, Lord Taren, but it seems stone and fire have spoken again, as well as Lord Sakuyo."

"Oh." That wasn't what Taren had had in mind, but he'd take anything offered. "Um, stone in the petrifications, I suppose. But fire?"

"Lady Skysong was obliged to kill with dragonfire in defending herself and the Protector. It was a further reason for the dragons' rage at what happened, for she is very young to bear such a burden. I believe Lord Fujiwara's compound burned also, in the aftermath of the Protector's justice. And not only petrifications, Lord Taren, for there is also the new stonework Manian'aan and Fariaju achieved with Lord Sakuyo's temple. It is not easy to describe, but the building is a hemisphere, of bonded and petrified wooden panels, and Manian'aan managed to vary the translucency so an image of the god formed of two _kanji_ , meaning _jest_ and _tranquility_ , appears in light inside." Taren tried entirely unsuccessfully to imagine this, and received an ogre smile he thought might be a little teasing, though it wasn't easy to tell. "So you might say we do now know more clearly a part of what stone has said."

"Stone said _jest_ and _tranquility_?"

"And _Sakuyo_ , yes. The _Stone Fools_ , as the petrified dead were named by Tobeis, are more a warning from the basilisks, I think, supporting the dragons, and all the louder for having been uttered by their eldest, Haarist'aaniar'aan. It is long since he last visited the Mortal Realm, but he came because, as Lady Skysong was obliged to kill, so too was the youngest basilisk, Amir'aan. Who also used the rock spell, of course, and _that_ petrification may be another matter. Earfiller must be pondering it, so you might ask him."

Amused despite his genuine bafflement, Taren raised an eyebrow. "And would I understand the answer?"

Elimiaju grinned. "Probably not, and it would take a while. But I was not wholly unserious, Lord Taren. Your conduct here has been noted and approved by many, as the words of Macarran have passed among immortals, and it has occurred to more than one of us that the name of your fief, and the nature of the immortal aid you seek, may not be so resonant with the Protector's tale without reason. I cannot tell you it is so, but certainly your care of younger siblings and the children of your liegers is consonant with the turn the Timeway had taken. So I think stone may also be speaking through you, and Lady Varia, desiring the order you would restore to it. What you ask is your business, but Earfiller would not scorn your question, nor Kuriaju."

What to make of that Taren had no idea at all, nor Sam or Var when he reported it over tea, with additional details about Yamani events gleaned from Elimiaju. Speaking stone might be incomprehensible, and a partly translucent hemispherical building that told divine jokes beyond imagination, but dragon and basilisk rage for kits threatened and obliged to kill was neither, and the King had said nothing about anyone's compound being burned, nor about Countess Keladry's son naming the petrified dead with such terrifying humour. Var was sure the boy wasn't more than twelve or thirteen, but he was a veteran of the siege and more, as Sam reminded them by mentioning Svein's shock at his having accompanied Lady Keladry when she executed Rogal. Even so, it was disconcerting to realise the grimly deadpan jest in his naming, especially if it had been made in Yamani. Their conversation trickled on into supper, but Var was more interested in those Yamani engineers and the idea of the building, and Sam in the Lioness's words about ogres and Scanrans cross-training, so more abstract and perhaps theological questions were abandoned.

But they did not leave Taren's mind, and the following day, having replenished his ready funds for the journey from the goldsmith-banker, he asked for the Stone Mountain chest to be brought from the vault. Although never itself a source of gemstones, more than one previous lord of Stone Mountain had invested surplus wealth in durable rock, and Taren had already withdrawn a pair of small matched emeralds to adorn the napkin-rings that were his nameday gifts — a safely traditional choice made interesting by the quality of the gems. And he had wondered about a more substantial gift for _her_ , deciding in the end that it was too great a presumption as well as open to misunderstanding. But Elimiaju's words had offered a different logic that might be tenuous but had kept him awake late, for among the accumulated treasures was an unflawed blood-red ruby, too large for a ring and too perfect to break up it was said once to have been among the Thanic royal regalia, and its size and purity had at some juncture earned it a name — the Firestone. Lying in its velvet case it didn't seem to deserve it, but when Taren held it to the light many colours of fire stirred in its depths. Was it foolish to think the name a clue, even a prompt to see it being used for something, rather than stifled in the dark? He could just imagine what his father would have said about such an idea, but then heard Var's voice telling the King that the elemental could not exercise a privilege if it was denied a choice. Nor could Countess Keladry, or the Guild, and having restored the ruby to its case he pocketed it, signing the inventory kept with the gems. Thinking of the Countess's birthday, he also took a beautifully worked opal brooch.

Other necessary gifts had all been dealt with. Besides the napkin-rings he had purchased a collection of educational toys, confident that if unneeded by the Countess they would find grateful homes somewhere at New Hope, and some simpler but pleasing dolls a Protector's Maid created. For Tobeis there was a beautifully tooled leather belt, with a sheath for a knife. Adults had been trickier, but his contact with Tomas Weaver had gleaned descriptions of the house New Hopers had collectively given their Countess as a wedding-present, with confirmation that there were plenty of things it could still use. With the Countess in mind he had bought a selection of the finest blankets and household linen he could find, and thinking of her husband, an entirely unknown quantity, a case of fine southern wine, despite its unwelcome weight. What one could in courtesy give immortals remained uncertain Elimiaju had laughed and said it was unnecessary, but when pressed indicated that basilisks liked stone delicacies, such as coral and fossils, ogres could always use fresh spices, and all spidrens, not only Macarran, had a sustained weakness for strong cheese. Taren hadn't thought he'd be able to buy fossils, but it turned out there was a stall in the Daymarket that sold them, polished up, as ornaments, so a selection had joined the packets of spices and several rounds of cheese, as tightly sealed as could be managed. All in all, he felt confident he'd done what he could, and knew both Sam and Var had themselves chosen guesting gifts to offer, but even so he spent an hour wandering through the Daymarket and another visiting more expensive shops in Patten and Upmarket, adding jewellery trinkets, seeds, and hanks of good wool to his armoury.

Much of his last evening in Corus was necessarily spent first with Vesker, going over travel arrangements, then with the house-steward, ensuring he understood what did need sending on to New Hope, what he could deal with on his own authority, and what should be referred to Commander Svein. Though an appointee of his father's, Erral Sawyer was relatively young, his elderly predecessor having suffered an apoplexy not long after his employment as a deputy, and Taren had grown confident in his loyalty and sense. Once it had become clear the young lord of Stone Mountain was open to change, Erral had made helpful suggestions about things that could be done more efficiently, and the household had responded warmly to the improvements. He also kept a useful ear to the ground, proving it again by telling Taren that while the new spellmirrors had, during the war, been restricted to the military, that might soon change, and asking if he should seek to purchase a pair or two. The magical devices were on Taren's New Hope wish-list, but he gave Erral a free hand for a larger Corus–Stone Mountain pair and as many smaller, personal ones as could be had, with black opals if possible, so the Ungifted could use them. Perhaps the single greatest difficulty left by the war was a serious decline in mage numbers, and even very generous offers could not hire people who were not there to be hired. Then there was only his own final packing of his personal saddlebag before he could seek a welcome bed and sleep soundly.

They were fed and saddled by dawn, yawning in chill air, and Mrs Spinner was waiting at the corner of Daymarket, well-mounted, with three laden packhorses and a sleepy groom. The placid Olorun was fiery with low sunlight as they crossed Kingsbridge, and with the roads only beginning to fill it was an easy ride across Prettybone and Highfields to the North Gate. In the wide valley the city remained visible for a while, but by mid-morning they topped the northern ridge and at last left it behind.

New sights were again of interest to all the siblings. For several days out of Corus the land was gently rolling, fertile valleys separated by low downs that offered good grazing, and settlement was far denser than in the east. The road was well-built, wider rivers or gullies sturdily bridged, but some fords were more of a challenge, and at one they had to wait several hours until the effects of a spring cloudburst, still visible to the west, subsided and the grooms judged it safe for the packhorses. A mule-train carrying sea-salt bound for eastern Scanra and Galla was also delayed, and they passed the time pleasantly enough, talking to the muleteers and tracing on Taren's maps the route they'd be taking, on the Galla Road that cut across north-eastern Tortall to the City of the Gods and the headwaters of the Middle Drell.

Taren took care to ride for some of each day with Mrs Spinner, solicitous of her well-being, interested to know her better, and curious to understand the friendship her journey represented. She was no easy gossip, but that Taren already understood how the Protector's Maids system so improbably worked was enough to let her tell her own story her husband's death, from a slow tumour that had eaten their savings in healers' unavailing care before killing him, might have meant ruination, and nearly had, but Mrs Weaver heard the tale and needed skilled women as her business expanded. Mrs Spinner was good enough with a needle to have had her own business, and had been offered that choice, but a guaranteed and generous salary suited her better, and she had nothing but praise for the kindness of it — though there were some more pointed tales about ill-mannered clients who supposed Mrs Weaver would let them shame her in styles that could never suit their figures. About New Hope she was more reticent, though they did get a fuller tale of the wedding with, for the first time, an account of the paintings by Lord Sakuyo that had been among the gifts and a brief incident on their third day of travel won some more concessions.

In early afternoon they overtook a long and heavily laden wagon-train with a company of guards, and Mrs Spinner dropped out of their column to speak to the Wagon Master. Taren told Vesker to leave a couple of his guards as escort, and slowed their pace until the trailers caught up. Mrs Spinner obviously felt he was owed an explanation, and after thanking him for the guards said the wagons were bound for New Hope, their cargo including some heavier bolts of cloth she'd need, so she'd wanted to get an accurate estimate of when they'd be arriving.

"I've plenty of material for the children's clothes, my lord, and it may well be things they already have can have seams let out. We always allow generously for growth with younglings. But a proper wardrobe for Captain Dom's another matter, oh, Count Domitan, I should say, for all he's so wry about it."

"He is, ma'am?"

"Oh yes, my lord. Said he'd only been a captain for a year and needed time to get used to it, going from sergeant to count being too confusing for everyone." She laughed. "He meant it too, but that's what happens around Lady Kel, and him being stubborn about having a proper wardrobe for his rank doesn't help her, nor anyone."

All of that made perfect sense to Taren, so abruptly promoted himself and possessed of more new clothes than he'd ever had before, and he nodded.

"No, indeed. And how is it you were chosen to make this trip, ma'am?"

She hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "It's mostly Her Majesty's doing, my lord. When news they were all off to Yaman came in, she had Lal, Mrs Weaver, do some formal kimonos in a hurry, for her and the Lioness, and for Captain Dom and Tobeis, saying they'd not think of it themselves. Then she thought a bit, and said actually they both needed any number of proper outfits, like a bride's trousseau, which Lal and I could only agree with, having seen for ourselves at the wedding and after, so we set it up for when they came back. Then Her Majesty came by the other day to say that it was all on her, by way of thanks to them both for all they'd done in Yaman."

"Her Majesty is generous, as I have reason to appreciate myself. And forgive my asking, ma'am, but do you have any idea what it was they did, exactly? We've all been trying to digest the news from Yaman, but the only thing I've heard about either Count Domitan or Lord Tobeis is Lord Tobeis having named the, ah, rebels, I suppose, the ones who were petrified, anyway, as the _Stone Fools_."

"Oh!" Mrs Spinner's hand covered her mouth for a moment. "I'd not heard that, my lord, but I can hear Tobe saying it. And you're right, he is Lord Tobeis now, isn't he, not that he's any keener on titles than Captain Dom. I must watch myself. As to your question, my lord, who knows, but Lady Kel said at her wedding that she depends on him, so I expect she did some more, but I know no details, I'm afraid."

Sam, Var, and the royal groom were riding close behind, listening, and the groom diffidently said the Palace stables had been full of a tale about Lord Tobeis rubbing down the Horse God after the Protector had ridden him to lead the Wild Hunt, and some coaxing from Var got the man to open up a distinctly different angle, reflecting the experiences of servants who'd accompanied the royal party. Nothing changed in the main events, but there were many supplementary remarks, from the Protector's prodigious appetite after her long sleep, which had kept the kitchens sweating and hopping for a whole day, to a complete change in the attitudes of Yamani servants to their Tortallan counterparts — initially, it seemed, rather stand-offish and suspicious of foreigners, which the groom thought only to be expected, but then wondering and increasingly respectful, because immortals were so polite and on account of something that happened at a temple, and at the last openly deferential, eager for any connection with the Protector.

That Taren thought about hard, for Svein had spoken of the intense personal loyalty Countess Keladry had won from all at New Hope, whatever their kind or degree he'd seen for himself what she'd had the King and Wardsmen do for the Lower City, with the respect and affection it garnered her, beyond pride in her victories for Tortall and this sounded like more of the same. What little he knew of Yaman from reading suggested a rather rigid society, with distinctions of rank scrupulously observed, but what the King had said about the Countess punishing equally all who'd been guilty of the attack on Lady Skysong, and about _chatting_ with Lord Sakuyo, suggested she might have shaken that up, and was oddly resonant with this tale of winning over servants as much as the emperor. In a small way Taren had been trying the same tactics himself, building loyalty through proper care and willing kindness, and while his mind still balked at the scale on which the Countess seemed to operate, he was beginning to see more clearly the shape of the changes she was driving, and the effects they would have.

He had not, he thought, been wrong to think Stone Mountain hopelessly behind the times, weakened in social isolation through his father's overweening pride, but there were more qualifying factors than he had tallied. One was that many Tortallan proprieties and engrained habits had only recently been challenged, most obviously in the re-emergence of lady knights and the return of immortals, so changes elsewhere, if more accepted in principle, were in practice less advanced than he had first thought. A second was that the radical changes the Countess and Guild were driving were newer still, to everyone, so much so that this trip put him ahead of the curve. That wagon-train was a case in point, for it was larger, more heavily laden, and better guarded than anything else they'd passed, a material indication of New Hope pulling wealth northwards and that reflection prompted him to spend much of the following day gently extracting from Mrs Spinner her understanding and opinions of the way the Corus guilds had behaved, and what might be desired in their future behaviour.

The general matter was there to be seen all about, for the further north they went the clearer the penalties of climate. By their fifth and sixth days it was obvious that the uplands supported smaller herds, and valleys either had only small, swift streams with little room for planting, or, when shallower and possessed of decent bottomland, already had every available inch ploughed. Forest also became commoner, and the inn they stayed at on one long stretch through woodland was clearly run through hunting and gathering, with flour and hay carted in from the last valley, more than twenty miles back. The road was also being kept clear, he suspected, more by traffic than work-crews, and there were places where everyone had to crowd to one or another side to avoid muddy seeps or crumbled dips. There _were_ signs of some care — ruts or potholes filled, branches cut back, and occasional gravel — but the downside of heavier traffic was increased wear, and Var agreed that more serious action would be needed within a few years.

They were lucky with the weather and took advantage, riding as hard as the welfare of the horses allowed. Late on the ninth day they arrived at Queensgrace, where the Galla Road headed off for the north-east, and the waymeet was marked by a small town with three inns. Vesker said they were making excellent time but resting the horses for a day would be wise. Taren agreed, swallowing impatience, and they spent the restday visiting the nearby castle at Princehold, where the lord was absent but the steward showed them round during the evening, though, he found it increasingly hard to keep his temper with the innkeep, whose manner was gratingly obsequious and whose cleanliness and reckonings equally suspect. They'd chosen the _Jug and Fire_ as the largest inn, to give everyone a room, but the innkeep seemed to think their extra day an excuse to try hiking the bill with needless extras no-one had ordered or consumed. Vesker was indignant, his guards having been charged for drinks and broken crocks they'd never seen, and for the first time on the journey Taren consciously drew on his lordship and demanded the magistrate be summoned the bill was soon reduced to what it ought to be, and a formal complaint registered that he suspected from the signs of collusion between innkeep and magistrate would go nowhere. A word with Vesker produced the information that an army messenger heading south was staying at one of the smaller inns, and before they left next dawn he intercepted the man to add to his pouch a polite note to Duke Turomot suggesting some investigation was in order.

North of Queensgrace the headwaters of the Tellerun soon became unnavigable, and the Road entered a long stretch of flatter scrubland, broken by occasional farms supporting more goats than sheep or cattle. The effects of lacking any major river system between here and the basins of the Drell and Vassa were evident : simple wayhouses rather than inns had clearly been the norm during the war, but with trade picking up settlements were beginning to develop, expanding basic farrier and ostler services with larger smithies, better stabling, and some variety in the food available. One had acquired a hedgewitch who'd approved the smith's gentle giant of a son, and they were all grateful for some balm to ease saddlesores, a little coarse and unscented, but effective. Another, thirty miles further north, had become a stud for mules, and after carefully observing the new owners, two sisters and their husbands, a dinner conversation ranging over their intent to provide exchange animals for trains, and hopes to expand into a proper horse stud, led Taren, after consulting Sam and Var, and checking that the couples had no liegelord, to offer them an investment and secure their delighted agreement. They gained security and could expand much sooner than they'd thought possible, while he was sure he'd get his money back in the medium term, and profit in the longer : business was plainly going to increase, they'd seen a genuine opportunity, and were impressive as a tightknit family, and in handling stock and customers. Another timely army messenger heading south agreed to carry Taren's letters to his goldsmith-banker and House Steward Sawyer, arranging credit and accommodation, with use of the mews for stabling.

Vesker ranged alongside him next day, happy with what he'd done but taken aback, and curious about his thinking, so they spoke of it, at first a little awkwardly. Taren was clearer about what he wanted to do than why, but it came down to two things : following Countess Keladry's lead in helping new businesses, for its own sake and to share wealth that shouldn't be hoarded, and redeeming the name and reputation of Stone Mountain with civility shown beyond its borders. Vesker listened, asking occasional questions, and steupsing from time to time as he thought something through. Then he surprised Taren considerably.

"Are you going to 'ave Protector's Maids at Stone Mountain, then, my lord?"

Taren had not put it so bluntly to himself, but didn't hesitate in replying. "If the Protector is willing I should, Vesker, but she may not be. So far she has established the scheme only in Corus and Port Caynn, both royal possessions, and she has Their Majesties' blessings. She might not wish to operate in another's fief — the way they're set up means she profits well despite real generosity in the arrangements, so each business would represent a flow of money out of the fief. A tax, in effect, and that raises hackles. But if she doesn't want Protector's Maids in Stone Mountain, then there'll be, I don't know, Lady Varia's Maids, maybe, or my mother's and aunt's, on the same model. I want a prosperous, loyal, and happy fief, and that means making it better for everyone. The Maids' scheme is a good one, and one way of achieving that." Taren's thoughts shifted, curiosity rising. "Do you have a particular reason for asking, Vesker?"

The senior guard looked down for a moment, then met his gaze fully.

"I do, my lord. My sister bakes a mean pie, and makes useful coin cooking for neighbours' birthdays, weddings, and the like. And Balter's wife's a dab 'and with cakes and biscuits. She can do that fancy icing, all roses and knots, as well as anything I've seen in Corus. I dunno as it's what they'd want, my lord, either of 'em, but I confess we've wondered a bit, Balter and me, since we been in Corus and seen 'ow …"

Taren raised an eyebrow. "Say it, please, Vesker, whatever it is. Mentioning something awkward because it comes up isn't the same as mentioning it with intent to … discombobulate." Vesker looked at him and he grinned. "I know, but the Lioness said it about something, so I had to look it up, and it was exactly right. It means to put someone out of their reckoning, with some upset. To make them unsure of themselves, leave them fretting. And that's not what you're about, so go ahead."

He received a stare, and a deep nod, as much of a bow as one might manage on horseback and in half-armour, returning a nod of his own.

"I was only going to say, my lord, that we've seen 'ow you're not like your father. No-one would ever 'ave been so stupid as to ask Lord Burchard for a loan so some guardsmen's wife and sister could set up a bakery, but you, my lord, well, you might say no, and say why, but you'd not leave a man feeling an inch 'igh for supposing 'e was worth the trouble of being refused out of 'and."

Inside, Taren shuddered, but kept his countenance. "I surely hope not, Vesker, and if you ever hear me trying to do such a thing, for the gods' sake tell me so at once. And while it will have to be something your sister and Balter's wife want, not something you and Balter want for them, if they do then surely, we'll sort that out, one way or another. Have you talked to Mrs Spinner about them?"

"A bit, my lord. I wouldn't offer detail before I knew it was alright with you."

"Thank you, Vesker, but go ahead. You write a fair hand, don't you?"

"I dunno about fair, my lord, but I can write."

"And Balter?"

"A bit, and nowise fair."

Taren grinned, but kicked himself. "Sort out some lessons, please, at New Hope if you can, and back at Stone Mountain as well. I'd like all my guards to have their letters, not just the Corus detail. And write to your sister, asking if she _does_ want and explaining how it works. Do you know yourself?"

As it turned out, Vesker did, to a considerable degree. The name Protector's Maids had made for talk, and that all were the Countess's paid servants, wages guaranteed and profits shared, was generally understood, as were the facts that temporary help, like kin who helped out when Midwinter boosted business, simply received pay in hand for work done, and that the Countess made substantial profits from the whole scheme. Asked about that, Vesker shrugged, brow creasing

"Folk know it's needed where it's going is what it comes down to, my lord. That money's not keeping her 'igh on the 'og, nor nothing like. It's paying for food and care 'er folk need. All them children she rescued too, and younglings cost, no matter what. And she's taken more. All the families of the convict soldiers 'ave been made to feel welcome, I'm told, and 'andsomely — they've been given 'omes, even landgrants, some of 'em, and all their kids go to school for free."

That was new to Taren, and as he heard more from Vesker and some other guards more pieces of the puzzle that was the Countess fell into some sort of order. There were a few stories of people being refused at New Hope, usually because they were skipping out on obligations elsewhere, and runaways had better have good reason, but once you were in all accounts agreed you were treated not only fairly but well, sometimes very well the other side of the coin being that not only loyalty and obedience but good standards of honesty, cleanliness, and hard work were expected from all. Real problems were dealt with swiftly, but petty complaints might receive short shrift. The free schooling was compulsory, and dealt with more than making sure all children had their letters and numbers : self-defence was included with exercise, adequate Scanran expected from all, and basic competence with at least one weapon. Taren had to think about that one, but realised that if you trusted your liegers it might have many beneficial effects, and one guard answered the other burning question by explaining that many siege veterans who'd been refugees had returned to their former lands, so the Tortallan half of the fief, at least, had plenty of people who were well trained.

It turned out that guard had a cousin in Genlith who knew someone who'd come north the previous year to claim a small landgrant held by an aunt and uncle killed when Anak's Eyrie fell a long Midwinter letter, dictated to a scribe and asking urgently for farm labour, had included enthusiastic descriptions of New Hope's many benefits. Taren shook his head, more in annoyance at himself for not tapping such sources sooner, and listened carefully to everything the man remembered. It included warnings, about needing to get along with immortals of all kinds, the hounds of the Wild Hunt smelling any serious guilt anyone bore, and the common shortage of healers, but was full of wondering satisfaction and praise from neighbours for the Countess as a far better liegelady than the late Sir Tyrral honest and fair as he'd been, he'd lacked something she had, and though the former fief had suffered badly, workparties with immortals were helping with repairs, and opportunities were there for the asking.

So half-a-dozen people had gone to New Hope from Genlith, and all the guards knew of families from Corus with similar tales. They had passed many small parties on the road that were also, Taren realised, probably bound for New Hope and the Countess's bounty, and while he had no clear idea of the new fief's population, it clearly needed to rise. The danger would be getting misfits and chancers, but you could build a populace with a desire to work and strong reasons for grateful loyalty. Add _that_ to the schooling and military training, with the sheer size of the lands granted New Hope, and words Taren had heard in Corus about the burgeoning political strength of the new fief, beyond its military importance as the centre of the border, made newly potent sense.

They had left the scrubland as the Road began to rise more seriously, and another two days brought them over some low hills, from the summits of which the horizon was smudged with the heights of the Grimholds, into the Brown River valley as the sun westered and shadows lengthened. Bearsford was a good thirty-five miles south of New Hope, but it was where the fief began, and Taren's thoughts were abruptly given material form. The town remained independent, without a liegelord, but as a frontier post had acquired, if not a garrison, a very visible military presence. Soldiers in a blue-gray livery stood with town guards at the gate, enquiring politely if travellers were continuing on the Great North Road, and informing those who were that to do so they would need tokens indicating that all adults and children able to walk had attended a briefing a large board displayed a simple map of the town, showing the central building where it would be held at the sixth bell. A carter ahead of them, with a tired-looking wife beside him and two thin children perched on his load, protested that they'd need to be eating then, and was briskly told that all innkeeps knew of the arrangement and would not be serving food until the seventh bell. And yes, tokens were absolutely necessary, for wife and children as well, or they would not be allowed to proceed. The carter wasn't happy, but Vesker cleared his throat loudly enough that he became aware of those behind him, and glumly got his cart moving again. One of the liveried soldiers grinned, thanking Vesker, then eyed them all and became brisk.

"You're the Stone Mountain party?"

"Yes. Lord Taren, Lord Saman, and Lady Varia, ten guards, four pack 'orses, and three grooms, also escorting Mrs Spinner, with three pack 'orses and one groom. I'm Vesker, senior guard."

"Thank you, sir. You're expected, and seats will be reserved at the briefing."

"Right, and thanks yourself. I like efficiency. Anything else I should know?"

"Not until you enter New Hope, sir, and that's what the briefing's for. Here it's the usual rules, and my town friends there keep good order."

"I 'ear you. Is there an inn you'd recommend?"

The soldier grinned again. "Despite that fellow, the _Drunken Carter_. Left at the main square. Good food, honest innkeep, used to large parties, and handy for the briefing."

Taren thanked the man as he passed the gate, receiving a salute, and they found the _Drunken Carter_ easily. Once washed and changed, they had half-a-mark before the briefing, spent ordering suppers that would be waiting when they returned, and wandering in a group around the main square — large and well-kept, with a brace of taverns that seemed orderly if plain by Corus standards, and interesting shops that stayed open late for travellers' trade. Enticing smells from a bakery had them all feeling the wait for food, and buying biscuits for eighteen earned Taren some extras thrown in, which he gave to a grateful Sam and Var.

The hall used for the briefing was a fair size, but there were enough travellers to need it. Even without their own party Taren counted seventeen, including the carter and his family, and more were entering behind them. A block of seats was indeed reserved for them, so they could sit together, and just as they heard the sixth bell rung in the square three liveried soldiers entered and went to a daïs at one end — the two from the gate flanking a burly man with sergeant's insignia, who surveyed them, giving a brief bow in Taren's direction.

"Anyone you remember missin', lads? Right then. Evenin', my lords, my lady, everyone. I know you all want your food, and are wonderin' what this is about, but the answer is keepin' you and yours safe, so listen carefully. You too, younkers."

That was to the carter's children, who sat straighter.

"When you leave here tomorrow you have to pass an inspection point. That's partly for the fief's safety. Personal weapons are allowed, but nothin' more, and you'll need to show all prepared drugs and any magical items. But it's mostly for your safety, because once you're in New Hope you'll be keepin' some interestin' company."

One of the soldiers drew aside a curtain, and _everyone_ sat straighter as they saw the row of large and detailed images. The sergeant didn't move, but as he went on the soldier pointed.

"You know we have treaties with immortals, and that means you're polite to any of them you happen to meet. You might know some of this, but you won't know it all.

"The ogres are most numerous, and adults are nine or ten feet tall, blue-skinned, and very strong. There are quite a few younkers, but that means six or seven feet tall and only five times stronger than you. Most here are farmers and miners, and have been with us a while, but at the Citadel there's a troup of fightin' ones Lady Kel just recruited, who'll be findin' it almost as new as you will. They're not mages.

"Next, basilisks are beaded lizards, about seven foot, and work stone anyway they want it. They are all mages, regardless of age, and there are a couple of younkers at the Citadel. They're always very polite, and most are kind-hearted, so you make sure you're properly respectful back. One thing, though — a deal of Guild work involves their rock-spell, which sounds like an avalanche with a lot of shriekin' in it. It'll make you jump the first few times you hear it, but it's no problem.

"Nor are spidrens, but they are harder on the stomach — big spider bodies but human heads with steel teeth. Some are mages, and all have magic webbin'. And here they come in two varieties. There're the ones who look to Quenuresh or Aldoven, who lair north of the Citadel, in woodland and the next valley east, or to Vendurant, up on the Smiskir. Their lands are not open to mortals without their let, so if you see a sign like that" — the soldier pointed to a red circle with a red bar across a human silhouette — "it means 'No Mortals Beyond This Point', so you stop and turn around, and no messin'. They'll keep themselves to themselves, unless you ask one somethin' or it sees you're in trouble it can help with, but you're more likely to meet the other kind — Yamani ones, who've come to serve here with some samurai warriors. It's a new arrangement, and there are only a few at present, but more are followin'. They're easy to spot because they're mailed and carry blades on their first four legs, and they have a responsibility to protect all usin' the Road."

Breaths were drawn in, the thought of armed spidrens not being a happy one, but the sergeant and soldiers didn't seem bothered.

"You'll also see stormwings — human bodies and heads, savin' the steel teeth, but steel wings and claws too. Naked, and that's just how it is, so get over gawpin' quick. Ours are from the Stone Tree Nation, ruled by Queen Barzha Razorwing, who has a glass crown, and her consort, Prince Hebakh, and if you meet _them_ you're talkin' to royalty and need to show it. Otherwise you'll probably not need to deal with any, but they are given to snarky comments. You can give as good as you get, but strictly words only, and _don't_ get into a cursin' match, cos you'll lose it, fast. If a number fly over you you might feel a bit of panic, but it's not deliberate, just how they are, and it'll pass as they do.

"You might also see griffins flyin' — lion body, but feathered, and eagle head. Mages. You can't tell lies around them. They've a ringin' cry, but don't talk so you or me can hear them, and the adults'll ignore you." The sergeant sighed. "There is, though, a kit, called Junior, who sticks his beak in anything that takes his fancy. Shoo him away, but _don't_ , as in _don't_ , try to hurt him, and if he's really done any damage tell the first person in livery you see."

Taren's eyes met Var's and Sam's. Clearly, Turomot had had a point about griffin impudence, but the sergeant wasn't done.

"Three to go. At the Citadel there are seventeen resident dragons, sixteen Guild apprentices and the Dean, Kawit Pearlscales. All mages, even those who haven't yet grown wings. Largest are pushin' twenty feet, snout to rump, and the smallest is about as big as a sheepdog. Don't talk to them unless one talks to you first, which one might because they're curious about mortals, and then you'll just hear words in your head and should be very polite about replyin'. They all take 'my lord' or 'my lady'.

"Then there are darkings. Chances are low you'll meet one anytime soon, but if a small black blob ever sticks out a little head and tells you something in a squeak, you listen carefully and obey. Orders from any darking are from the top, probably Lady Kel herself, and urgent.

"And last, but no way least, the hounds of the Wild Hunt have free run of all Lady Kel's woods, and in return guard you, as travellers on the Road. There's a hundred of them, about pony-size, and they are _not_ immortals. They are divine beings, and we all answer to them at our peril. You are not, however, obliged to feed 'em, even if they're wheedlin', but it's your call. They're also all well pleased with themselves, just now, having had some fun in Yaman, as I expect you've heard.

"Now, it shouldn't happen, but things do. If anyone has any dispute with an immortal, any immortal, what you _don't_ do is pursue it yourself, and what you _do_ do, is refer it to Lady Kel as fast as you can talk. The immortals co-operate with all of us, and recognise Lady Kel's authority. If you have a dispute with one of the hounds it means you're guilty of something bad, so you're probably toast, but if you've an honest story to tell, ask the hound to call in Wuodan and Frige, who are the only ones who can give them orders. Everyone clear on that? Any questions?"

There were a few, mostly people seeking reassurance that if they left immortals alone, immortals would leave them alone, and while the sergeant gave it cheerfully he warned them they would have dealings of some kind, sooner or later.

"It's what New Hope does, ma'am", he told a merchant's wife. "We all rub along together, and work out how we can do things better by co-operatin' than any kind can alone. Just remember that _you're_ the strangers here, not them, and keep an open mind."

The woman's pinched expression suggested she might find that hard, but the sergeant only grinned, and told them all that once the shock wore off and they saw the co-operation for themselves, they'd wonder how they'd ever done without it. Then he extended the advice to the foreign visitors they'd be mingling with, pilgrims and traders from Scanra, Yaman, Galla, and all over, before running through some more ordinary rules, with a few surprises among them : fires only in designated firepits, cut no living wood, all animals to be properly fed and cared for, and horses always picketed at night were straightforward no hunting or trapping without permission, and overnight stops only at wayhouses, were more stringent restrictions, but the wayhouse-keepers would provide good food to all at cost plus one copper half-bit a head and similarly, only designated latrines were to be used, but existed every two or three miles. Once they were on stone roads — a phrase that made Var twitch — which it seemed they would be from just north of Bearsford, animal manure must be shovelled aside also, but besides that rule there was only one toll in the whole fief, so anyone asking for money was to be ignored and reported that one toll was for crossing the bridge called Drachifethe, at Dragonstown — a prayer for the peaceful rest of the dragons it commemorated. In the deep silence that followed that statement, the sergeant closed with more reassurances that for all its strangeness New Hope was exactly that, for all who dwelt there and many who visited, and all they had to do was behave.

"Follow Lady Kel's rules and all will be well. Don't and it won't. Simple. And now you're free to seek your suppers as soon as you've collected a token. Don't lose them, or you'll wind up back here tomorrow night."

The soldiers were dealing with that, but the sergeant brought their tokens himself, and all eighteen, not singling out the nobles. Taren thanked him, and received a keen look as well as a nod.

"You're welcome, my lord. I let Lady Kel know you were here, and she'll be expectin' you about sunset tomorrow, unless anything comes up. And if it does, there'll be a message at Greenwoods Fork, where the Road turns down the valley. Anything else you need, my lord?"

"No, sergeant, but I'm curious. You clearly need those restrictions on camping and hunting, and using designated latrines, so I was wondering how many you've had through here. Are there always as many as this?"

"Oh it's up and down, my lord, but since the road's been open to wagons not less than a hundred settlers a week, and often more. And there were enough last fall for the latrines to be needed, or the verges would soon've been fouled. Same with huntin', as you guessed, and if some wouldn't do aught wrong, there's plenty who don't know what game not to take, so we're strict about it."

A smiling Mrs Spinner offered the sergeant her thanks, and strong approval for the whole process, before adding the likely arrival date of the wagon-train. Food was calling, though, and it wasn't long before they were enjoying an excellent stew, amid busy conversation. The briefing's matter of factness about wonders had sunk deep, stirring excitement in everyone, even Mrs Spinner who'd seen New Hope before, and the innkeep and his wife were willing to join them with stories of their own about immortals. Taren went to bed feeling replete yet oddly hollow with anticipation — a sense that chased him into dreams of stone and fire whispering words he could never catch but somehow found comforting.

The inspection point was barely a quarter-mile north of Bearsford, on the far bank of the Brown River, and impressively organised. The road beyond the bridgeway had been widened with thick gravel laid on both sides, and neat guard-huts with fencing created lanes — one for foot traffic and horses only, one for single carts or wagons, and one for trains. To the left, a latrine was clearly marked, and to the right more fencing enclosed pasture for horses, with a stable and farrier's smithy. A liveried corporal greeted them politely, took tokens, and recorded names and destinations, while other soldiers checked saddlebags and the packhorses' loads for weapons. One also had a band with two small jewels set in it that he was running over people and dunnage, and while submitting graciously to the examination Taren asked him what he did.

"They're magicked to find poisons and any other magic, my lord."

Such things were costly, but as Taren's eyebrows rose, the soldier grinned.

"Master Numair made 'em for Lady Kel, my lord. We had some trouble with poisons once before, so … hello." One stone had flickered a little by Taren's saddlebag. "Something magical in there, my lord?"

Puzzled, Taren was about to deny it, but had a thought. "There might be. We got some balm for saddlesores, from a hedgewitch at Smithy Halt, two days north of Queensgrace."

"Ah. Show me, please, my lord."

Taren did, and the stone glimmered when held by the little jar.

"Alright, my lord." The jar was returned, and a note made. "Must be a good hedgewitch to light this up."

"The balm worked well, certainly. Do you find much?"

"Mostly harmless things, like yours, my lord — folk with dreamrose, and the like, and pregnancy charms. But some not. Had a man last week who swore he'd nothing but his food in the bag, but he'd done some foraging south of town, to save on meals, and dug himself some wild horseradish, he reckoned, only it was wolfsbane, the looby. Stone was sun-bright next to it."

"Huh." Finding an accidental poison had never occurred to Taren, and recalled another story. "I'm surprised you don't have an Honesty Gate here as well."

He got a sharp look, followed by a grin.

"No flies on you, my lord. Lady Kel said she'd be asking Their Featherheads if they'd do one. But I must get on. We're busy this morning."

As others in his party were searched, Taren thought about the irreverent nickname for griffins and what its use implied, while he watched the next lane, where the carter was grumbling as he uncovered his load, clearly personal belongings wedged around furniture. His wife and children waited to one side, and Taren frowned as he saw one of the children gnawing a thin crust. The bakery in the square had been open as early as late, and he had an array of rolls and pastries in a basket tied to his saddlehorn, so he caught the mother's eye.

"Perhaps your children would like some extra breakfast while you wait, ma'am?"

A proffer of turnovers, still warm, drew the children, a boy and girl both looking gaunter than Taren cared to see. As they wolfed the food he was wondering what else he might do when the corporal came over, frowning.

"That's good of you, my lord. But tell me, Mistress Carter, why you're so short of coin you can't feed your bairns as they need?"

The woman was reluctant, but a stern look had her spilling a tale of a week's delay on the road when one of their horses went lame, and the money they'd saved running out. Joining his wife, the carter wanted to know what business it was of anyone's, and the corporal gave him an even sterner glare.

"Children don't starve at New Hope, Master Carter, and that includes yours. Lady Kel won't have it. Where are you bound?"

The answer seemed to be anywhere along the Vassa Road that needed a cart, with no real notion of a roof their furniture might be under in the meanwhile, and the corporal shook his head.

"Well, I hope for our sakes you're a better carter than you are a planner. Either way, where you need to go is the Citadel, and they'll sort you out. Do you have your letters?"

The carter didn't, but his wife did, and the corporal vanished into one of the guard-huts, returning with a folded sheet of paper.

"You keep that safe, mistress, and show it to the wayhouse-keepers where you stop for lunch and for the night. They'll let you have the food you need without payment, and mark down what you owe. There'll be no padding or cheating, just cost and two copper bits for the four of you, like you was told. Once you're at New Hope and sorted, your debt can be sorted too, so all's fair and no-one goes hungry. And I'll be sending word ahead of you, so you make sure your bairns get fed right, or you'll be in the stink good and proper before you've even arrived. Feed yourselves, too — you're no use to anyone if you get sick."

Taren had some sympathy for the way the carter, aggression gone, scratched his head in bafflement at the practical kindness, and added some biscuits to the children's bounty. When the carter stared at him, he shrugged.

"I don't like seeing hungry children, Master Carter. Nor should you."

Seeing his own party had been cleared and were ready to go, he wished the family safe travel, and turned away, the corporal falling in beside him and speaking softly.

"Especially when they're his own, eh, my lord?"

"Surely. But the children are thin, not bruised, so I think he's just feckless."

"Sounds right to me, my lord. But I'll pass word and an eye'll be kept."

"Would you like me to save you a messenger?"

"No need, my lord, though it's a friendly thought. We've spellmirrors to the Citadel and most wayhouses."

Riding on, with a tangible thrill at finally entering New Hope, Taren tallied the surprises just received. Some checking of loads and travellers was common enough, he knew, especially in richer fiefs, and what _left_ Stone Mountain's mines, quarries, and forges was carefully counted, but he'd never heard of anything so thorough for arrivals at a fief's border, and certainly none that gave a prior briefing. Nor could he imagine any other fief where children's hunger would be so swiftly acted on. The physical barriers across the Road and sight of the liveries also served as an emphatic statement that you were entering a new domain, with different rules, reinforcing the effects of the briefing. And though he had known that the Citadel was the home of the Guild, where Master Numair was leading magical experiments, with other mages visiting, he hadn't translated that into a ready availability of magical devices for official use. There had been several spelled bracelets in use, and if New Hope must have had army spellmirrors during the war, the seemingly casual extension of a spellmirror network to most wayhouses — an unknown number but surely well in double figures, if the whole fief were covered — represented a staggering display of wealth.

Or rather, he realised, _magical_ wealth, for they could make their own as needed, and while it might be accounted in some way, coin wouldn't be needed. And magical _power_ , for if the whole fief had what amounted to instant communication, all sorts of things would be done differently, and official responses might be breathtakingly swift. The soldiers, too, had been impressive, efficient, civil, mindful of but undaunted by rank, observant, and confident that neither the one who'd found his balm nor the corporal had even thought about seeking higher authorisation was also telling, for Horgan had long since taught him about delegating and not interfering once you had, but there had equally been no hint of swagger. Wearing livery, they must be a fief guard, not army, but Taren had no doubt every one he'd spoken to was an army veteran. Whatever else New Hope might be, it was tightly run, and a new understanding grew, gathering up a set of niggling impressions left over from Corus.

That the north of Tortall was poor and wild, the centre and south far richer and (saving the great desert) more populous, everybody knew that the Peace Treaty included helping to feed Scanrans, so they stayed at home, was widely understood and, in Corus at least, so was the fact that the Craftsbeings' Guild, renewed flow of silver from Tirrsmont, and generally reviving northern trade were sending a stream of southern money north. But unless they were themselves northerners, most people he'd met, of all ranks, thought of it as some brief compensation for the strains of war, or at best a balance that _would_ shift a little, over time Nond certainly thought that way, and Disart, and half the Council of Nobles. But Commander Svein, Count Imrah, Lord Wyldon, Elimiaju, and a few more had known better, and now so did he : even this first, least touch of New Hope shouted that the balance had already tipped, the new weight in the scale being irresistible. And it wasn't just that, either, for New Hope was not merely a new and large fief, but a northern rival to Corus already possessed of the credentials, as a centre of military, magical, and other power, and the residence of not simply another noble but a person of unique status. Given its Scanran half, it was in truth all but a new nation buffering Tortall and Scanra — and _that_ was why the King was so punctilious about his official _Countess-Protector_ s, and why the Crown Prince and Princess were each standing as a godsparent to one of her twins, information the Lioness had so casually dropped, with a mention of a new fourth company of the King's Own to be stationed north so she understood as well, and had anticipated that he would work it out.

Almost dizzy from the whirl of thought, Taren abruptly realised just how profoundly His Majesty trusted Lady Keladry. A _military_ trust had been implicit in his presence during the siege, but the scale of his landgrant, with the inclusion of the Tirrsmont mines, and the grant of monopoly on immortal work, were not the overgenerous reward they seemed to some but a political decision that acknowledged a longstanding neglect of the north it was surely as much a surrender of power as an enhancement of border security. And _then_ there was what had happened in Yaman, and the thought occurred that _she_ had been able to pursue her Guild's justice while two rulers were content to look on, not just because she was god-touched and had immortal allies, but because she too was a ruler, whose assertion of power they had recognised. The Lioness's words about the King being grumpy at _being outmatched, again_ came back to him, in mild qualification, but his thoughts were interrupted by an extraordinary rumbling noise from just over the crest of the slight rise they were climbing that made his horse skitter. He tensed, looking around as he controlled the animal, but as echoes faded Mrs Spinner's clear voice rang out.

"That's a basilisk's rock-spell, my lord, everyone. There's no threat."

Feeling foolish, he took a breath, forcing himself to speak calmly. "Thank you, ma'am. The sergeant did say, but I confess it took me quite by surprise."

He hadn't been alone in that, but the horses were all under control, Var looking more intrigued than frightened, and as they topped the rise he saw a group of immortals — several basilisks and at least six ogres — perhaps a quarter-mile ahead. They had something the ogres seemed to be lifting and dropping again, but what it was he couldn't guess. There were also a couple of very sturdy-looking wagons. Two hundred yards closer a small picket of soldiers in army maroon spanned the Road, one of whom jogged towards them, glancing over his shoulder every few steps, and from fifty yards out bellowed a warning.

"Next rumble coming, riders! Just about … now!"

Taren tightened the reins in time, glad of the warning for, past the crest, the sound was louder, shrieks audible within it. Several horses pranced, protesting, but none reared, and as the sound faded the soldier jogged up.

"Sorry for any problems, my lords and lady, riders. Roadworks. It'll be a bit before there's another rumble, though, so you're free to go around. Ground's firm."

Var gave him an imploring glance, and Taren needed no persuading.

"Ah, thank you, corporal. But may we watch what they're doing for a moment?"

"If you wishes, my lord, and so long as you heeds anything they say. Horses'll need proper picketing, mind, until they get used to the noise."

Taren wasn't entirely sure anyone could get used to such a sound, but the royal groom coughed, and he looked over enquiringly.

"Some of the pool 'orses 'ave been trained to it, my lord. It don't take long when nothing 'appens to 'em, and it's best done sooner than not."

Vesker nodded approval, and left his men with the grooms to help hold horses if it was needed, but came with Taren, Sam, and Var. Having established their identities the corporal came too, to make introductions, and Mrs Spinner tagged along, saying she'd heard of the stone roads Lady Kel was pioneering and was curious to see how it was done. Closer to, Taren saw that the wagons held coarse gravel, and the tool was a great wooden construction like a shallow roof, two flat sides spanning the whole road and meeting at a slight central peak, with three stout poles to serve as handles sticking up on each side. The immortals seemed to be taking a break while peering at the Road in front of them, and pressing it with their feet behind them, a flat rock surface stretched into the distance, sparkling in the morning light. A basilisk looked up from its examination, and came forward to meet them.

"Corporal Tanner?"

The voice was a fluting whisper that was somehow as sharply audible as any shout.

"The first curious travellers of the day, Spiir'aan. Lord Taren of Stone Mountain, with Lord Saman and Lady Varia. Their guard is Vesker. And Mrs Spinner, if you haven't met. She was here before, for Lady Kel's wedding."

Whether it was a stare Taren didn't know, but a basilisk's look was intent.

"We were not introduced, but I am glad to be so now, Mrs Spinner. And to meet you, lords and lady of Stone Mountain, and guard Vesker. Your visit pleases the Protector, and so pleases us."

Taren swallowed. "Thank you, ah, is Journeybasilisk Spiir'aan correct?"

He thought the basilisk was amused, but its whisper was unchanged.

"It is, Lord Taren, and I appreciate the courtesy, though I do not use rank unless I must. And you are welcome. We are about to start again, and I believe the process needs no explanation, but I will be happy to answer any questions afterwards. You must, though, stand well back. We channel the rock-spell tightly, always, but without mages to provide a shield, mortals are wise to be careful."

That was unarguable, and even from a safe distance the process was indeed plain, allowing for the wonders of basilisks' magic and ogres' strength. Once a section of roadway had been inspected, and any larger ruts or potholes filled and flattened, ogres tipped gravel and shovelled it into a layer that was roughly even. As the basilisks lined up on either side the corporal waved a warning to the picket, and the sound of the spell thrashed the air, basso rumbles vibrating in Taren's stomach as the thin shrieking within it brought his hands up to cover his ears. But his eyes were fixed on the gravel, which glowed and began to _ooze_ , individual pieces melting into rock-treacle. As the sound died away basilisks stepped swiftly back, and ogres lifted the wooden roof-thing, brought it forward, and after a second's careful positioning leaned on it, hard then lifted and shifted it forward to repeat the process thrice more, until all the gravel had been treated. The corporal waved again, and a further spell, just as loud but sounding different in a way Taren couldn't describe, made no visible difference but must re-set the rock, no longer gravel but a smooth stone surface.

Or not quite smooth, for as they went closer at Spiir'aan's waved invitation Taren saw that at each edge there was a gutter, a shallow U-shape several inches wide. Beside him Var clapped her hands with excitement, and squatted for a moment, lowering her head almost to the ground to look sideways across the stone, before bouncing up again.

"That's so _clever_. There's a slight profile, so rainwater will run off into the gutters." She turned, peering down the slope to where the road bridged a small stream, eyed the rise beyond, and turned back to Spiir'aan, who was looking at her with what seemed to be interest. The other immortals were listening too. "Does the gutter empty into the beck, Journeybasilisk Spiir'aan, sir?"

"It does, Lady Varia."

"Don't you get problems where the flows from each slope meet? With a cloudburst they must churn enough to worry even stone."

"Sometimes, yes. That bridge is wide enough for each flow to be turned into the beck before they meet, but where there is a greater catchment, or slopes are steeper, we make larger spouts and use stronger stone."

"What sort?"

"Granite or obsidian."

Var blinked, frowned for a second, and gave the basilisk a blinding smile. "By petrifying? Carved in wood first?"

"Just so, Lady Varia. Carving stone would take too long, and is unnecessary." Spiir'aan cocked his head a little. "You are swift to understand."

Var blushed a little. "Journeyogre Elimiaju told me the Guild had been thinking about how to build better roads, Journeybasilisk Spiir'aan, but he didn't know what they'd come up with, so I've been wondering. And the merchant who sold us some beautiful petrified ware told us basilisks could vary what stone they turned something into, and control colour. But I didn't know you could melt and set stone as well as make it, and being able to shape proper gutters like that never crossed my mind."

"It had not crossed ours, Lady Varia, until the Protector asked us and made it seem only common sense."

One of the ogres gave a grunting laugh, grinning when the basilisk glanced at it and coming to join them. Taren expected a voice like Elimiaju's, but it was much higher-pitched, almost a falsetto.

"Rainwater has to go somewhere and no-one likes puddles, so let's have a bit of a slope and some nice gutters, please. Melt the gravel a bit, and a form with a petrified underside should do it." The pitch dropped to a bass register. "Kuriaju's expression was a wonder."

Spiir'aan again seemed amused. "You are getting better at the word choice, Ruriaju, but you are no true mimic."

"Nor wish to be, Spiir'aan. But I'm right about Kuriaju's expression. As he says, mortals, I am Ruriaju."

The siblings received a deep ogre nod, and Taren returned a short bow before making introductions, including Vesker and Mrs Spinner. Var had been waiting impatiently.

"Journeyogre Ruriaju, sir, you're saying Lady Keladry designed all this _herself_?"

"No, Kuriaju designed the form, Lady Varia, with the master carpenter who made it, but the whole was the Protector's idea." The ogre grinned widely. "And delivered much as I said. She is very good at surprising us with the obvious. And she is rather taken with the idea of better roads everywhere."

"Are you going to do the whole of the Great North Road?"

"In time, Lord Saman." Spiir'aan gave what Taren thought amounted to a shrug. "Beyond Bearsford it is a crown responsibility, but a first contract has been signed. There will be a delay, though, as the Protector and His Majesty have agreed that the new Pilgrims' Way from Mindelan has priority."

Taren visualised maps he'd pored over. "A new road to New Hope?"

"Indeed."

"Across the angle, instead of having to go via Frasrlund?"

"Just so, Lord Taren. It is long since we could study mortal pilgrimage, but after all that happened in Yaman the Protector believes many will come, with young and old both thick among them. The new road will shorten their journey by many miles, and can be completed in little more time than it would take to improve the existing ones."

"We'd be building all the wayhouses and tea-rooms from the ground up anyway."

Ruriaju's face was deadpan, but his eyes weren't, and Taren managed to keep his voice level, grateful both for getting to know Elimiaju a little and for the limited reading he'd done about Yaman and its ways.

"So I'd imagined, Journeyogre Ruriaju. Are the tea-rooms to be in the traditional design?"

"Haven't seen one yet." The ogre smiled. "But I expect so, whatever it is."

It was Taren's turn to be deadpan. "Open sides, special matting on the floor, and three rooves."

Ruriaju blinked, and Spiir'aan gave a hiss of laughter.

"Your expression reminds me of Kuriaju's."

The ogre laughed. "Not nearly, but I'm hoist well enough. _Three_ rooves, Lord Taren?"

"Truly. I saw a picture. Or one that's deeply fretted, I suppose. But we should be getting on."

"The Protector awaits you, certainly."

That comment stayed with Taren as they offered thanks, made polite farewells, and remounted, deepening a feeling of hollowness as a meeting long desired and feared became ever more imminent. At the bridge he slowed with Var, Sam, and Vesker to look briefly at the spouts that drained the gutters, and climbing the farther slope welcomed Vesker's cautious enquiries about immortals having senses of humour and Yamanis some very odd ideas. With Commander Svein's advice about Immortals' Intoxication and being practical, Var and Sam were drawn in, with Mrs Spinner and others, and the conversation was interesting, reflecting a doubleness Taren felt. Ruriaju's jests had been more obvious than Elimiaju's sly humour, but if he had grown almost used to ogres, and had liked Spiir'aan with relief that basilisks could also be amused and amusing, he was nevertheless conscious, as all were, of a growing disorientation, and a rising sense of wonder that felt almost dreamlike. Memory of the way the gravel had melted and flowed fuelled it, twining with thoughts of what an ogre might have heard it saying, and underscored by the ring of the horses' hooves on the stone they rode so swiftly and smoothly — itself a vision of power, stretching away into the distance before them even the neatly screened latrine pits they passed at regular intervals plucked at it, for however they were plainly practical they were also both innovation and a warning not to foul the verges and woods. _All_ things seemed to speak here, whispering of the power towards which they travelled, that already encompassed them.

A simple but very tasty lunch at a wayhouse of austere but startling design, the half-way point between Bearsford and Greenwood Forks, did not help either his hollowness or the wonder. The external walls were plain, but of ashlar more finely dressed and tightly laid than he'd ever seen, and sported glassed windows, while the roof covering the wayhouse with its flanking latrine and stable in a single low-pitched span was, they were cheerfully told, petrified canvas it certainly had areas of greater translucency serving as skylights, and no joins were visible in the taut sweep of what was now stone. The keepers, a husband and wife born in Arenaver who'd come north at the invitation of a soldier-friend serving at New Hope, apparently within weeks of the Peace Treaty being signed, had seen it built and were happy to tell a tale of ogres hauling canvas taut while basilisks petrified it from inside, and of the whole exterior structure going up in a single day. That the interior woodwork, partitioning sleeping spaces, the keepers' apartment, and kitchen from a communal messhall and hearth, had taken another two was not much of a qualification, nor the laughing observation that Lady Kel liked getting things done, and for all they thought long, immortals weren't much given to dawdling either.

The paradox, or irony, of such age and haste offered more food for thought as they rode on. New Hope was palpably _new_ , road and buildings yet unweathered, and everyone's consciousness of sweeping difference intense, but it also seemed timeless, and so as old as it was fresh. The wooded hills to either side were gathering height, and the Road wound between them, crossing streams and dry gullies on elegant bridges with solid parapets for safety that the road-crew had clearly repaired and improved as they passed. Cuttings were rarer, but clean, sheer rock indicated recent widening, and an excited Var wondered if it had been for carters' convenience or as a handy source of gravel or both, as Sam promptly suggested. Taren passed the next few miles entertaining a vision of a poached and muddy road passing through too narrow a cutting, and Lady Keladry waving immortal magic at it to make stone flow from cliffs to roadway, and solve both problems. Two birds with one stone, you could say. He wasn't sure whether it made him want to laugh or cry at the efficient absurdity, but found an unexpected rightness and satisfaction in the phrase : _efficient absurdity_ seemed to cover a lot at New Hope, as Var immediately and Sam more uncertainly agreed.

Soon after leaving the wayhouse they began to encounter traffic heading south. Well-teamed ox-carts carried loads of the same fine ashlar, most light but some much darker, and mule-trains packed sealed wooden crates or fat panniers. An army mailman and occasional riders in blue-grey livery were among them, all offering polite greetings by name while staring with some curiosity. Yet another thing that had not quite occurred to Taren was that he — they — would be objects of general curiosity, as they had been to nobles and merchants in Corus, but Spiir'aan had said their visit pleased the Protector, so it must have been discussed and of course Joren's miserable tale and sorry end must be as deeply known at New Hope as they could be anywhere. He had thought his hollow feeling only to do with meeting _her_ , whom Joren had so wrongly persecuted and foully sought to kill, by whom his father had somehow been broken, but it expanded easily to entering a fief and Citadel where by all accounts she was all but worshipped by liegers who had every reason to despise the name of Stone Mountain. Yet the rightness he'd felt about _efficient absurdity_ returned with memories of Svein telling him his letter had moved her, and Sir Alanna's assurance that _she_ understood the latter bringing with it that other remark about being allergic to gratitude. The pressures of Stone Mountain for six months had left him grateful to pass many to Svein for a while what must it be to endure the pressures New Hope generated, without relief? He had known the weight of the gods' silence but never the weight of their speech, and had no doubt whatever which was the greater, by far.

His thoughts were jolted back to the present as what had seemed only another rise turned out to be the southern rim of the Greenwoods Valley, and a panorama unfolded before him, lit by the westering sun. Greenwoods Fork might have started as such, when the Greenwoods trail became the Great North Road, angling north-east down the valley towards the towering wall of the fin _she_ had stood on, but it had become a crossroads, what must be the new Pilgrims' Way heading south-west before bending south over a saddle and disappearing. Around the waymeet buildings clustered, smoke rising from a forge and the chimneys of an inn a large stable had an unfenced pasture with a fair herd of horses grazing, and the fourth building had an official look, a flag fluttering over it. Taren swallowed as he realised that several centaurs watched over the horses, but his eye was drawn back down valley, following the stripes of terracing along the far hillsides and down to a hive of activity on the valley floor towards the great fin, where a tracery of something was rising into the sky. Many people — beings — seemed to be watching, but it was too far to make out detail, and as they descended the greater visibility of Greenwood Forks reclaimed his attention. Saving the inn, which was tiled, all its buildings had the same petrified canvas rooves and air of newness traffic was coming up the valley as well as down the former tip of the Great North Road, and though some kept going some paused, so activity was brisk. Hammers rang, horses and mules were being re-shod or unsaddled, and people ate and drank at tables in the gardens of the inn there were also — Taren swallowed again as sunlight flashed on steel — what must be stormwings perched beside them, apparently in conversation. Then they too were lost to view, and he was looking only at a busy crossroads, the gleam of new stone the only indication of anything strange.

Vesker dropped back to range alongside him. "From what that sergeant said, my lord, I'm thinking we should check for a message? Under that flag, most like."

Taren agreed, and after dismounting himself, seeing Sam had an eye to Var, he offered Mrs Spinner a steadying hand as she landed and stretched her back with a faint groan.

"Unless there's a message we'll be going straight on, I'm afraid. Do you need to rest a little, ma'am?"

"No, no, my lord." She smiled crookedly. "Older bones seem to feel it more, and days in the saddle add up, but it's invigorating to be here at last. And it's not so far now, as I recall."

Her eyes went to something over his shoulder, and Taren felt a pressure on his back, feeling his body stiffen as he turned to see a group of beings following Vesker towards him. Mailed ogres carrying oversize sledgehammers flanked the group on one side, Scanrans with braided hair and beards who would otherwise look tall bore gleaming spiked double axes on the other. Sparrows fluttered in the air above them, circling. Vesker had a frozen expression, and the woman who was centremost, her tunic embroidered with an owl and crossed glaives within a triple circle, possessed a fluid grace of movement that made the sword at her hip and glaive in her hand extensions of her body. She radiated power as a fire did heat, and both Var and Sam were rigid as he offered a deep bow and straightened to meet hazel eyes that seemed to look right through him, weighing what they saw. A bow was returned, and his mouth dried.

"Lord Taren, be welcome to New Hope." The voice was lower than he'd imagined and infinitely warmer, the face attractive, if guarded, and the hazel eyes … twinkled would be wrong, but thoughts of stars and silver turned in his mind. "You've made good time from Bearsford."

The Scanrans' axes were glittering in the sun, and a sparrow's shadow flicked across him.

"Countess Keladry, Clanchief Hléoburh, how could we not on such excellent roads?" His voice sounded very distant. "And thank you for all your care of us. From the Lioness's visit to the briefing last night at Bearsford, all has been made smooth. I hope nothing untoward has brought you here to meet us sooner than we had expected."

He didn't think he'd said anything amiss, but she grinned as she shook her head.

"Not at all, my lord. I'm just bunking off, really. Everyone's watching Geraint and his team building the new greenhouse, but one dome's much the same as another, frankly, and Alder needed a ride so I ignored Mandrinal's pained cries about overdue paperwork." She gestured. "All these new bodyguards of mine need the exercise too. The innkeep's bringing some fruit twilsey that'll clear your throats, and some _umeboshi_ , Yamani pickled plums I have a weakness for, but then let's press on, if Mrs Spinner's back will forgive me."

The seamstress greeted Lady Kel with a smile, agreeing, and Taren hastened to indicate his own acceptance before introducing a nervy Sam and Var, both gravely welcomed. He let Vesker introduce the guards, who received brisk instructions about anyone armed being held to a stricter standard of behaviour, and going unarmed when off-duty, with an invitation to join any weapons training sessions that interested them grooms were also greeted, with words about the availability of animal healers and a warning about an area in the valley where yew was grown. Ogres and Scanrans were also named, but clearly considered themselves on duty and merely offered brief nods. The twilsey arrived, welcome to his dry throat, and he cautiously tried a pickled plum Countess Keladry offered, discovering why she liked them, and watching with fascination as she let sparrows take some seed from her hand, one perching on her shoulder with a soft peep. Then he was back in the saddle, glancing at the wide-eyed expressions on Sam's and Var's faces as they fell in behind _her_ , Scanrans and jogging ogres flanking them all, and wondering what he must look like himself.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 5: Chapter Four - New Hope Chapter Text

 **Four : New Hope**

 _New Hope, 26 April–1 May 464 HE_

DESPITE keeping to a brisk trot the Countess offered commentary on what they could see as they headed down valley, and they drank it in. The road was wide enough to ride four abreast, save when they had to pass larger wagons and she paced ahead before dropping back again. The scale of terracing on the northern hillsides was impressive, adding tens of acres of arable land, and there were scores of doorways and windows in the southern cliffs a steady stream of pedestrians used a path along their base, and Taren revised his estimate of the valley's population up sharply. The rich bottomland was fully ploughed and planted, while ogres tended terraces, weeding and repairing retaining walls to watch them fitting dry stone was, apparently, a marvel, and recalling the wayhouse Taren imagined it was. Some three miles down valley the northern hills and woods edged closer to the Road where a wide trail came in there were some canvas-roofed ashlar cottages, older children woodgathering along the trail eaves, or minding younger ones at play, and a fair-sized farrier's smithy where a gelding was having a shoe clinched and other horses waited. Surprised by its proximity to the smithy at Greenwoods Fork Taren ventured a question, and the Countess gave a wry smile.

"You'd be right, my lord, except that I fine people who don't look after their animals properly sufficiently severely that doing so is cheaper, and hooves as well as cargo are inspected when you pass the Citadel, so there's a certain late demand hereabouts. And that trail goes to Fort Mastiff, so a farrier's handy for the army couriers."

"Ah. You own the smithies, my lady?"

"I do. The smiths and farriers pay a nominal rent and tithe from profits." She gestured. "It's the same with taverns and shops along the cliff. I started _The Pilgrims' Progress_ that way mostly because folk needed somewhere to go of an evening, and a second because I had another wounded veteran who needed a job, but Connac's made such a success of _The Bivouac_ that I've stuck to the model. And it gives me some control over what they're all called, thank the gods."

Var leaned forward. "What do you veto, my lady?"

"Anything with _Lady Kel's_ or _Captain Dom's_ in it for starters, Lady Varia. And anything too rude, though I confess to some regret over _The Stormwing and Nappy_. Queen Barzha was quite amused, and Amourta thought it was hysterical, but I don't allow immortals to be used like that unless they're paid for it."

"Like the Guild rules."

"Exactly. The innkeep did offer to tithe to the Stone Tree Nation, but I decided I didn't want stormwings having an incentive to get people drunk, either."

He saw Var blink before she pushed the thought aside.

"So what have you allowed, my lady?"

"Well, just now _The Fewer Vocatives_ comes to mind for the next, but the ones already open are _The Meeting Place_ , in the middle, which is sensible enough, and _The King's Head_ back towards Greenwoods Fork. I don't much care for that one, but the Scanrans thought it just as well as funny so I let it go." She shook her head. "Ogres like beer too, and there's a common room in Immortals' House that's halfway to a tavern. Kuriaju's been teasing me about names they're considering. _The Mortal Surprise_ seems to be favourite, closely followed by _Junior's Jokehouse_."

Connections clicked in Taren's head, with that hint about informality of address. "Junior is the griffin kit?"

"He certainly is. You know about him?"

"His reputation precedes him. The briefing at Bearsford mentioned him, and Duke Turomot said he was, um, an impudent menace."

"That covers it. He's on his best behaviour, just, having annoyed everyone while I was away, but it won't last. If he wasn't distracted by Geraint's experiment he'd probably have come to see us already."

They were approaching the soaring and improbable framework of the building under construction, surrounded by a cheerful crowd, and had to slow to let people stand aside. The Countess gave an order, not shouting but in a voice that easily cut through the noise, and they pulled up.

"I'll show you properly tomorrow, but Geraint thinks the design he and the ogres worked out for Lord Sakuyo's temple can be used for a glass greenhouse big enough to grow fruit trees."

Var squeaked her shock. "Glass? But won't wind or snow collapse it?"

"Yes, if it were a rectangle with a roof, but not as a dome, Geraint says. He did lots of sums I couldn't follow, and both Kuriaju and Numair agreed." She shrugged. "Anything new's a risk, but having our own oranges and lemons is worth one."

Var's face scrunched up as she thought. "Heat?"

"Basilisks heat stone blocks, and Numair's done some spellwork on the glass." A sparrow landed on the Countess's shoulder, and she reached up to stroke it. "We'll see. Kawit, the opal dragon who keeps immortal apprentices in line, has interesting stories about a pre-Thanic way of using hot air from fires elsewhere, but I'd rather avoid smoke."

"Oh."

Var's dazed sound rather summed up his own feelings, Taren thought, as they resumed a slower progress. Absurd efficiency was the least of it, but there was no time to brood as the fin reared before them, and the crenellated wall of the corral became visible, ringed by a moat. More construction was underway along the base of the fin, behind an outlet sough for the moat long buildings were interspersed with shorter ones, and though most were only framed one already had a Yamani triple-roof tiled in alternating shades of red and green.

"Those will be facilities for pilgrims — dormitories, mostly, with a messhall, healer-house, and tea-room, so there are some familiar sights to help keep everyone calm. And with some Yamanis here to help already, we did the tea-room first. I brought the tiles back with me."

Taren tried to calculate the capacity of the dormitories, and mentally whistled. "You expect many Yamanis to come, then, my lady? Because of, ah, recent events?"

Too late he remembered about informality, and that the Lioness had said not to ask _her_ , but she didn't seem to mind.

"Some were coming anyway, to see the pictures and Drachifethe, but yes." Those hazel eyes examined him. "You sounded very tactful, my lord. I dread to think what tales you've heard about those recent events. Or has the King's oath kept them half-way sensible?" Taren couldn't stop a huff of laughter, and she smiled. "I know, but believe me, there's exaggerated and there's plain silly."

"I'm not sure how one could exaggerate the sworn truth of the King's account, my lady, but Elimiaju added some interesting details."

"Oh?"

"The _Stone Fools_?"

"Huh. Tobe will be pleased." She smiled again, and Taren saw pride in it. "He invented a Yamani word by translating the Tortallan phrase, _Sekkinukesaku_ , and the Emperor adopted it. You can't say it doesn't fit."

"No, indeed. But we were, ah, struck by the, well, deadpan humour."

"Oh yes. Tobe was an old man very young, and it shows in things like that." Sorrow laced her voice. "All the children here during the war saw and heard far too much. Many still have nightmares, though Lord Gainel eases them, bless him, and the stormwings. If one wants to talk, fine, but don't ask them questions needlessly, please."

Veteran children _had_ occurred to Taren, from talking of Lord Tobeis, if not personal care from the Dream King and stormwings, however that worked, and he nodded.

"I hear you, my lady. And though this isn't the place, we siblings have ghosts of our own."

Her glance was keen. "So I gather, and I knew you must have. And yes, later. But know, all of you, that you owe _me_ no debts. None."

Taren found his thoughts clear. "There are many kinds of debt, my lady, and besides what all Tortallans must feel for your victory here, and what you made of it, we of Stone Mountain have a personal debt it matters to us to acknowledge." He swallowed. "Acknowledging it bears on some matters Elimiaju urged me to consider about stone and fire."

"It does?" She considered him as she eased closer to pass a wide cart carrying great hexagons of metal-rimmed glass, carefully padded. "Well, that sounds more interesting. He was talking to Olimiariaju in Old Ogric for a while the other day, and I wondered what that was about. But we need to be in double column from here."

Elimiaju having a spellmirror himself was another thing Taren hadn't deduced but, as they reformed, belatedly thought he should have. The Road passed the jagged end of the fin, the Greenwoods burbling through rapids and a great splinter of rock that must have fallen from the cliff sticking up from the futher bank, but as he tried to take in his first sight of the grey glacis and citadel rising above him, walltops catching a strange light blazing from the far side of the fin, they turned over a stone bridge, and the road beyond, if solidly paved, showed why the double column was necessary. Pedestrians and riders were coming the other way, and as before all gave them appraising looks while raising hands in greetings the Countess returned with an easy wave. At the foot of the glacis a wooden bridge spanned a moat, memorably railed along its near side with regular signs declaring in Tortallan, Common, Scanran, and (he assumed) Yamani _kanji_ that **Swimming Here Kills** , but Taren needed to concentrate to turn sharply and carefully ascend the roadway. Rising on its straight, he couldn't help thinking about the thousands who had died trying to enter, and wondered if the Countess yet could, or if every arrival and departure remained burdened with memory, but her back showed nothing. What Master Orchan had to say of turning, narrowing, and rising abruptly acquired new clarity, and the Honesty Gate loomed in front of them, armed and armoured guards saluting as sparrows swirled.

Taren didn't wait to be asked, and once under the lintel stated his name and good will towards all beings at New Hope. Sam and Var echoed him, followed by Mrs Spinner, and while Vesker and the other guards and grooms took their turns he looked around. The gatehouse was as massive a structure as he'd seen outside Corus, the arched passage through it a good thirty feet long, with arrow-loops punctuating petrified walls, murder-holes above and the outline of a pit-trap visible in the roadway his gaze rose again to find hazel eyes watching him with a look that included irony.

"Redundant now, I devoutly hope, but crucial then. Most successful besiegers come through the gate, not over the walls. And we were just realising what basilisks mean for architecture."

Var's head was swivelling. "Did you petrify the supports before adding the second stage, my lady, or build in wood and petrify it all at once?"

" _I_ didn't petrify anything, Lady Varia, basilisks did. But yes, having stone foundations and first stage meant the second could use much heavier timbers. And though elsewhere the petrification is often only a skin, to stop fire-arrows, this is solid stone. I understood from Elimiaju you were interested in mining, but it's all architecture, I take it?"

"More or less, my lady. I like to know how things are done." Var looked down. "And I'm sorry about my wording. I didn't mean to imply—"

"Not a problem." The Countess waved a hand. "I'm just a little wary of people saying _I_ did things, when they mean that many beings laboured to do it, or forget that a god was involved."

Taren had heard merchants and nobles in Corus say that Lady Keladry had struck down Torhelm, omitting three gods from their reckoning, and filed away her reaction to Var's slip with her insistence in the 'Note' on the distinction between earned leeway and license. Her reported allergy to gratitude also began to make more sense, but with the last groom through the Honesty Gate they moved on and a different bustle developed. The ogres and Scanrans seemed to be off-duty within the walls, and were dismissed with thanks until training next morning, while two sparrows perched on Lady Keladry's shoulders and the rest headed for the trees on the central green. The archway's end gave tantalising glimpses of buildings and people, but once he emerged the interest of the busy level stretched out below him, including the distant shapes of dragons, could not stop his eyes being drawn to the source of the strange light, which had a pleasant warmth.

"It's too late for a tour tonight, but before you ask the runes on the fin are _chtheorth_ and _yr_ , the fire-bow, marking the Dragons' Embassy to the Guild and Mortal Realm. They're icelights, but the extra is because Diamondflame added sunbird feathers." She raised her voice, so Vesker and others could hear. "Emergencies aside, this gate's closed to anything that can't use the wicket from last bell to dawn, and while you are free to come and go as you will, subject to orders, everyone's counted out and back, here and at the Corral Gate, so we always have an accurate count."

Taren and Vesker nodded acceptance of another efficiency, and she led them down a wide ramp to the main level, dismounting by a large stableblock. Extra grooms were at hand, with some older lads to carry saddlebags and the packhorses' loads, and a uniformed man hurried down from the gatehouse.

"Sorry not have met you at the Gate, Lady Kel. I was up at the Eyrie."

"Gawping at Geraint's greenhouse, Uinse?"

He grinned at her. "Guilty as charged, Lady Kel. _I_ 'aven't seen no round buildin's before, even if they're old 'at to you and Master Geraint, and why it don't fall down's a mystery to me."

"Think of an arch going sideways, if that helps."

"Not much. Oh well, it's pretty enough."

She introduced him as Captain of the Citadel, and yet another set of shrewd eyes assessed them. The Lower City accent went with the man's history as a redeemed convict, but he too radiated authority and took charge of Vesker and the guards, explaining they'd be in the barracks one up from Lady Kel's house, and food was in the messhall with sittings at the seventh and eighth bells, before inviting them to weapons training at dawn. Leaving them to it, with thanks for service and company on the road, the siblings and Mrs Spinner followed Lady Kel along a raised path, past a large building with clerks still visible in lit windows, a wide side-path that led to a doorway in the fin, and a whole row of barracks. Off-duty soldiers sitting outside called soft greetings to Lady Kel, looking at her guests with interest, and silent stormwings perched on rooves also eyed them. She acknowledged all but didn't offer introductions until a white shape the size of a _very_ large hound bounced up to her, snout raised, and Taren got his first proper look at a dragon. Its scales glowed in the strange light, hints of colour flickering.

"No, I haven't seen Kit, Icefall, but she's due at dinner in an hour, to meet my guests, so she can't be far. Try the Corral — Daine might be seeing to the pregnant mares. Meanwhile, these are Lord Taren of Stone Mountain, his siblings Lord Saman and Lady Varia, and Mrs Elma Spinner. And this is Dragon Apprentice Lady Icefall, better known as Scamp."

 _Hello. I am happy to meet you all. Have you travelled well? You will like it here — it is very interesting, with many things to do, and the new chillies Skysong brought back from Yaman are excellent. Where is Stone Mountain? Are not all mountains made of stone?_

Taren blinked as the rattle of words in his head stopped. "Ah, thank you, Lady Icefall, we did, I'm sure it is, and we shall. Stone Mountain is a week's ride east and a little north of Corus, and yes, so far as I know, but ours has particularly good stone for building."

 _Oh. That makes sense, I suppose. You have come a long way. I will look at a map. But I must find Skysong, because Kawit wants to talk to her. Excuse me._

It — she — bounced away down the path in front of them, and Lady Keladry grinned as they followed.

"Well handled, my lord. She _is_ a scamp, but a happy one, and works hard. Don't go near those chillies, though, if you value your tongues — what dragons call tasty is a _lot_ hotter than most mortals can deal with."

Taren imagined it was. "Thank you for the warning, my lady. Are all the dragon apprentices that, um, excitable?"

"Fortunately not, though they find the Mortal Realm stimulating. But Scamp's only two hundred and some, and missed Kit — Skysong — while we were in Yaman. Now, your guards are in this barracks, my Scanrans having taken over the next one, and you are all in the guest-wing, here."

They had come to an imposing building in the inner corner, below the gleaming icelight runes, and Tomas Weaver's description had been exact. The whole resembled a U with a wide base and the further arm folded in, encosing a sunken lawn studded with tiny flowers and crossed by a path to a door in the middle of the base. The nearer arm was the guest-wing, with its own door, where a well-dressed girl of about Var's age waited for them, curtseying as the Countess introduced them.

"Loesia sees to the guest-wing for me. She'll show you your rooms and where everything is, and I'll see you for dinner at the seventh bell, in the front-wing. It's half-formal this evening, to introduce you to some senior beings, but only half. And forgive me for abandoning you now, but I need to feed the twins before changing myself."

"Of course, my lady."

She was already striding down the path across the lawn, sparrows flitting around her, and Taren followed his siblings and Mrs Spinner into the guest-wing. There were, he learned, other guests in residence, besides Master Numair and the Godborn, with their children and Lady Skysong, who had a permanent suite — an older mage from the City of the Gods, visiting Master Numair's seminar, General Vanget, newly arrived on haMinchi clan business, and tonight only an officer returning to Mastiff from Northwatch. And besides the sparrows, they might encounter the dog Jump, and a variety of cats, all knowing animals. The layout was simple, with a central corridor on each floor, but there was a common-room for guests in the middle of the ground floor — they were shown a comfortable but presently empty room — and their own were just beyond it, generously proportioned with, astonishingly, both hot and cold water on tap. Baths had been drawn, with a maid assigned to Var and an older man for him and Sam, who already had clothes unpacked and airing, but before Miss Loesia left Taren asked her what 'half-formal' meant in terms of dress, and received a dimpled smile.

"Only changed and neat, my lord. Lady Kel don't like having to dress up unless it's holiday best for everyone. She and Captain Dom eat in the messhall, usually, still in their day tunics."

He thanked her, struck by her confidence and the easy protocol, and after agreeing with Sam and Var to meet in the common-room as soon as they were ready, gratefully retired to bathe. Although he had as yet little beard he looked a bit ragged from the days of travel, and was glad to let the man Eskry, who had been an army servant, shave him and trim his hair a little, before sending him to see to Sam and dressing himself in good breeches and one of the Stone Mountain tunics Mrs Weaver had made. He checked his appearance, and the face looking back at him seemed older than it had in Corus, as well it might he certainly felt it, though he had hardly begun to digest what he'd seen today. For a moment he contemplated the gifts he'd brought, feeling they should be given promptly but not wanting to make a display, and encountering Eskry as he stepped out, indicated the two crates and asked him if he might take their contents respectively to the Count and Countess, with their compliments and thanks for hospitality, and to the senior basilisk, ogre, and spidren. Eskry nodded, looking pleased, and said he'd see to it directly, so Taren continued to the common-room, finding Sam talking enthusiastically to a weatherbeaten man with cropped hair, whom he introduced as General Vanget.

Taren bowed. "An honour to meet you, my lord."

"Wish others thought so, my lord. And it's interesting to meet you, too. Heard you were coming this way to meet Kel."

"It seemed wise." Taren digested that _Kel_ , wondering when command had become friendship. "You're on family rather than army business, Miss Loesia said?"

"I am, yes. Army can do without me for a bit, Kel and the gods be thanked, so I've had my feet up over the winter. Then she got back from Yaman with some engineers she says can show us how to make the Vassa navigable from sea to headwaters, so my brother asked me to come and have a proper listen." He rolled his eyes, making Taren grin. "It's plainly impossible, but that's never stopped Kel before and I don't suppose it will now." Taren looked round as Var came in with Mrs Spinner and an army captain in maroon. "Ah, there you are, Brendon. And who's this?"

Introductions were made, and after Miss Loesia and a younger girl introduced as Gydo offered trays with glasses of cordial and delicious pickles to nibble, conversation developed. Var joined Sam talking to the General, while Brendon of Fenrigh admitted to being an army advocate, dealing with some stranger effects of the Countess having a peacetime army command even larger than her fief. Taren found himself intrigued.

"Had the case been here or at Steadfast or Mastiff, my lord, she could have ruled on it by fiat, but as it was Northwatch we needed a fuller army proceeding. For now, anyway. The Army Council might agree to a procedural change to keep it all simpler."

"I'm not sure I understand how the problem arises, captain."

"Army code versus noble rule, my lord. Code has precedence in an active zone in wartime, but not otherwise. Lady Kel is ranking officer for the whole northern district outside haMinchi lands, and bound to enforce code equitably, but within her own fief has certain powers of overrule. It gets complicated quickly, but this would have qualified."

"What was the case? If you can say?"

"Man on a charge for refusing a corporal's order that should never have been given. We got the right result but had to go a long way round."

"Ah. Good. And the corporal?"

"Will not be promoted any time soon, and will find himself in much hotter water if he ever does it again." They exchanged smiles. "And what brings you north, my lord?"

Taren cited his Guild business, wanting icelights making sense to everyone who'd seen them, and mining safety being a matter it turned out Brendon knew something about, as there was an army presence at the Tirrsmont mines and he'd seen what basilisks and ogres had done there. That carried them until Miss Loesia reappeared to ask them if they'd step across, seventh bell being imminent. As they went out they were joined by the visiting mage, a white-haired man with deep-set eyes, wearing an embroidered robe, who introduced himself as Master Sternross and seemed preoccupied. Miss Loesia led the way, going round to the main entrance of the front-wing rather than through the house or across the lawn. They climbed wide and beautifully curving steps, patterned in lighter and darker rock, towards an imposing set of doors that gave onto a small hall with further doors to left and right. Miss Loesia took them left, and more wonders assailed his eyes.

The room was large, easily holding the long table and the mixed group standing at the far end by a fireplace, and besides a dozen mortals there were three ogres, two basilisks with a youngling, a dragon smaller than Lady Icefall but just as animated, and two spidrens, one so big it had to be Quenuresh. But it was the three large paintings stretching down the inner wall that arrested Taren's gaze, not only for the glowing colours and exquisite detail : the nearest showed the sally that had killed King Maggur, against whose throat Lady Keladry's glaive rested, pointing to stormwings coming in behind the kneeling Scanran behind her a column of riders showed faces he recognised, the Lioness and Lords Wyldon and Imrah, before becoming less distinct — and yet within the blurring of distance and dust he could see his father, always slightly to the side of where he looked. Stunned whispers from Var and Sam told him they saw it too, and as he stared a cool voice made him start.

"Whose ghost do you see, Lord of Stone Mountain?"

The girl looking up at him was perhaps ten, with long, light brown hair barely controlled in a loose braid, but her dark green eyes were far older, and saw right through him.

"My father's, but he is no ghost, unless news has yet to reach me."

"He lives, yet is dead to the world. You see him as he wishes he had been. There is nothing to fear." The green eyes flickered, a more childish enthusiasm showing. "Come and meet people, then we can eat."

Taren swallowed, seeing Var and Sam come to the same realisation.

"You are Lady Irnai, the seer?"

"Just Irnai, Lady Varia. Come on."

Master Sternross, Taren noticed, had been listening and looked thoroughly disapproving, but the girl ignored him and a string of introductions demanded his attention. The spidrens were Quenuresh and Aldoven, who were indeed harder on the stomach, but well-spoken, and reassuring in alluding to Macarron's approval of him the ogres were Masterminer Kuriaju, intrigued by Var, his wife Meliaju, and the bard Olimiariaju Earfiller, clearly older and with rumblingly slow speech the dragon was Lady Skysong, who seemed to become more restrained with the introduction, looking at them intently and the basilisks were Var'istaan and St'aara, with St'aara's son Amiir'aan, who stood close to Skysong, sometimes touching her shoulder. Those names were no problem to remember, nor among mortals the tall, dark-skinned Master Numair Salmalín and the godborn Wildmage, Mistress Daine Weirynsra, her hair a great cloud both seemed easy-going, smiling welcomes and asking about their journey. Uinse they'd already met, while Lord Tobeis was Scanran-fair and like Irnai, though in a different way, possessed of a gaze that was not a child's and a certain restraint, despite his surprised thanks for the belt and sheath. Distracted, Taren had to concentrate to fix other names — Mistress Heliana, Lady Keladry's private clerk, Mistress Fanche and Master Saefas, Stewards of the Citadel and Greenwoods Valley, and Masterminer Petrin with his wife Ana. General Vanget seemed to know everyone, but Brendon was also being introduced, and while Master Sternross must have met the immortals before he was clearly uneasy in their presence, as in Irnai's.

Lord Tobeis was assuring all that his Ma and Da would be down very shortly, just as soon as the twins stopped fussing, when they appeared. Lady Keladry's change of clothing was only a fresh tunic, matching Count Domitan's, and Taren found himself puzzled by the older man, at once bluffly welcoming, at ease despite his noticeable limp as he thanked them kindly for the wine and linens, and underlyingly wary, as Lady Skysong was. Watching them greet others he saw the Count's wariness return in a lesser degree for Master Sternross but no-one else, though he had a slight fish-eye for Mrs Spinner, making her grin, and Taren realised it was a protectiveness of _her_ , a concern for the demands others might — would — make of her, that she would be too generous to refuse but might be headed off at the pass. What problem the mage presented he had no idea, but clearly those close to Lady Keladry thought matters of Stone Mountain might be more painful for her than her own demeanour suggested.

They were soon seated, the siblings flanking Count and Countess side-by-side at one end, while Quenuresh, Aldoven, and adult basilisks took the other — a practical issue, given their size. Amir'aan and Skysong had adapted chairs, and the ogres' had been strengthened, but with those allowances there seemed no particular order, and conversation was lively and varied. Mistress Heliana was taking the chance to get a briefing from Brendon about his case, Uinse listening in, while Master Numair and Mistress Daine dealt with Master Sternross, whose tone slid between querulous and plaintive. What was happening at the farther end of the table Taren couldn't tell, and he, Sam, and Var were kept busy by excellent soup with crusty rolls, and by the Count and Countess, talk going after some politeness to the road-building technique. Var's enthusiasm mellowed the Count's wariness, and it was clear his military experiences of muddy delays informed his pleasure at the efficiency of a properly drained roadway.

Miss Gydo and other older children were serving and clearing, and Taren saw the Countess note with a faint smile his automatic thanks each time one attended him. The main course was the most succulent boar he'd ever tasted, with equally good vegetables, served in larger and spicier portions for the ogres, and small bowls of sparkling black stone for the basilisks. A lull in conversation as boar was savoured and stone crunched was interrupted by Master Sternross, still querulous, appealing across the table to General Vanget for support.

"But surely you see how horribly dangerous this mixing of magics can be, my lord? Even Numair says he can't tell what synergies may develop."

Vanget's northern burr sounded harder, but he remained affable. "And why not wonderfully dangerous, Master Mage? I doubt the City of the Gods'll be giving up its new icelights anytime soon, any more than Ferghal or I will. You couldn't prise the sentries away from their mesh-helms with both hands, nor any sailors who've got one, I dare say. And those lifting-spell things have any number of uses, military and civilian. What are you calling them, Numair?"

"It's being discussed, Vanget, but hasn't been decided."

"Mmm. Leading contenders?"

Master Numair grinned. "It's dragons' and stormwings' hovering spell, so I suggested _hovers_ , but I'm told there are places where that means something rude." Vanget snorted, and Taren made a note to ask Vesker. "Kawit wants Magically Assisted Towers, or MATs, because she likes the pun, and Cloestra rather slyly suggested _hoick'ems_ , which, though in Common, I suspect also has some, ah, liability."

Several immortals laughed, and so did the Countess.

"Kit heard me telling His Imperial Majesty about the way Cloestra hoicked one of the _ronin_ off his feet, up at Kiyomizu-dera. I was using Common because Thayet was there. Anyway, Kit told Amourta, who told, well, everyone, as far as I can make out, and those so killed are now _hoick'ems_ in, mmm, Stone Tree Nation cant covers it, for now, though it may spread. Have you asked Scamp's opinion? If she hadn't learned the spell in sheer exuberance at not having to wait another seven or eight centuries, Quenuresh wouldn't have seen it worked as she did."

Master Numair exchanged glances with Mistress Daine and Lady Skysong, and shook his head. " _Hoick'ems_ it'll be then, Kel. Are you sure? If a mortal does understand, it's not the best association."

"Oh, I don't know, Numair. Most Yamanis would appreciate it, I think. But let's say MATs on paper, and _hoick'ems_ in Common."

"That works. So there you go, Vanget — MATs or _hoick'ems_ , as you prefer."

" _Hoick'ems_." Vanget rolled it on his tongue. "Fair enough. When will we be able to buy 'em?"

"Mabon, maybe. I made the first then, a year back, and we need to be sure we can guarantee a year's usage at least."

"Do you or Ferghal have a particular need, Vanget?"

"Not really, Kel, but Fer's got his eye on some extra pasture for the cross-border stud, and there are some fair-sized boulders he'd like to shift. Hoick'ems would save a lot of sweat and probably worse."

"I'm all for the stud, so I dare say we could manage that. Numair?"

"Samradh at least, Kel. Give me a chance to be sure."

"Samradh's good, Kel. We won't get Jorvik's stallions and mares until then, and it's extra grazing, not necessity."

"Fair enough, then. You object to something, Master Sternross?"

The older mage had a pinched expression. "If I followed all that, then yes I do, my lady. This _hoicking_ of a _ronin_ , a warrior, is a term for killing them. I find such humorous usage … unclean."

" _Mercenary_ would be a better translation than _warrior_ , and the one in question was treasonably assailing Kit, Tobe, Dom, and Their Majesties when he was hoicked, so I can't say I'm repining. You could add that Cloestra was, beyond duty, defending her Guildmaster and Senior Journeybeing against armed attack in strength. Why should proper action not be commemorated, however wryly?"

"Such levity dishonours the dead!"

Something flickered in the Countess's eyes but her voice remained pleasant. "Don't exaggerate, please, Master Sternross. It dishonours exactly one dead _ronin_ , who was buried without prayers and will _not_ have liked what the Black God's judges had to say to him. But let's go back to Vanget's excellent question. You said _horribly dangerous_ , two negatives he said _wonderfully dangerous_ , a more balanced view. Of course magical experiments have dangers. So does everything. They also produce new ideas and tools that benefit all. And the gods have raised no objections. Why do you?"

As she spoke Master Numair and Mistress Daine had sat back with an air of anticipation, and Taren watched with mixed feelings as Master Sternross glared. He wasn't without sympathy for what he thought the older mage's instinctive balking at massed innovation, but the man had picked his ground foolishly, been squarely beaten in argument, and put precisely on the spot. And he was, however senior in the City of the Gods, well out of his depth, but wasn't going to admit it.

"Because the risks being taken here are excessive and needless."

Taren wondered if the absence of any respectful vocatives would begin to grate, and the Countess's gaze hardened.

"Meaning, I imagine, that our protocols are not those of the City of the Gods. Numair?"

"In one, Kel. Master Sternross thinks the Guild's research should be transferred there, so it can be, as he says, properly supervised, meaning slowed down or stopped."

"What a surprise. Numair and Kawit aren't proper supervisors, Master Sternross?"

Master Numair suppressed a smile, and Master Sternross glared even more.

"Dragon Kawit is doubtless very learned but has no formal training at all, and Numair is lost in thought more often than not. _Anything_ could go wrong, and badly. And all sorts of beings are learning magics that could be put to terrible purpose, without any concern for controlling what they might do."

"You think a dragon who has lived for more than eighty centuries needs formal training?" Amusement flickered on the Countess's face, and died away. "You could ask Diamondflame if you may address the Dragonmeet on the subject, but I don't recommend it. And as to controlling what those who study here go on to do, I'll listen as and when you can swear that the City of the Gods will never admit and train another Blayce the Gallan. What concern did you have for controlling what _he_ did after you had taught and expelled him?"

Her voice had flattened, and the Count laid a hand on her arm. She looked at him, and after a second nodded, breathing deeply. When she spoke again her voice was conversational, but steel ran within it.

"You know, Master Sternross, you would be wise not to irritate me further tonight. You presume to slight two mages both far more powerful than you, and argue on specious grounds for a policy that would, all else aside, require approval by the Dragonmeet, which you have not consulted. And at root you do so, whatever your thinking, because the City of the Gods is unhappy the High Ones have shown favour elsewhere, to someone wholly unconnected with it. You also see New Hope not as a new resource but as a rival for old privilege, and have the gall to think annexing Numair's seminar would solve your problem. And you're interrupting dinner with business for which you should have sought a formal meeting. Stop it. I don't particularly mind the personal disrespect, though there are limits, and while Numair tolerates you at the seminar so will I, but one more attempt to interfere with Guild business and rights will see you headed home under escort to explain to Dean Charter the further damage you've done the City of the Gods."

Taren didn't like the pasty colour of Master Sternross's face, but the closing threat brought a flush to his cheeks and he mumbled an apology before falling silent. That the mage could be more concerned about the ire of a distant superior than Lady Keladry's present irritation suggested serious insensibility, but as other conversation picked up more swiftly than he'd expected — Lord Tobeis and others making sure it did — the Countess gave him a rueful look, speaking softly.

"I'm sorry about that, Lord Taren, but he's been annoying me for several weeks."

"All fault is his, Lady Keladry. Have you had other problems with the City of the Gods?"

"Not really, but they are in difficulties. The shortage of mages has seen quite a few enticed away, and I poached some teachers myself."

"Who were falling over themselves to come, love." Count Domitan also spoke softly. "Not surprisingly. Do you know the City at all, Lord Taren?"

"I've never been, my lord, but I suppose it's the same problem as with the Corus guilds."

"More or less." The Countess smiled. "Hidebound self-interest, certainly, though I think I've upset the divines more than the mages. Holloran said you had problems in that quarter yourself?"

Taren didn't want to broach the subject of his father, but worked around it, citing difficulties he'd had in getting priestly answers of any use, and if the discussion was slightly guarded on both sides it got them through to some delicious dessert. Master Sternross withdrew as soon as he'd finished, offering only curt thanks, and was followed more courteously by others, Mistress Heliana and Miss Loesia claiming work to be done, General Vanget, Brendon, and Mrs Spinner tiredness, and Mistress Fanche and Master Saefas their ride home. Lord Tobeis left with a yawning Irnai, and the Wildmage went to see to her children, while Master Numair paused by Lady Keladry's chair, voice amused

"Do you even know Dean Charter, Kel?"

"Actually I do, Numair. We spoke by fire a few days back, to my considerable surprise."

"Oh? Trouble?"

"Only for me. His senior divines want a first-hand account of Yaman, gods help me. I told him to send Avinar, so at least I'll get some benefit."

"Indeed. And thank you for quashing Sternross. I was beginning to wonder what kind of a tree he'd make."

"None we want, I'm sure. And if he's too much to bear, just send him packing. There are enough people who want to be here that we can do without anyone who doesn't."

"He's not a bad mage, just rigid in his views and frightened of change. But I'll bear it in mind. Goodnight."

Taren would have been happy to retire himself, but with the departures Var shifted seat to speak to Masters Petrin and Kuriaju, other immortals listening, and they all followed. Var repeated some of the things she'd said to Elimiaju, but the sorry state of the trade-road was in there, and questions new to Taren about whether the stone-melting technique could be used to reinforce a weak section in an adit. She was thinking of one of the mines he'd ordered closed, abandoning a vein of ore that was far from worked out because sloppy excavation years before had made for a real danger, and his pride in her grew. The masterminers were also clearly impressed, but the answer remained maybe, doing anything to weak rock being tricky and tunnelling around usually a better answer. Sam was listening to Lady Skysong, intent as she explained something, and Taren made himself talk to Quenuresh and Aldoven, who were clearing a generous cheeseboard. Stone Mountain could use old webbing as much as anywhere else, and his gift of cheese had proved welcome she would bring some in at Beltane, three mornings hence, when many immortals would come to the Citadel.

"We are not expecting any gods this year, although with the Protector anything is possible." Quenuresh cocked her head. "But the younglings like Feast Days, and here there is always news to catch up with. Have you any from Corus?"

Taren avoided the King's speech and found the spidrens interested in the changes to the Lower City, which Quenuresh seemed to know they also asked after his impressions of Macarron, but conversation shifted when a darking dropped from Quenuresh's neck to the cheeseboard to scavenge crumbs. It was introduced as Iron, and with both Sam and Var staring, further darkings, Ebony, Button, and Shale, squeaked hellos from the Countess's and Count's collars, and Var'istaan's shoulder. They were fascinating, and Taren wondered what it might mean to bear such a companion, but one more wonder was also enough to leave him abruptly weary, and when he saw Var apologetically stifle a yawn decided enough was enough. They withdrew, offering thanks, and after a glance at the Countess Amir'aan showed them a shorter route through the base of the house, clearly a private apartment, leaving them at the corridor to their rooms. Fighting tiredness, Taren stepped into Var's room for a moment, drawing Sam with him, and gave each a hug.

"Well, we're here, safe and well and pretty warmly welcome, given everything. And there are clearly more agendas than our own, so we'll have to be careful. But I want the conversation we need to have with _her_ about Joren and Father over with sooner than later, so if there's an opportunity tomorrow I shall take it. Be prepared, please."

Var reached a hand to his cheek, and he leaned into the caress.

"I'm good with it, Tar. Are you?"

"I think so, Var. As much as I can be. I just wish I hadn't wanted _him_ dead quite so badly. And … I don't know, but did you sense the Count's wariness? And Lady Skysong's and Lord Tobeis's? _He_ matters to _her_ , somehow. What we learn, if we do, may not be anything we've expected."

Sam shrugged. "I expect you're right, Tar, but I don't know what I expect. What could _he_ have done to break Father like that?"

"I think we're going to find out. _She_ won't refuse a direct question, and I will ask it." He hesitated, but the question burned. "What did you think of Irnai's remark about the image we all saw?"

"She spoke true." Var studied him, brow creasing then clearing. "Did you think you saw Father only as _you_ wish he had been?"

Taren nodded, throat tight, and Var smiled gloriously at him.

"Not so, Tar, I'd swear. Those paintings are godwork, and won't lie."

Taren wanted to believe it, and in his comfortable bed, conscious of glimmering light from the runes outlining shutters and listening to the faint calls of sentries as someone walked a night-round, he soon found a dreamless sleep.

He was woken at dawn by Eskry, who sais training had just begun. His body was yet weary from the road, but his mind was clear, and curiosity had him up and dressed in minutes. Sam and Var were already in the common-room, with Vanget and Brendon, and once Eskry had brought mugs of tea and rolls warm from the oven, eagerly devoured, they went out. Icelight runes were supplementing early light, and he could hear the clash of steel, but Vanget came to an abrupt halt in front of him.

"Gods!"

Brendon was staring too, and Taren stepped to one side so he could see himself. The training grounds and ranges south of the central green were filled with warriors of all kinds — mortals in army maroon and the Countess's livery, some drilling civilians, and Vesker with his men, but also the Scanrans and fighting ogres of her guard, and in a group of their own half-a-dozen armoured spidrens with long blades strapped to their four front legs sparring with what Taren assumed must be imperial Yamani samurai, each using two blades. And though many pairs of all kinds were working hard, others were clearly experimenting with odd combinations of weapons : swords and glaives against axes, and all three against the sledgehammers ogres wielded. The Lioness's words about cross-training echoed in his mind, but Var pulled at his sleeve, pointing towards the cliffs, where icelights outlined seven shrines cut into the rock. Before them, Lady Keladry danced with her glaive, achingly slow and precise movements filled with a grace so fluent it shone.

Below her, on the main level, children were training, Lord Tobeis among them and Count Domitan working with the youngest, boys and girls of no more than five or six but intent on their practice with cut-down spears. The sight was chastening, and Taren prodded Sam and a reluctant Var to follow him to join Vesker. After limbering up he worked with Vesker, while another guard swapped his sword for Var's preferred staff, and for a while he was aware of little but his blade and Vesker's. With his body's weariness half-a-mark was enough, and he leaned on his sword, seeing Sam talking to one of the Scanrans, while an army soldier offered Var some advice and demonstrated a sliding move.

"Is all well with you and the men, Vesker?"

"Very much so, my lord. Good barracks, good food, and good company. We was asked about why we're 'ere, and I stuck to Guild business, like you said." Vesker blew out a long breath. "It's all one eye-opener after another, in't it, my lord? I thought the ogres and Scanrans was outside of enough, but those spidrens …" He shuddered a little. "And they're _fast_. So are ogres and Scanrans. I 'ave to tell you, my lord, I reckon myself a fair fighter but I wouldn't last longer than a breath or two against any of these immortals, nor the Scanrans. All the soldiers are the real thing, too — as good as I've ever seen."

"I believe the dragons agree."

Taren pointed to the cliff-top, where a row of angular heads watched proceedings with interest, eyes gleaming.

"Huh. They vary a lot in size, don't they?"

"Age. Lady Skysong's only fifteen, but the biggest fledged ones are about seventeen or eighteen … hundred, I gather." Taren's voice was dry and Vesker gave him a sidelong look. "I know. Have any of them spoken to you yet?"

"No, my lord. What's it like? I saw you with the white one yesterday."

"Lady Icefall, or Scamp, apparently. And I spoke with Lady Skysong at dinner. It's odd, but not unpleasant — just a voice in your head, clear as a bell, that didn't get in through your ears. Oh, and it shouldn't be our concern, but the mage from the City of the Gods, Master Sternross, is in Lady Keladry's bad books, so steer clear of him, please."

"'Appily, my lord. Crossing 'er seems like it would be a very bad idea anywhere, and 'ere it's madness."

"Foolishness, certainly. She gives people a lot of freedom, and doesn't seem to care much about form, but if you cross a line … well, Master Sternross must be three times her age, and a mage besides, but she put him in his place hard."

"Fits with what I've been 'earing, my lord. Did 'er voice go flat?"

"A bit, yes. Why?"

"Captain Uinse said we should 'ope we never 'eard that, but if we did the only answer was _At once, my lady_ , and no messing."

Taren considered, remembering. "Interesting. She kept her temper in check last night, but it was there. And I'd hope that would be your response to _any_ order she gives while we're here."

"Right you are, my lord. Who's that she's introducing to the spidrens and Yamanis?"

"General Vanget haMinch, her personal guest, here on business for his brother."

They watched a spidren-and-samurai pair demonstrate something, blades catching light from the runes, before the Countess borrowed the samurai's longer sword, shifting her glaive to her left hand as if it too were a sword, and ran in slow motion through an attack that used a deflection rather than a block. Sam was still working with the Scanran, but Var was done and came to stand by him, speaking quietly.

"Did you see, Tar? When she finished her pattern-dance she knelt at each shrine before coming down. We should pray too."

Taren agreed, asking Vesker to meet him after breakfast, and Sam joined them after thanking the Scanran carefully in his own tongue, and receiving a cheerful invitation to continue sparring tomorrow. A curving path leading to the shrines took them behind spidrens and samurai, still in vigorous conversation with the Countess and Vanget, to a wide set of steps. At the top Taren paused to take in the layout : the shrines were in a shallow bay in the rockface, separated from the path that ran along it by a sough carrying water from the spring, and the central, double-width niche was not, as he had expected, Lord Mithros's, but Lord Weiryn's and the Green Lady's. Mithros and the Great Goddess flanked them, and were flanked in turn, on the left by the Black God and what must be Lord Sakuyo, and on the right by Lady Shakith and the Dream King. It was an odd mix, but all the carved statues were strikingly good, and he was keenly aware that they had seen the gods they represented. As he knelt he found other thoughts joining his usual prayers for his siblings' safety and successful care of Stone Mountain : thanks to Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady for being welcome at their great shrine, and their daughter's kindness and to Lord Sakuyo for his words in the Countess's book. Kneeling to the Black God he found himself thinking of _not_ seeing Joren in the picture, understanding that _he_ would always have been among the traitors, never among those who had sallied, with a devout hope that after today he could forgive his half-brother, and better still begin to forget him. Lord Mithros seemed as distant as ever, but asking the Great Goddess for Var's happiness he felt she approved, and offered thanks. Going on to Lady Shakith, the future seemed brighter, and the feeling deepened with thanks to Lord Gainel for the care of veteran children the Countess had reported.

While he was praying he heard the first bell, and was aware of movement, but when he rose was surprised to see the main level already more than half-cleared. A line had formed outside the messhall, a knot of men stood round the smithy, spidrens, ogres, and Scanrans were gathered on the green, deep in conversation, and the Count and Countess were waiting just beyond the sough, with General Vanget, Lord Tobeis, and Irnai. Sam and Var were finished, too, and after stepping back over the sough he offered a short bow.

"Good morning, my lady, my lords, Miss Irnai. I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting."

"Barely, Lord Taren, and gods can't be rushed. You slept well?" They all had, and she nodded. "Good. Let's get breakfast, then."

She led them across the deserted ranges to the side of the green, continuing a conversation with Vanget about a college of weapons that was apparently to be created at the Palace, and to Taren's considerable surprise simply added herself to the line at the messhall doors. It was moving quickly, so he said nothing, and she gave him a thoughtful look.

"I keep seats reserved at the high table, but unless there's need I have no stomach for marching past everyone. Master Sternross was entirely shocked."

"A good reason for not being so, my lady, though I'm afraid most at Stone Mountain would be also."

She smiled warmly, and Vanget grinned.

"I bet. The King complains that Kel has no protocol at all, but he's wrong, you know. She just doesn't care about petty formalities, nor for swagger."

"They have their places, Vanget, though swagger's is only on stage. And blame Raoul — with Third Company he mucked in as often as not."

Taren had heard stories and knew that was true, but as he listened to Lord Tobeis, saying that after Yaman a proper lack of protocol was a great relief, and noticed several sparrows coming to greet Lady Keladry, other thoughts unfolded in his mind. The Countess didn't need to insist on shows of deference because she was secure in her authority, and everyone knew it and with a flash of insight he saw that there was a connection between her insistence on informality and the great status she could rightly claim. It was not only fortunate, but vivid policy, that a noble, fearsome warrior, and high-ranking officer who was also gods-blessed, did not swagger that, having every right to do so, she went out of her way to avoid such behaviour. Another thought hit him like a thunderbolt, and he must have made a sound for she looked at him questioningly. He felt himself flush, knowing honesty was best.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but I've just realised you have those paintings where they are to remind yourself … well, not to swagger, I suppose. They're your legend, not you, somehow."

This smile was wider than any he'd seen, and her gaze intent for a moment before she murmured something in Yamani.

"I'm sorry. It's a _haiku_ that came up last time I discussed the paintings, in Yaman." The Count gave his wife a look, at which she waved a hand, and Taren wondered if _came up_ meant she had written it. "It would take too long to explain, but you're exactly right, Lord Taren. Not many people see it so clearly."

"I was distracted last night — by the ghost in the greyness?"

She nodded. "Irnai told me. We can talk about it later."

He nodded in turn. "Yes. Thank you. But the paintings were bothering me because, forgive me, they could be, not vainglory, because you did do all those things, but the purest pride. They almost ought to be, as a god's commemoration of such deeds. But they're nothing like it. I've seen enough of it to know." Under his father Stone Mountain had reeked of pride, and in any fantasy of having been wisely on the right side of events of course the great Lord Burchard would be close to the van of the sally, not anywhere humbler. "They're another of Lord Sakuyo's jokes, aren't they?"

"Oh yes. Grace and hot needles, always, with His Nibs." His eyes widened at the jesting reference, but she shrugged. "He doesn't mind, and it amuses other gods as well as soothing me. Having the paintings there still annoys me as often as not, but you can't say he doesn't hit many marks at once. They were a present I couldn't refuse, a source of prestige the fief needed, a cue for a joke that mattered, and a set-up for things in Yaman, as well as objects of pilgrimage, and probably have further purposes I haven't worked out yet, but their ridiculous size is all about the gap between perceptions and truth." Winding forwards they had reached the messhall doors, and she gave an oddly urchin grin. "Now add that the messhall is at least as god-touched as I am."

Vanget snorted, and Count Domitan rolled his eyes at Lord Tobeis, but as they passed the doors Taren understood she had spoken truly, however wry her self-deprecation. The riot of colourful and carved stone would have been amazing in itself, but it also _glowed_ , light falling in pools of colour across the diners, and with it a mild warmth. Some carving seemed only decorative — flowers, animal heads, and geometric motifs — but there were also panels carved into the walls and the faces of supporting pillars the originals of those in Corus.

"The carving is down to the refugees, but the godlight was a gift from Lord Weiryn. I imagine you saw the King's copies of the panels?"

"We did. They are very fine." And, Taren realised, confronted her with more images of her own heroism. "Was this also Lord Sakuyo's doing?"

"Not that I know, though I wouldn't put it past him. The second set might be, though it and all the copies are really down to the King, who insisted on them, dratted man."

Vanget grinned, but wagged a thick finger. "He had his reasons, Kel, and not bad ones. Your own people were keen enough."

"I know, but they don't have to look at themselves all the time."

Taren thought her crossness only half-serious and risked a further question. "Was it the King's idea to put them in Genlith's former house?"

"No, that was Thayet, bless her. He wanted to put them in the Temple District somewhere, and I told him that if he did, and I couldn't persuade Lord Mithros to use them for target practice next time I annoyed him, I'd destroy them myself."

Vanget grinned again, giving a wide-eyed Var a wink. "She did, too, much to Archdivine Holloran's scandalised relief."

They reached the servers, who greeted Lady Keladry and General Vanget cheerfully, and were introduced. Enjoying a generous helping of bacon as succulent as the boar, with fresh bread and preserves he recognised from one of the Protector's Maid's shops, Taren listened as Sam asked about cross-training, drawing in Vanget, and pondered the new understandings accumulating in his mind. What Lady Keladry might have been like when _he_ knew her was moot, but by the time his father confronted her in Council she had been to Rathhausak, had died and been returned, and must already have had something of her wry familiarity with gods. The great blessings they had bestowed were oddly easier to accept than casual references to what amused them, or didn't, and what she might or might not put past one. It was no more impious than the display of the paintings was prideful, but there was irreverence all the same, and it was not unlike her exasperation with the King. Godlight coloured the air, distractingly.

"A copper for them, Tar?"

"Just trying to take it all in, Var." He gave her a rueful smile. "I thought praying had helped, a little, but _this_ …"

He gestured, and she nodded.

"It's amazing, isn't it? And so beautiful." She frowned. "The panels are much stronger than the copies, but happier too, somehow."

"The living carved them with joy in life and New Hope as well as sorrow for Haven and the dead, Lady Varia." Irnai paused to spread honey on a roll. "Lord Weiryn was happy with his shrine, and the Green Lady with hers, as both were to see their daughter. The gods do not stint when they give at all." She ate delicately. "St'aara said we will learn about the Bazhir today, and how a desert can be beautiful. I have never seen one."

No more had Taren or Varia, but the horse-trader they'd met had spoken of the sands with longing, and the easier topic was welcome. The messhall was beginning to empty when the Countess caught his eye.

"I promised you a tour and a look at Geraint's greenhouse, but Dom and I have paperwork we really must do, and there's that conversation we should have, so I wondered if you'd mind Vanget showing you round. He wants to see the greenhouse, and if I put my head down and appease Mandrinal this morning, we could speak properly after lunch."

"Of course. I should write to my mother and aunt also, to let them know we've arrived safely."

"The clerks have paper — in the old HQ, Vanget. And there's a box there for outgoing mail."

As soon as they were outside Lord Tobeis and Irnai went off to the schoolhouse, and the Countess and Count headed for her house, trailed by sparrows. Vesker was waiting, and Taren dismissed him for the day, suggesting he and the men explore and asking him to write those letters to his sister and Balter's wife before turning to Vanget.

"We should start with the Eyrie." Vanget's eyes glinted. "Then it's all downhill after."

He led them to the Gatehouse, where they said farewell to Brendon, departing for Mastiff, climbed to its third stage, and went along a stretch of alure to a gallery cut into the fin. A sentry with a cocked crossbow saluted, and after returning it Vanget paused to let them take in the new angle of view. When they set off again, through a rising tunnel in the dark rock, Sam expressed surprise at the cocked weapon and asked if some trouble were expected.

"No, no. Kel's always been one for belt, braces, and better safe than sorry, and if the Honesty Gate does pick up someone hostile that sentry has a clean and swift shot. Uinse swaps men every hour so they don't get stale."

Taren filed that away to discuss with Vesker, and thought he might write to Captain Horgan as well, but as the tunnel became an open groove the second set of panels began, on the inner wall. The petrified wood was again shaded with colours, subtler than those of the copies, but lit only by daylight seemed starker until the effect of rising step by step came into play. There was a panel by every third one, and physical ascent became the rising triumph of the tale, from New Hope's improbable construction through all that had been endured to victory the effect was intended, for the last panel, showing Lady Keladry looking down from a high place at New Hope, was at that high place, where the groove switched back. Legs aching from the climb added to the sense of achievement, as Sam and Var agreed while they paused for breath, and Vanget laughed.

"Works well, doesn't it? The King was right about that, even if they do irritate Kel."

"Did he know they would do so, my lord?"

"He did, Lady Varia. He was still reeling from seeing her in action, and needed to assert himself as he could. Art seemed a safe bet, and it was only after those paintings turned up that Kel started wondering if putting up with these panels had been what she called training." He shrugged. "I've never quite understood for what, but you do, don't you, Lord Taren? Can you explain that thought about keeping humble?"

"Um … it's not easy to put in words, my lord." He would have to speak of his father later, and didn't want to do so now. "The pictures show what I've been thinking about for months. What I thought I was riding towards. But they don't really show the woman I met yesterday, only how others see her."

"Mmm. They're a bit … re-arranged, I grant, as tales usually are, but Kel did everything they show." They began to climb again, New Hope visible below them, and Taren saw dragons gathered on the green. "Or did you mean their size?"

"That's some of it, certainly, as with statues." And _his_ ornate effigy. "Say perhaps that they show what Lord Sakuyo made of her in those moments, not what she is in herself."

"Huh. Maybe." Vanget scowled. "I saw those moments, though, and I'll not be forgetting them. I've never been one for theology, so I expect you're right, but wait a moment and tell me what you think."

The groove ended, delving into the rock, and Vanget gestured. "Go on up, Lady Varia, and give a shout to let the sentries know we're coming."

Taren and Sam followed, Vanget shepherding them, and a sharp spiral brought them into the well-named Eyrie. He acknowledged the guards' greetings, and was interested Vanget knew their names, but the vista on all sides was breathtaking, and frames of petrified spidren-mesh in the south-western sides the first he'd seen. One of the sentries demonstrated their efficacy by lifting one down for a moment, letting a keen wind swirl in.

"Only fresh today, my lord, but strong enough to make looking up valley hard on the eyes. And we're right glad of them in winter."

Var was fascinated, and Taren added them to his list. He was gazing over the length of the fin when Vanget came to stand beside him.

"Kel does say Lord Sakuyo was with her out there, but as she tells it he was mostly enjoying the joke of her having to do it despite being afraid of heights. Then again, she puts it all down to that bow Lord Weiryn gave her, with the sunbird arrows. What _I_ saw was a superb commander taking a calculated risk in cold blood, and pulling it off. Don't doubt the bow helped, and without that arrow there'd have been no point, but _she_ made the shot possible, and took it. Now, that sounds like I'm agreeing with what you were saying about the paintings showing more than the truth, but I don't think I do. What she's got inside her is just as big as they are, and in the moment it showed, clear as sunlight. And right through the siege, really. Time and again, anyway. She's as mortal as you and me, and with better cause to know it, but I say those pictures are as accurate as a god could make them, all the same."

"I hear you, my lord. And yes, they are. But there's a gap, too, and she doesn't like people missing it."

"As I did, you mean, Tar? In the Gatehouse yesterday?"

That tale, with Taren's observations of people saying _she_ had struck down Torhelm, or taken on King Maggur single-handed, took them back to the Gatehouse, Vanget agreeing that in person and in her reports she was punctilious in assigning praise to others, as blame when that was due. He said nothing he shouldn't, but did convey a wry sense of what he called eyebrow-lifters, reports blandly stating some new impossibility, that led to animated discussion with Var about the Yamani engineers and the Vassa, interspersed with comments about the siege. The crenel from which the petrified giant had fallen was marked by an inscription, **Here Died an Immortal Victim of Uusoae, Petrified by Var'istaan** , that drew a story of soldiers recovering the petrified foot and wanting to display it until Kel put her own foot down and on the North Tower roof, where _she_ stood in the first painting, a self-deprecating story about Vanget's astonished understanding of the _blódbeallár_ in the jest, and amazement as Maggur's army had been more than halved in a few hours.

They had walked the eastern alure and were looking at the gathered immortals on the green — all the dragons, several young basilisks and ogres, and some small stormwings on perches, being addressed by Master Numair and another man — when a tawny-orange form swooped down, skimming over Master Numair's head so closely the mage ducked and nearly fell, while stormwings bated and the orderly gathering was disrupted. By the time he had regained his balance, black fire sparkling at his fingertips, Junior — it had to be — was beyond the Gatehouse, still rising, and the mage could only glare after him while immortals resettled themselves. Vanget shook his head.

"However those paintings may help Kel keep humble, they did Junior no good at all. He was bad enough before deciding they were all of him, with everything else just context."

All three siblings stared at Vanget, who shrugged.

"He doesn't speak as such, but at the wedding he stared at them for hours, and Kel says he still flies in when the terrace doors are open and preens at any pilgrims who haven't fainted with shock."

The thought was amusing, but Taren understood Duke Turomot's disapproval of impudent menace, and said so. Vanget nodded.

"Junior got bored while his parents were keeping negotiations honest, and even Kawit was getting annoyed with him, never mind Turomot."

"Can anyone control him?"

"Kel, a bit, and adult dragons, I gather. His parents seem to have given up. Kel has a nice line about them blaming her for letting him get bad habits when she had care of him as a squire, and never daring to point out that they let him get stolen in the first place."

"Is there anything she truly doesn't dare to do, my lord?"

Vanget grinned. "Not so's you'd notice, Lady Varia, but Their Featherheads _are_ very haughty. The Wildmage says all griffins are."

Conversation lapsed as they entered the cave system, another whole dimension of New Hope unfolding before them. Having been to the Eyrie they didn't bother with the Look-Out Post, though Vanget showed them the passage that led to it, a chamber where looms clacked busily, and the cell, presently empty, where Runnerspring had been held. The General's demeanour did not invite questions, but in the extraordinary passage cut through the fin he waxed enthusiastic about the bridge, and persuaded the guard stationed there to demonstrate its mechanism for a delighted Var. She was equally pleased with the linked portcullis and drawbridge at the Corral Gate, and they were all struck by the neatness of the stone-cutting and sheer depth of defences. As they followed the path at the base of the cliffs, past many doorways and the shuttered windows of _The Pilgrims' Progress_ and _The Bivouac_ , Vanget agreed.

"Despite that gods-blessed rescue mission, it was sight of this place that really made me take Kel seriously. It wasn't even finished but it was already an amazement. Give the refugees some proper defences, I said, thinking of a second Haven with a double palisade, and a few weeks later she had a fifty-foot glacis with a spiked moat and a roadway that has to be the most successful killing-field in Tortallan history." He shook his head in wonder. "Saw Wyldon at Giantkiller the day before I came here, and he was raving about the finest strongpoint since Northwatch, but with Eyrie and Corral added it puts Northwatch to shame. New Hope was shifting military reality for miles along the border even before she diverted the Great North Road past her new doorstep and got Drachifethe built. Amazing. And now it's round greenhouses!"

The crowd around the construction was smaller than the day before, but there were still several hundred people watching ogres being lifted by mages and a wingless dragon Vanget identified as Kawit, to attach the final sections of the framework, while others were slotting the great glass hexagons Taren had seen in the cart into interlocking circles. As a hemisphere the building had to be half as high as it was wide, and measuring with his eyes Taren reckoned the radius was not less than one-hundred-and-twenty-five feet, meaning — he checked his calculations, and swallowed — that more than an acre was being enclosed. Ground hard by the curved walls would have limited use, but there would be plenty of space for fruit orchards. Var was furiously scribbling in a notebook, but after a while put it away with a scowl.

"I have no idea how to calculate it, but I can _see_ it."

"See what, Var?"

" _Everything_ is weight-bearing, Sam. The load is completely distributed. That's why it doesn't fall down, and will resist wind pressure and snow-weight." She tapped her foot. "If the snow doesn't just slide off anyway. It's brilliant."

"Don't disagree, Lady Varia. Bit big for most places, though. Could it be scaled down?"

"I can't see why not, my lord. I think you could do it on _any_ scale."

They had to wait until the builders took a break to be introduced to Kawit and speak to Master Geraint, who cheerfully confirmed Var's insight and silenced them all by saying that while he and some ogres had had the idea, they'd been working by intuition until Lord Sakuyo provided a mathematics to map curved surfaces, allowing proper calculations.

"I'm writing it up for the Guild, my lady, but we're busy and there's a _lot_ of it, I warn you, and not easy. Our existing geometry comes from pre-Thanic and Carthaki sources, and it's all flat. Curved surfaces are _very_ different."

Var's questions were over Taren's head but impressed Master Geraint, who was willing to let her see what he'd written. They arranged to meet, and the engineer returned to work, leaving Var pensive.

"This really matters, Tar. It's as new as using what basilisks can do, and it will have other applications."

That was yet more food for thought, but though Var would have stayed watching all day Taren wanted to walk and tempted her with the other construction by the fin. As they headed back down the valley they found _The Bivouac_ just opening its doors, and were introduced by Vanget to the innkeep, Sergeant Connac. Going on, Vanget explained the man's injury during the siege and forced retirement, adding that Kel had found places for all the injured who wanted to stay, and ways for them to do as much as they could.

"Wrote glowing commendations for those who wanted to go home, too, and had me and the King countersign 'em. Can't remember the man's name, but one at least was from Stone Mountain. Don't suppose you know what became of him?"

Taren searched his mind he had inherited reams of paperwork, but nothing with those signatures.

"If my father received a letter from her, he didn't pass it on. But it might have gone to my uncle. I will find out. Do you recall the nature of the injury?"

"Lost an arm, I think, riding in the sally. Axe, probably."

The idea that there had been a man from Stone Mountain in the sally hit Taren hard. He didn't think his father would have ignored a letter from _her_ , not at that stage, but his uncle would, and if he had, leaving a maimed veteran to suffer, there would by all the gods be consequences. Taren barely saw the facilities for pilgrims, though the tea-house was arresting, triple rooves gleaming in the sun, and the middle-aged Yamani man laying neat matting within surprised them by remarking that the Most Blessed Protector- _sensei_ had only to select _kanji_ and all would be ready for its dedication. Returning through the tunnel Vanget said he'd heard plenty of _Blesseds_ before, Yamanis using that honorific for those who'd heard Lord Sakuyo laugh, which at New Hope was more or less everyone, but _Most Blessed_ was new on him, no doubt a result of whatever it was Kel had got up to in Yaman. Taren left Sam and Var to relate the King's sworn account, and returned to his room, writing an exact letter to Commander Svein, requiring action a thoughtful one to Captain Horgan, inviting reviews of procedure and a softer, longer one to his mother and aunt, expressing admiring wonder at all he'd seen at New Hope and confessing trepidation about the forthcoming meeting.

Lunch sittings were underway by the time he put the letters in the proper box, being told by a clerk that a messenger would be heading south next morning, and found Sam, Var, and Vanget watching smiths framing more glass hexagons and still discussing the greenhouse. The complex design was a barrier, but Vanget was clear on the advantage of any extension to the northern growing season, and frank about the difficulties even haMinches faced in feeding everyone if the harvest was poor. Ill-timed rain and frost being major culprits, glass-roofed fields were a greater attraction than one might think, even with the need to water by hand, and the General's detailed knowledge of the Peace Treaty, and just how much food went north as a result, took them through yet another excellent meal. There was no sign of the Countess, but soon after they had finished eating Lord Tobeis came in.

"General, Ma says the Yamani engineers have sent a first report, and you can find it in the Guild office." Vanget nodded, and Lord Tobeis gave them a guarded look. "And my lords, my lady, she and Da will see you in the house now."

They followed him out, and once Vanget peeled off for the doorway in the fin, Taren took a breath.

"I'm sorry, Lord Tobeis, if this conversation is upsetting for the — for your Ma. But for us it's a ghost we have to try to lay."

"Whose ghost?"

"Our half-brother, Joren. He was our enemy as much as hers. And our father cast a long shadow."

The boy shrugged. "You can't choose your kin, my lord, and it's not my business. But please remember Ma doesn't need any more burdens, and don't let her pick up yours."

"I can't change the history of Stone Mountain, but we'll try not to be Stone Fools."

A grin was followed by a disconcerting look. "Ma said Elimiaju told you I named them, but not why it mattered. The Yamanis just thought it was funny because it was true."

"I don't know if it does matter, Lord Tobeis, but Elimiaju was talking of the way he believes stone speaks, and thought the Stone Fools were more of a statement by basilisks. I don't really understand myself, but I hope to talk to Bard Olimiariaju about it."

Lord Tobeis looked thoughtful. "His ballad's full of stuff about stone speaking. The basilisks say ogres have odd ideas, but I quite like that one. And Kit says the finstone likes being strong, and is happy to be strong for us. But you shouldn't keep Ma waiting, and I'm due at the Corral stables. Use the middle door."

He went on towards the cave, dropping out of sight, and they turned onto the path across the lawn. Miss Loesia was waiting, and showed them to a comfortable study where the Count and Countess rose to greet them. It was clearly a private family space, couches and upholstered chairs in a rough circle, with a scatter of colourful cushions and rugs in the middle a small table held a beautiful teapot and five cups, with a caddy and boiling-vessel. Thanking Miss Loesia, they sat together on a couch, and the Countess knelt by the table.

"I hope you don't mind, but I find the tea ceremony soothing, and I thought we could all do with some calm."

The sense of ritual was peaceful, but as the Countess made the tea, whisked, and poured, Taren realised it was more than following set actions : the authority she radiated was being pulled in, banked down to become a conscious serenity, and it was not only the fragrance of clear green tea that helped settle his stomach. With everyone served she took her own cup, sat gracefully, and raised it to take a first sip.

"Peace be with you."

He recalled the correct reponse from his reading. "And with you."

She smiled. "You're familiar with the ceremony?"

"Only from a book, my lady."

"Yamanis have lots of rules, and they vary if food is served. Having an unimpeachable excuse to build some proper tea-houses is the best thing about all the pilgrims coming, frankly. But perhaps we should speak of your pilgrimage, my lord. What is it you wished to say, or ask?"

This was it, and all the advice he'd received tumbled in Taren's mind as Sam and Var took his hands.

"You said yesterday that we owed you no debt, my lady, and I know I am not responsible for the actions of my half-brother, uncle, and father. But becoming Stone Mountain, I inherit their guilt all the same, and they owe you much. So, for what little it can be worth, I begin by offering you the deepest apologies of Stone Mountain for their deeds and words against you, their corruption and corruption of others to their cause."

"Your apology is honoured and accepted, my lord, noting that you bear no guilt in the matter." Her eyes were distant. "Joren repented nothing, and paid all he had, but your father did offer me an apology of his own."

"So he said. I doubt it amounted to much."

"It didn't, but his abdication does. With his gods' oath of ignorance accepted, the King wouldn't have forced it. Did he tell you why he decided to do it?"

"No. Only that he could no longer tolerate the world, and I should heed you as he had not, because the gods walked with you as they never had with him."

"Huh. Tolerate the world? How very … Joren."

Taren blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Mmm. Bear with me a moment. The King said you wanted to ask me what the elemental said to your father?"

"Yes, but … I don't know how much sense this makes, because they're the same thing, but I don't, we don't, really care why Joren died, only that he did. But I do want to know what broke my father, and I'm not sure if the King heard, but the elemental said to tell you it didn't mind our knowing." The grips on his hands were tight. "Father was always so proud, so harsh and distant. Joren's death enraged him and ate at him, but it didn't break him. Then you took him to speak with the elemental, and he returned white and silent, more distant than ever, even when he started lecturing me about how I was a poor substitute but had to keep up traditions, and I could see he was, I don't know, fractured inside. Cracked, in spirit as much as mind. News of the treason was only the final straw."

"Huh. I imagine they arrived together, but news of the treason, or of the victory, do you think?"

"Um … aren't they the same?"

"Yes and no. The treason involved your father's … well, I don't know about friends, but close associates. The victory was over Maggur. But there's something else involved. I was going to say that what killed Joren and what broke your father weren't the same thing, but perhaps they were after all." She refilled teacups, and when she sat took the Count's hand in her free one. "Are you aware that the so-called Duty of Silence about what happens in Ordeals of Knighthood is not the elemental's rule, only mortal shame?"

"No. _Shame_?"

"Or something like it. One thing the elemental does to test you is make you watch helplessly what you most fear — loved ones being killed, homes raided and destroyed, and so on. As best I understand, it's meant to be like heating metal, so it can be shaped. What broke your father was learning that Joren had rejoiced at visions of him being killed, because he chafed under your father's rule."

"Oh." Taren slumped back on the couch as understanding filled him. "I saw only minor arguments between them, trivial matters, and Joren never criticised Father to us except to say he shouldn't have re-married, but that makes sense. Father was a stickler for everything, and Joren always wanted his own way. But he was so obsessively proud of Joren — his looks, and skill with the sword, his riding, and oratory. Knowing he was hated to death in return … yes, _that_ would have broken him."

"Treason within, capped by treason without." Var squeezed his hand. "The precious son just another who was unworthy of him."

The Countess winced. "As you were, Lady Varia?"

"We all were, my lady. Wrong colour, wrong shape, like our mother, not like him. But how is Joren hating Father what killed _him_?"

"It isn't. What killed Joren was hating me, or what he thought I stood for. Like all the bigots, he linked me to so many things I had nothing to with there was never much clarity involved. But the elemental read that hate, and knew he'd paid others to try to kill me, so it tested him by making him live in a world where I was queen, and the safety of Stone Mountain required him to submit loyally. He chose to die instead. That was what I meant by saying your father being unable to tolerate the world was very Joren."

"It made him your subject?" Var's laugh was as clear as it was shocking. "Oh, that's perfect. He must have been _so_ cross when he realised why he'd died." She sobered. "I understand why Tar feels he has to apologise to everyone, but I wanted to thank you, my lady, for standing up to Joren. It made him so angry that he couldn't beat you, and that made him meaner but gave me hope. I thanked the elemental for killing him, but it seems you're owed too. He was _horrid_ , always."

The Countess's eyesbrows were high. "Yes, he was, Lady Varia. Was it very bad for you?"

"Tar and Sam protected me, but we all walked afraid when he was home, and we all prayed for his death. Tar feels guilty for having done so. I don't."

"And you, Lord Saman?"

Sam shrugged. "A bit, my lady. Wanting a close kinsman dead isn't right, I know, but I was as relieved as Var when we learned he'd died. We'd all have been in trouble if he'd inherited. But Tar carried it for me as well as Var, and hated him for us as well as for himself. Joren didn't bother with me if he could get at them."

"Did your mother offer no protection?"

"None that worked, my lady." Taren sighed. "She had hysterics if she saw us badly bruised or bleeding, but it did no good. We learned to hide injury, and stay out of range. And yes, I'm glad he's dead, so glad, and I hate it that I cannot be otherwise. It feels so wrong."

"Yes and no." The Countess shook her head. "I say that a lot these days, but that's gods for you. I was glad of his death too, when I'd got over the shock. You know your father and uncle came straight from the Chapel and burst into Raoul's rooms, screaming at me, with your mother trying to calm them?"

"She told us a little, yes."

"I thought she was Joren's mother at the time. I didn't know your father had remarried, nor that Joren's mother died bearing him, though it might explain some things."

"I have thought so, yes. Our mother was little more than our father's bedwarmer and a social protection against other women with ambitions. Father raised Joren himself, with our uncle. I don't envy _him_ that."

"So you feel bad for him as well as for yourself, and your siblings?"

"Yes. Commander Svein told us you saw Joren as a victim, and I can see that he was. I know he was. But we were _his_ victims, all the same. And what was wrong in our father was magnified in Joren."

"Yes, it was. Your father is narrow, rigid, and for my money stupid as well as harsh, but he isn't wholly dishonourable. When the King's Council voted to subject Tirrsmont to an enquiry of noble competence your father abstained — he just sat there, and I thought at the time he was distracted because we'd just agreed to try to talk to the elemental about Joren's death, but I've wondered since if that was also his way of _not_ supporting Tirrsmont without offending Runnerspring and Torhelm."

"It might have been." Taren shrugged. "He only ever spoke to me of his allies and supporters in general terms, so I can't say if he'd have thought like that. And the distraction was real enough."

"Well, either way he _didn't_ support Tirrsmont, when it came to it, and dissociated himself from Torhelm as well as apologising when he saw me the next day. And I don't think he knew about Sir Voelden. Irnai's right about the painting, too — you wouldn't see him in Lord Sakuyo's greyness if he weren't willing to be there, so he must truly repent his mistakes."

"But not enough to face them. And he'll call his cowardice pride, just as he did all his other blindness and folly."

"Ouch. I don't really know him at all, but that sounds horribly true. He's still not wholly dishonourable, though, however skewed his thinking. But Joren had no honour at all, and I knew it even before what happened to Lalasa. He was halt in his soul, as Neal says. And what you're missing, Lord Taren, is that feeling your gratitude for his death to be wrong is a testimony to your own honour. Do you suppose _him_ capable of regret, even in death? I don't know so, but I'd bet your sister's right that he was furious when he stood before the Black God's judges, which will not have helped him. You've prayed to the Black God about this, I imagine?"

"Oh yes. Daily. But it doesn't seem to help."

"Mmm. Do you ask for help carrying the burden?"

"Yes."

"Try opening yourself to him instead. Let him take it from you, if he will. And I think he will. I'm not so keen on your idea that Joren's death was a down payment to me, but I will say that your prayers for his death were not misplaced, and may well have been answered — the gods think in the very long term, and in so far as they needed to shape me without touching me, Joren may have been playing his own part in it all."

"The elemental said it made its own decisions, but Lord Sakuyo had been deeper in things than it had known, and it might have played a part beyond itself."

"Interesting. Odds in favour, then. What happened to Joren, and to Vinson, mattered in many ways, as the King knows well. And there's this, Lord Taren, that you too were protecting the small, however you could."

Taren's eyes were wet. "I was trying to, yes, but he should have been with me, not against us."

"Yes, he should, but he has no power now."

"He has an effigy. White marble, gilding, and false piety. A great stone lie. Father spent _months_ obsessing over it. I want to smash it."

Hey eyes widened. "Goddess! That's understandable, but probably unwise. Could you paint it?"

"Or brick it up?" The Count spoke for the first time. "Family mausoleum?"

"Yes. Right in the middle." Taren shrugged. "I've thought of bricking up the whole thing, but a lot of people would be unhappy."

Unexpectedly the Countess grinned. "Time for some Tobe logic, I think. Don't like it, can't take it away, so add to it. Put in a shrine to the Great Goddess, so people can pray for her forgiveness of the dead for their treatment of women. I don't think she'd mind, especially if you make enough offerings to give it some potency. And keep it simple, to rebuke all that marble and gilding."

"Good one, love."

The Count was smiling too, and Taren felt the laugh rise until it could not be held in, and all three of them were laughing. Joren would be spinning in his silly tomb, and probably all Stone Mountain's ancestral dead with him, but no-one could rightly object. And if there were tears with the laughter, there was a new tranquility beneath both, a stillness of acceptance. The Countess silently offered handkerchieves, ignored the Count's smile, and tactfully busied herself making fresh tea. The cup's warmth was a gentle pleasure, and Taren let out a long breath.

"Thank you, my lady, for everything, but especially the idea of a shrine. _That_ I can do, and it will be a great help, I think. I knew I was in a muddle, but I couldn't see what to do, and you see so clearly."

"Not really. I've just got used to giving the gods more work. But you're very welcome, and I owe you some thanks myself. Lalasa was quite overcome that a noble would apologise to her."

"Mrs Weaver was owed, so I was only doing what was right, and we were all happy to learn what you'd done with the fine. But please don't thank me for talking to the elemental, let alone discombobulating it, if I did. We wanted to on our own accounts."

Her eyes narrowed, and the Count grinned.

"Alanna, love. Has to be."

Var nodded. "She told us what you would want to thank Tar for when she was warning us not to be too grateful, my lady, because it would be annoying and you were allergic to it."

The grin became a laugh, and the Countess scowled at her husband.

"I'm not that bad, Dom."

"Of course not, love — only sometimes just a little like a bear with a sore head. Half the problem, Lady Varia, is that people will insist on thanking Kel for the wrong things, and the other half is that royal, imperial, and divine thanks have a way of creating a great deal of trouble, so she tries to avoid them all."

"As if I could." But the Countess sounded resigned rather than irritated. "Anyway, being thankful is necessary, and I am. And if you three want to be, then can we please drop the vocatives unless they're needed? I prefer simplicity, and Tobe says it still gives him a turn when anyone calls him a lord."

"Are you sure, m—" She looked at him. "It seems disrespectful."

"It sounds friendly."

He took a breath. "Then we are honoured, Keladry."

"You're welcome, Taren. And Kel's fine too. Was there anything else?"

"Only what Elimiaju said about stone and fire talking, but I think we need Bard Olimiariaju for that."

"Fair enough. Beltane's a day for sitting and talking. What we should sort out, then, is what you're doing while you're here."

That proved straightforward. Var wanted to see mines and learn maths, and could with Masters Petrin and Kuriaju, who regularly inspected all delving, and Master Geraint while he was resident Sam wanted to learn and practice weapons and improve his Scanran, and after some questioning Keladry suggested he work with Uinse and New Hope First before trying things with immortals and Scanrans.

"All the First speak fluent Scanran, Saman, and you could learn a lot from Uinse. I'm working with my own guards quite intensively, because they're only just learning to fit together and I need to shape them into a force I can use properly."

Sam was content, and Taren himself was primarily concerned, beyond the various Guild contracts, with learning better leadership and lordship, and with how Keladry ran her fief.

"If I can ever get Stone Mountain humming half as well as New Hope I'll know I've really got something right. I don't have your innate authority, and our resources are different, but while I've made a start, I know I can do better."

"You want to shadow me, then? Lots of paperwork, I warn you, as well as some inspections. Spellmirrors are all very well, but there's nothing like dropping by unexpectedly to find out how things are really working, or not. And there will be times I'll need to exclude you, Taren. I deal with some confidential army and royal business, and there'll be people who won't speak as they need to if a stranger is present."

He had no problem with that, and Keladry discussed the coming weeks a little, indicating travel to the Vassa Road and Dragonstown. Then she fetched and introduced them to her twins, lively infants learning to roll over and delighted with the skill, and a while later he found himself blinking in the afternoon sunlight, and headed to the shrines to be properly thankful, and take Keladry's advice.

With the exception of Midwinter, when his father had always been away in Corus, the quarter-day and cross-quarter-day feasts had never been celebrated at Stone Mountain beyond a perfunctory dawn ceremony, so Taren watched New Hope prepare for Beltane with interest. In the few days he'd been shadowing her he'd heard Keladry give orders for a bonfire by the green and extra hunting for the feast, but people were obviously looking forward to it and did most of the work without being asked. Everything was spruced up, brushes and dusters much in evidence, as well as some repainting of shutters and doors, and he realised it served as a useful prompt for maintenance but there was also a simpler excitement that encompassed everyone.

Keladry's principal workroom was a large office above the reception room with the paintings, and on the morning of Beltane Eve Taren was drawn to the window by the sound of the rock spell. Master Numair and a basilisk were standing by the cistern that received the flow from the spring, the mage drawing water into the air and doing something with his glittering black magic before the basilisk roared, with more magic after. Keladry didn't rise from her desk, and spoke without looking up.

"Numair and Var'istaan?"

"Master Numair and a basilisk, certainly. And lots of water."

"They'll be making more icelight-beads. The children love them, and would have him making them all the time if I let them. A batch on each feastday eve keeps them happy, and there doesn't seem to be anywhere they think isn't improved by a string or two. Huh. Mandrinal, did you see this letter from Lord Ennor?"

It was mostly concerned with a request for icelights to improve safety on the Frasrlund causeway, but an addendum about a southern portmaster who had tried to impose a Masons' Guild tariff on a batch of petrified spidren-web mesh, saying all worked stone was so dutiable, that had Keladry exercised. Letters of thanks to Lord Ennor, and of biting complaint with sharp legal citations to the portmaster, were promptly written, copies of the latter going to Duke Turomot and the King. Mandrinal was a senior royal clerk on loan, clearly personally committed to New Hope, who had requested a permanent transfer the issue of Guild prerogatives and clashes was one of his special domains, and Taren took advantage to pose the question about Var and the Miners' Guild, or the Craftsbeings'. Keladry stared, and hooted laughter.

"Well, a noble female apprentice would do the Miners no end of good, but they'll never allow it."

"They used to. Var said she'd read their rules and there was nothing about barring women."

"Really?"

"Lord Taren is correct, Lady Kel. It's habit, not rule."

"Well, now. Could they be forced to it?"

"It would not be easy." Mandrinal frowned. "Then again, refusing an heiress of Stone Mountain would give them an almighty headache. How serious are you willing to get, my lord?"

"If Var and I decide it's really the best way to go, then as serious as I need to be, Master Mandrinal. I have no objection to expelling them from Stone Mountain, _if_ I don't lose production. But I didn't think the Craftsbeings' Guild would want that responsibility."

"Not soon, certainly. And not until our basilisk numbers rise, which they might. But everyone needs basilisks."

"Stone Mountain has labour enough, and basilisk cutting is a luxury. Ogres and mortal miners would be enough, I think."

"I dare say, but I need them myself, Taren, for a while at least. Tirrsmont is sorted out, and Fanche's and Saefas's coalmine up and running — or down and running — but there's another half-dozen reports of coal seams yet to investigate properly, and some other things."

"What would you think of a Craftsbeings' apprenticeship, Keladry?"

"Mmm. No problem in principle, and it would be a lot easier on Varia. Kuriaju's rather taken with her, anyway. But you're right there are a lot of political angles here. Wretched things, but it doesn't do to ignore them. Let me ponder it for a while."

Taren was happy to do so, and conversation turned to other letters, from lords, merchants, ambassadors, and all manner of people wanting all manner of things. He was still astonished by the sheer range of business Keladry routinely conducted with relentless energy — her army command, fief administration and security, Guild issues, and pilgrims' welfare, even before you added her status as King's Councillor and close connections with the Scanran Council of Ten. Having Master Numair in residence might explain how many spellmirrors she had, and they certainly saved on correspondence as well as speeding things along, but using them took its own time, and scores of letters were still dictated or delegated and signed every day. Whenever she could be she was cleanly decisive, and that was one key to generating the efficient hum Taren wanted for Stone Mountain, but many things were inevitably more complex and contingent, or dependent on others with less despatch.

He also finally had the conversation about Protector's Maids at Stone Mountain, and with it the satisfaction of persuading Keladry to something. She had been flattered by his request, if doubtful of the precedent and politics, as he'd suspected she would be, but his counter-argument that in the particular case of Stone Mountain those were to be welcomed gave her pause. It _would_ be remarked on, furiously, and Taren was very willing it should be, serving as not only a further break with the past but an unequivocal signal of political re-alignment. When he added that he really didn't need the money, while New Hope did, and would charge only nominal rents, she sat silently for a moment before agreeing with caveats about his personal involvement in vetting applicants and responsibility for the necessary administration until a Guild office could house it. A formal statement of permission was drawn up, annexes specifying financial and other procedures, and he signed it with pleasure, letting Vesker know what had been decided and asking all the men to spread word in any letters they sent.

One stream of Guild business was particularly interesting, for the King's command that all immortals residing in Tortall be brought under treaty with Guild oversight meant many new branches were required, with a consequent and severe problem of staffing. So far as immortals were concerned ogres were most readily available, and negotiations with Queen Barzha and Quenuresh about recruiting stormwings and spidrens at an advanced stage for the mortal component Keladry had turned to family connections and personal friendships. Through her brothers and sisters she had links to many fiefs, including Richcaffery, Teresian, Nond, Hannalof, and haMinch, the last boosted by friendship with Lords Vanget and Ferghal, but had also appealed to Goldenlake, Olau and Trebond, Cavall, Queenscove, Hollyrose, Tasride, Tameran, and more, asking for people with the rank and spine to make suspicious nobles toe the Guild line. And she had been answered, with a dozen volunteers already due to come for Samradh and stay until Mabon, to study the Guild's model and learn the regulations they would need to enforce. The whole was driven by the King's command and underlying desire to harness for all Tortall the immortal power he had seen at New Hope, but Keladry was taking advantage to build a network of influence and mutual advantage for her fief. Those who became Guild officers would gain a great deal in status and earnings, and though the whole point of the Guild's system was to ensure profits went to the deserving, branches would tithe to support its central administration and burgeoning college of magical co-operation.

It was admirable, but left Taren sharply aware of Stone Mountain's isolation. His father's alliances had not been cemented by marriages or any system of patronage and employment, and that had to change, but he would never dictate Sam's or Var's marriages, his uncle and aunt were childless, and any cousins very distant, so his resources were limited. Or so he thought until Keladry, hearing him lament, became distinctly brisk.

"Poach and adopt, Taren. From Genlith, for starters. You have money, and he was always tight-fisted in his own fief, according to Turomot, who was moaning about having to keep people he's cleared idle while he tears the place apart and the King frets about what he's going to do with the fief. There have to be people you could entice. Invent jobs to suit skills, and be generous enough to make them grateful. And don't think it's only noble connections that matter. Your ancestors badly limited Stone Mountain by fixating on the Book of Gold, so you should look well beyond the Book of Copper." She grinned. "When Wyldon and his family came for my wedding, one of his wife's maids fell for a former Tirrsmonter who bred boarhounds _and_ got on with Wuodan and Frige, so he's now employed in the kennels at Cavall and sees more of Wyldon than most ever will. We're friends anyway but it builds connections, and something that Tirrsmonter said to Owen, passed to his father, prompted Dagal of Lisbethan, whom I didn't know at all but also breeds dogs — mastiffs and wolfhounds — to write asking if I'd support a petition to the Council about cracking down on breeders who let animals suffer. I did, as did Daine, and everyone was so taken aback it passed and Dagal now counts himself in my debt. Serendipity, but make the effort and it'll turn up."

Taken aback himself, Taren spent an evening discussing it with Sam, Var, and (after some thought) Vesker, and wound up with a list of jobs he could reasonably invent. His mother and aunt could certainly use assistance with hedgewitch and healer work, Captain Horgan would not be unhappy with extra soldiers, and — Sam's clever suggestion, after hearing of much dog-breeding — there was no reason Stone Mountain should not breed scent-dogs to help in mine rescue, and every reason it should, besides the inviting connections with Cavall and Lisbethan. A flurry of letter-writing ensued, to augment the considerable volume of mail Keladry despatched to all points every day.

He also received mail for the first time since leaving Corus. Svein reported all well, with questions about this and that, and his mother was beside herself with pleasure at the petrified dinner service and triple portrait by the Protector's Maid she also had news of a dozen hedgewitches who had warily emerged from the fief's population, and of children and mothers already saved from one or another disease, with warm praise of Svein for often dining with her and Aunt Lily. It relaxed Taren, as did Sam and Var each very much enjoying what they were about. Sam had nothing but good words for Captain Uinse, who ran a _very_ tight Citadel with a ferocious program of training, and to whom the improbable pairing of the dog Jump and Keladry's former warhorse Peachblossom actually reported while Var returned from accompanying Master Kuriaju to visit Mistress Fanche's and Master Saefas's mine burbling enthusiasm about cross-vaulted adits, wheeled carts for hauling coal, and petrified spidren-web masks that kept you from breathing dust. She and her clothing had been remarkably filthy, but a hot bath, generous payment to a laundress, and purchase of a protective overall solved the problem, and Var's happiness was worth anything.

All in all, therefore, Beltane was a welcome day of rest and chance to give proper thanks, and his enthusiasm ramped up as he saw children stringing lines of icelight-beads along rooves and paths. As dusk drew down their brightening glimmer lent a magical air, and though all would rise before dawn the evening was celebratory. They ate second shift in the messhall, the hum of conversation loud until Keladry rose to ask all to assemble outside, where those who'd dined first shift and many immortals were waiting. They followed her to the centre of the green, where benches surrounded the flagpole, and after quieting the crowd she gave brisk instructions for the morrow. Some were for the benefit of newcomers, but all were reminded attendance at dawn offerings was required, of shifted meal times, and the need to watch littles carefully, especially once fires were lit. Then she became reflective.

"Dom and I were away at Ostara, so I'm reckoning from Imbolc, and a lot has happened in that time. Our immortal numbers have risen, not only with the fighting ogres joining my Clanchief's Guard — I'll be presenting the Stone Tree Nation's three youngest members tomorrow, and four successful hatchings in a row is very good news for all sorts of reasons." Stormwings perched on rooves cackled agreement. "And besides my own contribution, waiting on Samradh, there are six babies to present, all doing well, as their mothers are, so that's good too. And you got a lot done in my absence, with ploughing and sowing, all the roadwork, the Guild offices in the fin completed, and hot-water pipes up and running, literally, so my thanks to all. But there's plenty more to do."

"Always, Lady Kel."

Uinse's interjection brought grins, and Keladry grinned back.

"You'd be disappointed if I slacked off, Uinse, but even for us the next week six weeks are going to be a bustle. I know I've started a lot of new work since I got back, with the greenhouse and Pilgrims' quarters as well as getting going on the Pilgrim's Way, but believe me, we'll need them all. Now, the Way will take months, but I want all other building completed as soon as possible, because there's another large project to sort out. His Majesty is creating a fourth company of the King's Own, to be stationed here — but where, exactly? The Citadel won't hold another hundred plus men and horses, and they aren't needed here anyway, but I haven't decided where to put them. Wherever it is, though, it'll have to be built properly, so let's get other stuff done and dusted soonest, please. And the second thing is that nearer Samradh we're going to have a lot of visitors, not only because the twins' Nameday is bringing members of Dom's and my families and other guests. The Guild is holding tests, several dragons are seeking Journeybeing status, which requires an observer from the Dragonmeet, and I suspect there'll be more than one. Skysong, Amir'aan, and Cloestra are due rewards for exceptional conduct in Yaman, as is Tobe, and there'll be witnesses for that, too. Then I gather another group of darkings will be coming to join the Guild, and Queen Barzha tells me some stormwings are likely to tag along. So I want New Hope looking its best. The cleaning this week has been good, but if anything else could use sprucing up or fixing, get to it, please. That's it for me, except to thank you all again for your hard work. Dom?"

The Count rose, giving his wife a wry look as she stepped down.

"Besides the usual, which I'll get to, two things. First, with extra training sessions for the Clanchief's Guard we'll be using the range at unusual times, so make sure you look before you cross it, and all parents, please reinforce that with your children. St'aara will remind them, and we'll redo the warning-sign by the playground, but you tell them too, loud and clear and often. We don't need accidents. Second, with the guests at Samradh we'll need extra grooms for a week or three, so if anyone who can handle horses wants to earn some coin have a word with Sergeant Garran at the Corral."

He paused to sip water, and Taren wondered how he could adapt this practice of feast-eve addresses, and what he would have to say to his liegers if he did.

"So to the usual, which for anyone new is that Kel resolutely leaves herself out of her summaries, and this time she had a lot to leave out. You've all heard stories and I have no intention of repeating them, but our rather eventful time in Yaman had consequences you should know about. First, the Guild is now recognised there, with a branch in Heian-kyó, the imperial capital. Second, Kel's title as Protector was also recognised, which gives her Yamani rank equal to anyone except the emperor. Third, we have a clear precedent that any attack on an immortal of the Guild will be answered with Immortals' Justice, which is immediate and final. And fourth, we have a significant new trade in food — Yamani bulk rice and pickles coming this way, for us and the pilgrims, and our luxury pickles going that way, so production has to ramp up. Lady Yukimi is coming at Samradh to oversee that, and there'll be jobs in production and transport, so anyone interested should talk to Mistress Fanche or Master Saefas. Duke Baird and Sir Neal will be here too, so healers, be sure to have a list of cases where you could use help."

He drank again.

"Now, there's been surprise about the scale of the pilgrims' facilities and the priority given the Way, but as Kel says they _will_ be needed. A lot of Yamanis saw her organise that Immortals' Justice, which involved the Wild Hunt and ended in the petrification of a senior lord and his allies, and a lot more heard her having a nice long chat with Lord Sakuyo when his temple was dedicated, so they wound up feeling very respectful indeed and telling all their friends. And as pilgrims will mostly be on foot, even with the new Way they'll take twelve days or more from Mindelan — which means wayhouses, and those need keepers. It'll be a family job, with food, linens, and stabling, so if anyone is interested, or knows of likely candidates, talk to me, please, soon. The Way will cross a lot of unsettled land, some quite wild, but there's no worry about safety. The fighting spidrens and imperial samurai who came back with us are an advance guard, and when the rest arrive they'll have responsibility for guarding the Way. But there's more to it, because it will be our main route to Mindelan, and make settlement of arable valleys practical, so both we and His Grace of Mindelan will be looking for farmers. Pass that word too, please."

He held up a hand, quieting the buzz of interested conversation as people took in the many opportunities there would be.

"And one last thing, which I'll do on your behalves as well as my own, to save you the risk. Kel, love, you've thanked us for hard work, rightly, and we thank you for your care of all. Yaman could have worked out very differently, and that it didn't is down to you, as Lord Sakuyo agreed. My heart was in my mouth more often than I like, but I couldn't be prouder of you, and so should everyone be. You've helped Yaman, reinforced our treaty with them, and made New Hope stronger and more prosperous than ever, and all our liegers thank you for it. And I do adore you."

Taren had watched Keladry flush while Domitan spoke, but her face softened with his last words and she let him pull her back up onto the bench and into a tight embrace. The cheering and applause were loud and prolonged, from immortals as much as mortals, quieting only when Keladry swept them all a bow, and even then she had to raise her voice.

"You're welcome, and that's quite enough of that. I'll see you at dawn."

She stepped down, Domitan following, and gave Tobe a hug before going to Peachblossom and wrapping her arms around his neck. Taren had been introduced to the notorious gelding, and thought that however Keladry might not hold his kinship with Joren against him, Peachblossom had his doubts on the matter, so he gathered Sam and Var and they headed for their rooms. He had taken to keeping a journal of what he was learning, and after adding an account of the feast-eve address, and the way opportunities were being anticipated, read for a while — a detailed history of Yaman Keladry had lent him — and sought his bed.

The ceremony at dawn was in itself unremarkable, simple offerings made, and the various newborns and newly hatched named in the sight of all, but made vividly memorable by resonant chimes that rang again and again, and the huge crowd. The main gates had opened an hour before dawn, and the whole population of the valley seemed to have come, all in holiday best. They filled the main level, scores of immortals crowding the terrace on either side of the shrines. Keladry was wearing a wonderful deep red dress, and wrapped a towel round one arm so young stormwings could perch as she named them to her liegers and the gods, and when they also received chimes adult stormwings seemed deeply amused, and other immortals interested. With the ceremony complete Taren caught Master Kuriaju's eye as he came down from the terrace, and asked about it. The ogre shook his head.

"More changes, Lord Taren. The gods don't usually bother with immortals unless we're in their way, but stormwings made themselves useful in Yaman carrying news they swore to by gods' oaths, duly acknowledged, which they found funny as such oaths don't actually bind immortals. It seems to have carried over, or maybe it's because Lady Kel was doing the presenting."

"It's funny to be acknowledged by the gods?"

"If you're a stormwing."

Taren took that with him to breakfast, mulling the many collocations of _divine_ and _humour_ that New Hope generated, and when Domitan came in found him more helpfully informative.

"Kuriaju's right about the gods' oaths in Yaman, but Kel's affecting stormwings and other immortals in many ways, and quite a few involve gods. Stormwings need strong emotions to feed well, which is a problem in peacetime, but having them fly with the Wild Hunt is a new answer. The Stone Tree Nation's birthrate is up as well, and one reason we're expecting those winged visitors is to negotiate more eggwifery, Kel calls it — help with their equivalent of breech births, and problems incubating steel eggs. Then other immortals are finding the Mortal Realm a lot more attractive with New Hope and the Guild in it, so I suppose you could say there are diplomatic issues arising about migration here from the Divine Realms, and the whole business with dragons, whatever it was exactly. And Kel got the gods to agree to make mates for tauroses, though I have no idea whether that's happened yet."

Taren stared, and Domitan gave a crooked smile.

"I know, but just file under _Kel_. The gods seem to want better relations between mortals and immortals, which is one reason they're so generous to New Hope, so I'm not surprised their relations with immortals are shifting too, and I take the chimes for hatchlings this morning as another sign of it. They all came from the egg knowing their names, so it's not like babies, but it does acknowledge the gods as superiors, and as flying with the Hunt needs Lord Weiryn's approval Queen Barzha's happy with that. Anyway, Kel asked me to tell you that she has things to do this morning — spellmirror calls to family, mostly — but has asked Olimiariaju, Quenuresh, and others to be available this afternoon for the conversation you want. Does it need to be private?"

"I really don't know what the answers to my questions might be, so I would prefer that."

"On the house terrace, then. It's open, but people will respect our privacy." Domitan grimaced. "I have to go and choose yet more clothing. Mrs Spinner is relentless. What are you doing in the meanwhile?"

"Collecting old webbing from Quenuresh, then I'm not sure."

"The centaurs and quite a few craftsmen and –women from around the valley take advantage to set up booths. Leatherwork, pottery, embroidery, and the like, and food stalls. You'll find them along the Road south of the Stone Bridge, if you're interested."

Taren was, as were Var and Sam, so once he'd seen to his business with Quenuresh, who had been very pleased with a variety of cheese she said she hadn't had in a long while, and would accumulate more old webbing against their eventual departure, they collected Vesker and five men, as much with possible purchases in mind as an escort, and headed to the Road. Centaurs had pride of place hard by the stone bridge, where traffic from all directions had to pass, and were offering fine metalwork, buckles and brooches, as well as fletched arrows, saddles, and tack. With Midwinter and birthday gifts in mind, Taren had no hesitation in buying several small things, and a saddle for Svein that would be delivered to Lady Kel's house. The centaurs weren't uncivil but didn't invite conversation, and were doing brisk business, so they went on, finding a rich variety of craftwork on offer, most from mortals but some from basilisks and ogres. None of them had ever thought of immortal art, but it turned out ogres whittled intricately fascinating abstract shapes, while basilisks carved both figurative and abstract designs. The guards' burdens grew, and Taren rewarded them with spicy meat patties and sweet rolls.

Everyone was having a good time, snatches of overheard conversation revealing a fascinating range of understandings of the fief. Worries about immortals and divine carryings-on were limited to newer arrivals, old hands offering reassurance, and in all there was a fierce respect for and gratitude to their liegelady, well mixed with wonder and wry head-shaking. The great dome of the greenhouse, complete but awaiting orange and lemon saplings ordered from the far south, attracted much admiring comment, with keen anticipation of better supply and lower prices understanding that the pilgrim tide would bring opportunity was also widespread, and if there was some raillery about strange Yamani habits and tastes, there was no malice in any of it that Taren could hear. Heading back, with pauses to look at stalls they'd passed by before, they met the Yamani who'd been laying matting in the tea-room, discovering that he was Blessed Matsuo, had seen Lord Sakuyo at the dedication, and was happy to tell the tale, even without a proffer of refreshments.

It was a good deal more detailed than the King had managed and quite differently shaped, with the Most Blessed Protector- _sensei_ called to Yaman by Lord Sakuyo as his favourite daughter, and given a freer hand than she had known at the time to act against those who were most impiously disrespecting the High One, and most worryingly defying His Imperial Majesty. Having come to New Hope directly from Edo, Matsuo had not seen the _Sekkinukesaku_ , but described the image of what he called the Day of Stone Justice that Lord Sakuyo had painted amid his representation of the dedication itself, and had very interesting things to say of one Blessed Hidetaki, formerly First _kamunushi_ of the High One, and how wonderfully wrong he had been about everything, with the Most Blessed Protector- _sensei_ 's heart-wrenching grace towards him. They were also shown, reverently, a handkerchief wrapped in silk and bearing intertwined _kanji_ that Matsuo said meant _Protector_ and _Sakuyo_ , and told of how they had fallen by the hundred from thin air in acknowledgement of that grace.

It left them all with renewed astonishment and an enriched sense of what Keladry meant about Lord Sakuyo being all grace and hot needles. Vesker and the guards were most surprised by the reported tenor of divine conversation, but Taren found he had accepted what the King had said about her chatting with the god what he hadn't grasped before was how ruthlessly that god had used her, and how surprised (if delighted) he had been at the precise, shattering power she had harnessed and applied. Taren was, however, in complete agreement with Vesker's shock at the idea of a god who made you laugh so hard your eyes and nose ran, and then dropped a handkerchief in your lap, though he did point out that Keladry always carried many herself, so Lord Sakuyo had been complimenting her with a further joke.

With all the food stalls and the prospect of an evening feast, lunch in the messhall was minimal, and once he'd eaten he went to the shrines to acknowledge Lord Sakuyo's blessings and ask for clarity of mind and understanding in the conversation to come. Quenuresh was already on the house terrace, other immortals beginning to gather, and with a detour to his room to collect what was needed he headed there himself, Sam and Var in tow. Chairs for mortals and ogres were set in a loose circle, with spaces for Quenuresh, Var'istaan and St'aara with Amir'aan, and the considerable bulk of Kawit there were also perches for two stormwings, introduced as Queen Barzha and Cloestra. They were soon joined by Keladry, Domitan, and Tobeis, accompanied by Master Numair, Mistress Daine, and Lady Skysong, who scrambled into the Wildmage's lap. Keladry made herself comfortable as several sparrows sperched on her shoulders, and looked around.

"Well, I think that's everyone, so off we go. A tale of stone and fire, you said, Taren?"

"Yes, but one I'm not sure I understand at all. It was Elimiaju who first raised the question, and I hope for some advice and better understanding. I also have an offer I hope it is right to make."

He set out what Elimiaju had said about Bard Olimiariaju's ballad of speaking stone, resonances with the name and unhappy recent history of Stone Mountain, and events in Yaman, Sam and Var chipping in.

"So I suppose my questions are, first, what, if anything, the stone of Stone Mountain might be trying to say to me, and how I can hear it and second, whether there is in any of this a greater message I should be striving to heed, and if so what it might be."

There was a contemplative silence before Keladry stirred.

"Well, Elimiaju's right those are interesting questions, Taren. You wrote the ballad, Olimiariaju. First thoughts?"

The old ogre rumbled a sigh. "That I need some second and third ones, Protector. We have the speech of the stone here, and the speech of the gods, but if stone elsewhere in Tortall and Yaman is speaking to the same purpose then we are dealing with the Timeway."

 _Certainly. But there is the speech of fire also, to which both gods and dragons are more attuned._

"Do you know what it's saying, Kawit?"

 _Not entirely, Protector. Here it was of approval of changes you wrought and guided, and that approval, like the stone's, was shared with the gods and accepted by the Timeway. But Yaman is more complicated. The burning of Lord Fujiwara's compound was merely a deed of unhappy mortals, but it is true that Skysong's and Amiir'aan's natural means of self-defence brought from you a response that pleased gods and immortals alike, and has been accepted by the Timeway. As to Stone Mountain, though I can well believe its stone involved, I have heard of nothing fire might have said there._

"Is there anything, Taren?"

"Not in the sense of actual burning, no, unless the foundries count. We have plenty of molten ore, which you might call fire and stone together." He took a breath. "I did wonder if they had resented the uses to which Genlith perverted the metal we make from them."

No-one laughed, and Taren relaxed a little, seeing Keladry give him an appreciative if ironic glance.

"That I cannot say, Lord Taren, though I would not rule it out." Master Kuriaju spoke slowly, thinking as he went. "But you came here to ask for our aid in improving safety in the mines at Stone Mountain, and with Lady Varia told me of shoddy delving and far too many accidents. Stone will co-operate if you treat it well, and does not like to be left weakened. Nor is it always indifferent to the lives it takes. I wonder therefore if your stone desired change for the better, and whether you may already be heeding it, in coming here. How say you, Var'istaan?"

"Basilisks do not hear stone as ogres do. We work it, eat it, and make it. But I agree about its attitude to proper care, and being weakened, so your thought seems reasonable to me."

"And to me, though I hear neither stone nor fire." Quenuresh also sounded thoughtful. "But I am of an age when the Timeway is becoming clearer to my eyes, and its great force here, working through the Protector, boosted that. There are eddies before a roil, as well as after, and Blayce's necromancy was among them. So too, I think, were the machinations and impieties of Lord Fujiwara and his mother. It does not seem strange to me that events at Stone Mountain, helping to shape you, Protector, should carry echoes of any speech stone and fire made to the Timeway. But I wonder if that speech does not itself echo two others we have yet to name, older and wiser still, and roused not so long ago."

Lady Skysong swivelled in the Godborn's lap as she spoke.

"You mean Father Universe and Mother Flame, Quenuresh?"

"I do. Our teaching says all fire and life is hers, and all matter his, including stone."

"Her, yes, but he sounded to me as an essence of the void and dark. I didn't think of stone at all."

"The void is created by gathering matter in particular places, though." Master Numair scratched his head. "And they were by all accounts quite cross with Uusoae, whose remnants were active here, so I think I wonder too, Magelet."

"Diamondflame once said to me that the Timeway existed before either of them, and would exist after them."

 _That is correct, Protector, so far as we know._ Kawit sounded amused. _But not even Rainbow Windheart can tell what it might say to them, or they to it._

"Oh I don't know, Kawit. This kind of thing makes my brain hurt, but as gods and older immortals sense the Timeway more clearly, Mother Flame and Father Universe must sense it even better, yes? And _don't_ ask for details, anyone, because I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure one thing about the roil was a rebuke to the gods, and I know the biggest part of what His Nibs was up to in Yaman was one of their answers, in the form of _kenkouji_ , a healthy child. And he was working in stone and sunlight, which is pretty much fire, while the only thing I really know about the Timeway is that it likes its echoes and has irony down cold. So what would make sense to me, though that's not quite the word, is that it _is_ all connected. And whatever remains unknowable, that would mean two, no three things for you, Taren, and for Saman and Varia. One is that your suffering had purpose, and your liegers', to make you the people you are, better and stronger than either of your parents. Two is that the changes at Stone Mountain caused by Joren's death and your father's abdication were a part of the Timeway's roil, as much as events here and in Yaman. And three is that Kuriaju is right that you are already heeding what you should. You were moved to better care of your liegers and their children, and came here to offer reconciliation, gladly accepted. So it's another of those yes and no things. You're right to ask questions and wrong to worry about what the answers might be. I think."

Queen Barzha laughed as Quenuresh hissed.

"Such a _very_ wise Protector you are, these days. I concur. But I will add one thing, that it is not over yet, whatever it is. Even in this Mortal Realm, where there are echoes everything is double or more, and the Timeway's echoes are infinite. Why mortals speak of shoes dropping I have never understood, but I will bet there is at least one yet to do so."

"Several, I should think, and a boot with them." Quenuresh's teeth glinted as she smiled. "But Barzha is right about wisdom, Protector. I have thought before that if you cannot see the Timeway as Kawit, Barzha, and I do, you yet sense it as clearly as any. It _did_ choose you to rest on, and using the Staff of Knowledge had effects that linger."

"Tell me." Keladry frowned. "Neither Wuodan nor His Nibs named it to me."

"Mithros probably told them not to but there is no ban on its naming."

"No." Numair looked fascinated. "I wondered, Kel, from your account, but I've never read any detailed description. I must write yours down."

"Gah. If you must, Numair, but I'll have to tell Avinar when he gets here to grill me, and I'm not telling anyone else. Mortals don't need to know, anyway. Not their business. And not our business now. In any case, I think that's all the answers we can give you, Taren, until Olimiariaju has some second and third thoughts, anyway."

The old ogre gave Keladry a long look, but smiled. "I am already up to seventh, Protector, but I too concur with your judgement. And with Elimiaju's, who thought stone spoke not to Lord Taren but through him, as it does through you. Fire also, or Diamondflame would never have gifted you with the dragons', following Weiryn and the sunbirds'. And we might recall they gave dragons feathers for the asking, for the runes, knowing they would be placed here. Who knows what they know, in whose light Chaos may be read by those with eyes to see?"

"Gah. Again. I've had enough of Chaos for several lifetimes, and so have Daine and Numair. But the sunbirds' willingness has struck me before, so thank you, Olimiariaju. Now, Taren, you mentioned an offer you had in mind, but about which you were uncertain?"

"I did, Keladry, and I think I was right to trust my instincts, but it's your call. My forebears at Stone Mountain invested some of their ridiculous profits in gemstones, among them a ruby named long ago, by mortal standards. It is the Firestone, and after Elimiaju told me of his ideas I thought coincidence should be heeded, so I wondered if you would like it as an emblem of your office as Guildmaster. It's too big for a ring or brooch, but I thought a staff or rod of office." Ogres' whittling jogged his imagination. "If an ogre might carve one, and a basilisk petrify it with the Firestone emplaced …"

Taren took the wrapped and cased gem from his pocket, and was about to fish it out when intuition prickled, and instead held out the velvet bag for Keladry. She stared at him before she took it.

"Taren, are you sure? I know very little about gems but a ruby with a name must be extremely valuable."

He replied with care. "I am sure in myself, Keladry. Stone Mountain does not need it, and has had it locked away in a dark vault for more than a century. Here it might shine, and do some good, and if you think you can use it, and find it fitting to do so, I am happy to give it freely, not to you in person but to the Guild. I said nothing about it before only because I would not seem to buy forgiveness or alliance."

She nodded, taking the velvet bag. "Alright, Taren. That I can appreciate. Let's see what we're dealing with." She tipped the case from the bag, and opened it, eyes widening. "Goddess! It's enormous."

She carefully lifted the stone from its recess, holding it up for all to see, and as it left the shadow of her body for the light of the runes it blazed in her hand, deep reds tinged with oranges flaring so brightly that Taren's eyes watered. He felt silence spread, and knew many were staring. Even when Keladry shielded it again with her body it continued to glow brightly as if it held radiance like an icelight, vibrantly alive as it had never been in the goldsmith's vault. Her hands shone red where she held it. After a long moment Queen Barzha spoke, voice very dry.

"Well, that's a yes, and no mistaking. Air and steel may be my true elements, but I am not Queen of the Stone Tree Nation for nothing, and my eyes have just been deafened by the Firestone's speech."

"Mine too." Quenuresh was blinking tears, as Taren still was himself only Keladry seemed unaffected that way. "And it comes to me that there is an old prophecy of one who will light all three realms with a stone staff of fire, though I had not thought it a mistranslation."

Kawit nodded, saying something in a language Taren had never heard.

 _That is an interesting thought, Quenuresh. And if I am not mistaken, the seer was of the mortal nation encompassing the territory where that ruby was found. I remember hearing word of such a discovery some thirty centuries ago, but it did not then have a name. Darking Ebony, please be sure Diamondflame and Rainbow know of this._

"Fun?"

The squeak came from Keladry's collar, and Kawit nodded again.

 _I expect so, little one._

"Good. Telling now."

Keladry let the Firestone fall into her lap and, as Lady Skysong jumped down and went to peer at it, rested her head in her hands.

"Gah. For the third time. But don't mind me."


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 6: Chapter Five - Travels and Troubles Chapter Text

 **Five : Travels and Troubles**

 _New Hope, 2–15 May, 464 HE_

WITH guests due any time after the ides of May, Keladry wanted to undertake necessary travel promptly, and as the twins made her unwilling to be away for more than two nights, despite the availability of wet nurses, there would be two trips, one to the west, the other to Dragonstown. One day after Beltane was needed to clear up and settle everyone back into routine, but they would depart the following morning. Sam was more interested to continue training, and needed no guarding in the Citadel, but Var wanted to see what the Yamani engineers were about, so Vesker and his men would accompany them. Keladry, dealing with yet more paperwork, raised no objection, though she did observe that inns and wayhouses would be on the crowded side.

"Vanget's coming, and I'm taking all the ogres and Scanrans, Taren, because they need integrating, and if anything comes up they cut through the legalities."

"With fief and army command, you mean?"

He frowned, not seeing how that applied, and she shook her head.

"Worse than that. Hang on a moment." She found and unrolled a large map showing northern Tortall and southern Scanra, with the rough diamond of New Hope in the centre. "Fief and army command is just in Tortall. The Scanran half is a different problem, because my army command stops at the frontier and I have no authority to deploy any of His Majesty's soldiers to another country. Which means, on paper, that none of the four companies nominally stationed here can go north of the Vassa, nor to Dragonstown as that's in Scanra, properly speaking."

Taren stared, taking it in. "And in practice?"

"I did a _lot_ of talking with Jorvik Hamrsson and the rest of the Council of Ten, and they and the King agreed to a fudge. Uinse's New Hope First, who have the Citadel, and Dom's Second, at the Corral, remain regular army, and have to do so for at least another three years, until service in lieu of imprisonment is cleared. But Brodhelm's Third, who patrol, and Mikal's Fourth, at Dragonstown, wear my livery over army maroon, and though the King pays their wages the Council recognises them as Clansmen of Hléoburh. That's very helpful, but the whole muddle is one reason I was happy to accept the fighting ogres' service, because nobody can tell me what to do or not do with them."

"And I thought Stone Mountain's politics were complicated. Huh. The ogres and Scanrans came while you were away, I gather."

"Yes, a nice coming-home present. But I knew the ogres might, from Kuriaju. They've figured war's going to be in short supply round here for a while, thank the gods, and decided it's a good time to raise children."

"Oh. I haven't seen their wives."

"Yes you have. You just didn't recognise them as female. Ogres don't have any silly ideas about women not fighting, and the group is twenty mated pairs. I'm told that in the later stages of pregnancy — and gestation is fourteen months, Goddess help them — the women become, ah, fuller-figured, and will need maternity leave, but until then they're at full strength."

"And the Scanrans?"

"They're down to Ragnar, mostly. Ragnar Ragnarsson, Clanchief Somalkt. We got on at the peace talks, then he came to my wedding, on principle, and insisted a clanchief ought to have a proper Clanchief's Guard. And as I didn't have twenty large Scanran axemen to hand, he bent Jorvik's ears relentlessly and they came up with a clever scheme. Each of the twenty largest clans nominated one man, and I insisted they all have their letters, so now I have a proper clanchief's dignity, for my sins, and my twenty most important peers each get a monthly report of whatever I've been up to." She grinned. "Vanget's still laughing about the first ones they had to write, on Yaman, but I spoke to Jorvik and Ragnar by spellmirror, so the Council will get something resembling the truth."

"You don't mind being watched like that?"

"No. It would happen anyway, soothes crankier clanchiefs, and spreads word nicely, especially as more than half the men have families with them, all now sending excited letters home. With long northern winters Scanrans will want icelights too, and hoick'ems are going to be in great demand everywhere. Cross-training is coming along nicely, as well. The King did raise an eyebrow at having Scanran troops in Tortall, but even if my Clanchief status wasn't formally recognised here, which it is, they'd be covered by noble privilege. But we're wandering. Point is, First and Second here, Third mobile, Fourth at Dragonstown. And the question is, where do I put the King's Own Fourth? Can't be Scanra, legally, nor here, practically, but can't be too far away either, because they'll be working with armoured spidrens and samurai to guard the Pilgrims' Way. So I'm wondering about Greenwoods Junction" — her finger rested on the north end of the valley, where Great North and Vassa Roads merged, then slid west to where they had formerly met — "or Vassa Junction. I can see advantages and drawbacks to each, so I need a look."

"I've never had any military training. May I ask what advantages and drawbacks?"

"Greenwoods Junction is less isolated, and sees a lot more traffic. Building there would be easier logistically, and the men would be happier, as well as under my eyes. But although I have no regrets about diverting the Great North Road, that did no favours to the settlement at Vassa Junction. It's small, and there was never that much traffic because the only place wagon-trains can be going to or from is Frasrlund or haMinch holdings, and Ennor deals far more by sea than land while Ferghal tends to ship down the Drell. But they've lost out, and once the Pilgrims' Way is open they'll lose out even more, so an army station would be welcomed. It would also bring that section of the old North Road back into fuller use."

"Which you want?"

"Not particularly, but it isn't covered by my agreement with the Wild Hunt. Nor is the Vassa Road, except for the stretch where it's also Great North. It would take some spectacularly bold or stupid bandits, and I'm not expecting any, but if anywhere in the Tortallan half is going to have that sort of trouble it might be there."

 _We would smell bandits on any road, Protector._

Taren froze as a mindvoice quite unlike that of dragons rolled into his head, but Keladry only turned, eyebrows rising, to look at the _enormous_ hound who had pushed open the door and was padding in.

"Hello, Wuodan. I wondered if you might turn up yesterday, but you have good timing, as usual. How are you?"

 _All the better for our Hunt, Protector. Weiryn and Sarra did not come yesterday because they are saving themselves for your children's nameday. And Frige and I have been talking to Weiryn about the stormwings. We are all interested in Barzha's clever idea._

"Good. She'll be pleased. And I'll tell Daine about her parents — she was wondering. This is Lord Taren of Stone Mountain, by the way. Taren, meet Wuodan. He and Frige lead the Wild Hunt."

Taren bowed, stomach churning as fire flickered in the hound's eyes.

 _Greetings, Taren of Stone Mountain._ A large nose sniffed him up and down thoughtfully. _You carry much guilt that is not rightly yours. Is the Protector making you lay it down?_

"Um … That covers it, yes, my lord."

 _I am no mortal lord, Taren, and bear no titles. But that is good. False guilt is a false scent, of use to none. You again do well, Protector. But I came to tell you that we have agreed our guardianship of travellers here will extend to the Pilgrims' Way._

Keladry's eyebrows rose again, and Wuodan's tongue lolled. Taren had an impression that he was amused by something.

"Really? It's not the Great North Road."

 _It is a spur, and built to sacred purpose. Why should we not protect those who travel in piety?_ Keladry gave Wuodan a look. _Besides, Weiryn says we need the exercise, and he isn't wrong._

"Mmm. Well, I shan't say no, Wuodan, so thank you, and to all. There will be spidrens and samurai on that job, though, as well as men from the King's Own."

 _That is well enough. Watching them all spar will be interesting._

"There's that." Keladry's voice was dry. "Any other news I should know?"

 _Nothing that matters, Protector. Your fame spreads in all Realms, and your actions in Yaman have left many gods in high good humour, so they wait to see how you will next entertain and surprise them._

Keladry closed her eyes for a long moment, and Taren's sense of Wuodan's amusement deepened.

"Good for them. Do give Frige my best."

 _Of course. Fare well, until we meet again, Protector. And you, Taren of Stone Mountain._

Wuodan padded out again, startling Mandrinal, who greeted him and came in shaking his head.

"Oh my poor heart. It's bad enough when you see him coming. What did he want, Lady Kel?"

"To flatter, tease, and tell me the Hunt will guard the Pilgrims' Way, which they deem a spur of the Great North Road."

"Oh. That's … an odd argument. But it's good of them. Isn't it?"

"More or less, but he seems very pleased with himself, and I'll bet there were things he wasn't saying, though what is anyone's guess. Oh well, we'll see. Do you have the figures for the silver tax this quarter?"

Mandrinal did, and Taren left them to it. He found himself disturbed by the encounter, not simply because Wuodan was a divine being, and more than a little frightening, but by the tones of the conversation. There was obviously respect and affection, or what seemed it, on both sides, but the hound's teasing had also been evident, with reciprocal exasperation, and the idea of gods waiting to be entertained did not sit well with him. In all his thinking about Lord Sakuyo's jests he had not imagined their divine reception, and certainly not that the response might be a demand for more Keladry's taste for irreverence abruptly made a great deal more sense, and the prospect of meeting Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady at Samradh became even more worrying. There was also Wuodan's casual identification and condemnation of the guilt he was just learning to let go as false, and while he knew that was true he also found himself slightly indignant but there was nothing to be done about it, and he went to check on Vesker's packing and complete his own.

Sam saw them off early next morning, wishing the Scanrans well in their own tongue, and as they descended the roadway, half-a-dozen sparrows excitedly whirling around, Taren thought about the ways in which being at New Hope was making them all wiser. Language and weapons skills were the least of it, though Vesker admitted he and all the men had already sharpened up considerably exposure to the long and inhuman perspectives of immortals, and the shining force that was Keladry, seemed to leave the world looking very different. But the pleasures of the moment were more compelling than philosophy, for the day was fine, the sights interesting, and he was in excellent company, next to Var behind Keladry and Vanget, with Scanrans ahead and trotting ogres flanking all. Keladry pointed out the rebuilt rockfalls that had crushed King Maggur's commissariat and Spidren Wood, but otherwise said little until they came to Greenwoods Junction. Settlement in the valley had thinned a mile or two back, where it narrowed and bent north as the eastern hills grew rockier, but the Junction had the same four buildings around it as at Greenwoods Fork, smithy, inn, stables, and a fief office flying Keladry's flag. As they dismounted he asked her if she'd had them built at every larger waymeet, and she shook her head.

"Only where an inn was needed. It's nearly thirty miles from Dragonstown to here, and not much less from Vassa Junction, so for many travellers fifteen more to the Citadel is too far for one day."

Their arrival drew a liveried sergeant from the fief office, with grooms and the innkeep to see if anything were wanted, and she gave brisk orders to care for the horses, saying they'd be on their way in an hour or less, before turning to the man.

"Good morning, Sergeant Ellis."

"And to you, Lady Kel. I've had a think and a look around since I had your note, but I can't say there's anywhere I'd care to have to build a fort of the size you want."

Keladry looked for herself all the same, walking a little way up each road with sparrows swirling, and Taren had to agree with the sergeant. The hillsides south of the Vassa Road were steep and thickly wooded, with occasional crags visible, and the best of the Greenwoods Valley bottom was already fenced for pasture, while to the north there was only a narrow strip of land by the riverbank. Fief office and smithy fitted well enough, but a fort would not, and the Vassa was forbidding. It was the first time he'd seen the great river, save from the Eyrie, and it was no Olorun, the swiftness of the current clearly visible in the rippled surface. He said as much, and Keladry nodded.

"Oh yes. The Vassa keeps what it takes, they say, and it's not a river to mess with. The basilisks revetted the bank for me, when we were building, so we shouldn't get any erosion here, but the spring thaw can see a fair amount of damage." She turned, scanning south again, and shrugged. "We could excavate, I suppose, but it'd be a longer job than I'd like. Oh well. On to Vassa Junction we go."

The Vassa Road had yet to receive basilisk attention, but was well built and during the war had been thoroughly maintained, so they made good time. The river was too strong to meander, but bent with the lie of the land, and though mostly following it closely the Road did once cut an angle, rising and falling over a low ridge. Watching the sparrows, flitting ahead and on each side, and rotating short rest periods on Keladry's shoulders or saddle, accepting grain or nuts from her pockets, Taren realised they were scouting with consistent discipline, and wondered that it seemed only a sensible arrangement. They stopped to eat at noon, well-filled rolls for mortals and better-filled long loaves for ogres the fighting kind were just as vegetarian as miners and farmers, and as one called Moriju told Var needed bulk to keep up their strength. Some miles further on the Vassa angled north to greet a small but vigorous tributary on the Scanran side, and Keladry pulled up, gazing across at the naith, a sturdy wooden bridge that carried the trail on the further bank over the tributary, and the bank to the west, before riding on.

"If I could use the Scanran side and there was a bridge over the Vassa as well as the Drausir, that might do nicely." Vanget laughed, and Keladry smiled ruefully. "If wishes were horses, eh? But in time it might make sense to have something there."

She talked about the difficulties of her Scanran lands, with the continuing abandonment of Rathhausak even more underpopulated than her Tortallan ones. That no-one wanted to live by the burned-out castle that had housed such evil was understandable, but Taren could see that the problem would have to be faced sooner or later. There must after all have been reasons for choosing the Pakkai Valley as a clanseat in the first place, and with the place deserted for nearly three years the game would be rich. Vanget was frowning.

"Could basilisks not demolish the castle completely, Kel? If it didn't loom over the village, people would be more willing, surely?"

"They could, Vanget, and I've thought as much myself. The castle is hard against a cliff, but not elevated, so while it'd be a serious job for a whole bunch of basilisks it could be done. But on its own I don't think it would be enough. Remember the valley and every village within forty miles bore the brunt of Blayce's and Stenmun's terror, and hundreds of children died at Rathhausak. Plenty of adults, too. The Black God has the children safely, but there are ghosts all the same. I need to cleanse it, and that remains beyond me. I should ask Dabeyoun, if I get a chance. He's still owed his bone-feast."

Explanations of why Keladry owed the Graveyard Hag's hyena a feast took a while, and Taren and Var noted that the ogres were just as interested and surprised as Vanget.

"Do you count Dabeyoun among your friends, then, Protector?"

"Certainly, Veliriju, in so far as it's possible. He and his kin guard Haven for me, and I keep the Hag's shrine there well maintained. How he feels about me I can't say, but in Yaman he came when asked, and accepted my caress before he hauled the guilty souls from their stone. Does it bother you?"

"No, Protector, but it is interesting. I have not heard before of that one favouring a mortal."

"Mmm. Diamondflame said the same, but remember Dabeyoun's a trickster in his own right, as well as serving the Hag and her father. And you could say I have her blessing, however twistedly, as well as his."

After that she was silent for a long while, and at Vanget's discreet signal Taren and Var dropped back to give her what privacy they could.

"Don't ask." Vanget spoke so softly Taren had to strain to hear over the staccato of horses' hooves. "I know no details, and wouldn't tell you if I did, but that's to do with her death and return."

Taren nodded, and tried not to let curiosity niggle. The reports Horgan's man had relayed had been clear that when she asked three gods to strike down Torhelm, Keladry had sworn by gods' oath not only that she had died and been returned, but that what had killed her was tauros rape and the panel in the New Hope series implied as much. Determined to abjure his uncle's lechery as much as his father's pride, Taren remained virgin, and though he had more than once found himself rather too conscious of Keladry's physical grace and the way she and Domitan looked at one another, he shied from thinking of her like that, scorning such disrespect. Her death was beyond the bounds of decent imagination, and he contented himself with pondering Dabeyoun's place in the long list of gods and divine beings who walked with her, before getting Var to explain more of the new mathematics.

They came to Vassa Junction in late afternoon, and Taren saw immediately what Keladry had meant in saying the settlement had lost out in the changes she'd wrought. They were expected, and the inn and stables had a bustle about them, but both on the Vassa and former Great North Roads there were buildings in shabby disrepair, the outliers including several that were clearly abandoned. Broken shutters hung loose, roof-tiles were missing, and kitchen gardens had run to seed. Keladry was courteous to the innkeep as they sorted out rooms, with extra pallets in stable lofts and a dusty barn, but her face was set, and once dinner was agreed for dusk went to look around with a determined expression, sparrows in tow. A dozen ogres and as many Scanrans went with her, while others saw to horses, and he, Var, and Vanget tagged along. To Taren a derelict house was a derelict house, and Var and Vanget were equally puzzled by the close attention she was paying them, scratching at grimy stone walls and entering several briefly.

"What are you after, Kel?"

"I'm no basilisk, Vanget, but I'm fairly sure this is the same limestone we cut at New Hope. You find it all along this part of the Vassa valley, but southwards the rock changes. So I think it must have been quarried nearby, and I'm wondering where."

"No idea. The innkeep might know."

He did, directing them about half-a-mile south towards Bearsford, where a grassy trail led east around the back of a steep hill. The disused quarry was overgrown with gorse and scrub trees, but its outlines were clear — a ragged semi-circular gouge in the lower hillside, a little over a hundred feet across with sheer walls rising perhaps forty feet — and Keladry came to a halt, staring with hands on hips. Then she veered off the trail to climb slowly around the lip, descending again to enter the quarry. Ogres helped her clear a small patch of scrub, and scraped away a thin layer of soil and mulch, revealing uneven stone. When she came back to them she had a cheerful air.

"Well, that's more like it."

"It is?"

Vanget sounded dubious but Var suddenly clapped her hands.

"You want to roof it, Keladry?"

She grinned. "Great minds think alike, Varia. Clear it out, level the footing, and put a glass dome over the whole thing. Limestone's easy for basilisks to cut, so we can excavate barracks and communal spaces from the walls, and use that ashlar for a curtain-wall round the lip and across the front, as well as stabling and smithy. Even a small garrison could hold that against anything short of an army while they had food and water." She turned, gesturing. "And there's plenty of room between here and the Road for pasture, training-field, and ranges. Even a tiltyard."

Taren was struck with admiration for the vision, and Var was nodding enthusiastically, mind obviously whirring, but Vanget scratched his head.

"You want to put the Own's Fourth _here_?"

"Why not? It's twenty-some miles north of Greenwoods Fork, and only ten north of where the Mastiff trail crosses the road. I've got to put them somewhere, Vanget."

"I don't think the King has a glass-roofed quarry in mind."

"Tough. He probably wants them at the Citadel but there's no room."

"He wasn't budgeting for new building, and wants you training them, Kel. Put them here and you'll need to be in even more places at once."

"True, but that would apply wherever I put them, and it's less than twenty miles using the Mastiff trail. Besides, half of them will be patrolling the Pilgrims' Way, and it's the cross-training with samurai and spidrens that'll teach them what they need. It will also be quicker than starting from scratch, and the Guild will do the building at cost, as with the College of Arms. What's really bothering you about it, Vanget?"

"I'm just taking it in, Kel." Vanget shook his head. "I don't see things the way you can. We built half-a-dozen forts during the war, and it never occurred to me to do anything except start from scratch."

"You didn't have basilisks, and Geraint and the ogres hadn't invented the round technique." Keladry clapped Vanget's shoulder. "Don't blame yourself for only doing what was possible."

"And you've known about that technique for what, all of a month? But you've already applied it to the biggest greenhouse I've ever heard of, and now a fort!"

"It'll be a rather pretty fort, too." She grinned at Vanget's look, and Var stifled a laugh. "Come on, it's dinner-time and I can give my liegers here the good news."

While they walked back Keladry was already talking to Ebony, head extruded from her collar with a sparrow perched alongside, asking it to relay orders for Master Geraint and others, and once they had eaten — the food good and filling, but nothing to that at the Citadel — she asked the innkeep to assemble adults and older children. They came with wary faces, obviously uneasy about ogres and Scanrans alike, but Keladry's open acknowledgement of the loss diverting the Great North Road had occasioned them sat them up, and news of a new fort on their doorsteps was a palpable relief. The idea of using the quarry brought blank looks, but Var had helpfully drawn a sketch in her notebook, and young as she was her clear certainty that it would work was persuasive. Keladry wound up by charging them all to clean up the settlement and restore vacant houses properly, anticipating incomers drawn by the fort : horses would need hay, everyone needed food and clothing, and off-duty soldiers would want food, beer, and amusement.

For an hour or so she stayed talking to them, asking about problems and telling them what was and would be happening elsewhere in the fief. Taren could see backs and shoulders straightening, heads held higher, and steps becoming lighter seen talking to Var, ogres and Scanrans became less frightening, if not less fearsome, and were approached by bolder children, answering questions and showing their weapons. He recalled the carter and his family, thinking a renewed Vassa Junction with short-haul work to Greenwoods Junction and Fork might suit the man, and when he mentioned it to Keladry her warm smile of thanks as she made a note left him feeling uplifted himself. It was a striking display of leadership and stewardship, and beneath his continuing sense of wonder his admiration for her grew. It also occurred to him that Stone Mountain had disused quarries of its own, and he said as much to Var and Vanget, leading her to become abstracted and starting a quiet, interesting conversation with the general about the many lessons Keladry taught young and old alike.

When they set off again next morning people were already assembling to set about cleaning and repairing, and the renewal of purpose and hope was tangible. Keladry's mood was lighter, and during the morning she spoke of her childhood in Yaman, recalling with obvious pleasure what sounded like ferocious early training and describing an astonishing variety of pickles. The focus shifted naturally to her more recent visit, and there was some sharply informative discussion with Vanget of the Yamani Temple of Weapons, and its new Tortallan version, before the gated channels of the River Yodo made an appearance. The theory was clear — rapids meant a river falling with the land, and gated channels were a staircase boats could use to bypass them, up or down — but Taren found it hard to visualise, and Var's face was scrunched in concentration. Vanget, though, had a different concern.

"Got that from that report, Kel. It's a remarkable idea, and I can see it might work at Little Rapids, because there's room to build 'em. But at Great Rapids the Road's squeezed by cliffs. Where do the channels go?"

"There may be room on the Scanran side — that's one thing we'll be finding out — but if not, tunnels. Spiir'aan rolled his eyes about cutting that much hard rock, but was rather taken with the idea, I think. Petrin and Kuriaju were much the same, so it's just work, not a problem. And we can widen the road while we're about it."

"Tunnels? Mithros, Kel, that's …"

"Going to take a while, yes. It all will, Vanget — they reckoned six to eight months at Little Rapids, and I'm guessing two or three years for Great Rapids, depending on basilisk numbers, mostly, and workforce. But once it's done, it's done."

Discussion widened to the reasons Keladry wanted the Vassa opened to navigation and what could be done if it were, the whole given substance when in late morning they came to Little Rapids. The drop in the land over a quarter-mile was clear to the eye, and though the Vassa did not widen it clearly shallowed, water sliding down with a dull roar there were no visible rocks in its stream, and Taren thought none would resist erosion for long, but the boil and foam as the land flattened again was enough to make any transit downstream hazardous in the extreme, while the other way was plainly impossible. The Yamani engineers, aided by two squads in maroon embroidered with the New Hope owl and crossed glaives, were marking out shapes in a vast, flattened arc that left the river where it was still calm before paralleling it. Keladry was immediately recognised, and greeted with much bowing before they were introduced, and offered bows themselves. Then the senior engineer walked them through the site, explaining decisions in heavily accented and rather stilted Common.

Seeing the outlines of the first basins brought home the scale of the project, and the stretches between them puzzled Taren until Var, checking with the engineer, who nodded vigorously, explained the problems there would otherwise be.

"I've been thinking about it for a while, Tar, because if you have each basin emptying directly into the one below you need to be sure that all the lower basins are empty before you can start down. Making it a series of single chambers is easier than a true staircase, and quicker to use."

Taren was still thinking it through when the senior Yamani sent the others back to work, and with a lot more bowing began to report to Keladry about what he had found at Great Rapids, some forty miles further downstream. The gist was that there was not enough room on the Scanran side, and while the engineer conceded the principle of tunnelling, he was dubious about something more than the sheer scale but frustrated in trying to explain what. With an apology Keladry switched to Yamani, and a much livelier if more restricted dialogue ensued, with handwaving, during which she made notes in a pocketbook. By the end the engineer seemed less dubious and more intrigued, and she said something with a slight bow that was returned more deeply, and extended to them all before he returned to his fellows.

"Sorry about that, but he's a great deal clearer in Yamani. What was worrying him was the, mmm, ratio of vertical to horizontal. He says the Vassa drops over a hundred feet in less than a quarter-mile, and with the size of boat I'd specified, and therefore size of gates and basins, he wasn't happy with a single gate giving more than fifteen feet vertically. That would mean extending the side-channel beyond the tunnel and create all sorts of problems, but he was forgetting petrification."

She looked at Var, raising an eyebrow.

"Petrifying … the gates, meaning they're stronger and can hold a much greater weight of water?"

"Exactly." She gave Var a wide smile. "You're good at this. Geraint will have fun working out how to hinge and control them, but five basins with twenty-five-foot drops would do it, and I'm fairly sure that's possible. But it will take three years or so, Vanget, and there are other questions. We're only guessing about this, but for a boat to use the system will take several hours each way, and while there could be one in each basin, it'll be one-way traffic at a time — meaning a boat wanting the other direction might have to wait quite a while. And it would need to run one way, then the other. Or we could go for paired basins, one up and one down. I don't quite understand how the water would flow, but he says that's not a problem. It would take even longer to do, though. And the same here, or a bit more, so the real question is how much traffic there would be, and whether the extra work and delay now is worthwhile. And that's partly up to Ferghal, Vanget. Assume the Vassa is safely navigable from haMinch lands to Frasrlund, going down at the speed of the current, plus a day for the two sets of sidechannels, and coming up in maybe three times as long. Would he want to use it rather than the existing arrangements on the Drell?"

Vanget thought for several minutes, and blew out a long breath. "Deciding that'll take hard numbers, Kel, but unless cost is prohibitive, I think so. There are clear advantages." Thick fingers extended one by one. "Convenience. We have to haul goods to and from the Drell landings over the Border Hills, which is hard work, but the Vassa's right there. And anything going to central Tortall or Corus has to be carted on the Great East Road until it can go back to boats on the Olorun, but from Frasrlund it would be a single run to Port Caynn or Legann. Or north to Scanra, and that trade's set to grow even having to haul overland. Then politics. You want it, Ennor will want it, badly, and Fer will feel that strongly. Jorvik Hamrsson too, I dare say, and he's already been helpful in several ways. And then there's that thing we don't have a word for, your society of the Vassa Valley, which makes good sense to both of us. So strong advantages, and I can't see any real disadvantages — we're only a small portion of the Drell trade, so we wouldn't be doing many people down, and some are our people anyway and could be redeployed."

"So they could. And there'll be opportunities as the Vassa trade picks up — places to overnight, chandlers, boatyards, all sorts. Sensible Gallans will be interested too. So how do we want to shape any of that? Confluences, obviously — I want a presence at the Drausir and Smiskir naiths, because roads follow those rivers. But where else, and why?" Keladry rose, stretching. "I thought we could talk about it as we ride. If we eat in the saddle and use the Mastiff trail, we could be back at New Hope for the second dinner sitting."

Vanget grunted, and Taren thought about what a good thirty-five miles at speed would feel like, blanching slightly, but Var only grinned.

"Missing the twins, Keladry?"

"Ridiculously. And they'll be missing me too, so let's get going."

They stayed at New Hope for almost a week while Keladry discussed the new fort with Masters Kuriaju, Petrin, and Var'istaan, drawing in Vanget before he departed with promises of swift communication from his brother about the Vassa trade. Side-channels were also debated at length, and to everyone's interested satisfaction Master Geraint swiftly fashioned two simple models to demonstrate what Var had pointed out about basins as a staircase or a series of single steps. Kuriaju promptly whittled a pair of river-barges to scale, and Taren was amused and impressed next morning to find that St'aara had appropriated both models for the schoolhouse. Keladry also approved, and spent an hour talking to assembled young, mortal and immortal, about why opening up the Vassa mattered. They were more interested in working the models than abstract notions of change, but it struck Taren forcefully that although most of the mortals were commoners of very ordinary station — children of soldiers, traders, small farmers, and the like — all now understood the working of a serious innovation. At weapons practice next morning he asked one of the samurai how long there had been side-channels on the River Yodo, and discovering they were at least fifty years old wondered why no-one else had brought the idea to Tortall. It was oddly like the way no-one before Keladry had thought to use basilisks architecturally, and a further aspect of the changes she was driving took shape in his mind when at lunch Mistress Heliana responded to his observation by sketching the diplomatic interests in New Hope.

"His Grace of Mindelan explained it to me when he was here over Midwinter, my lord. It seems all the ambassadors in Corus would have reported as a matter of course on Lady Kel beginning page training, her successes jousting during the Great Progress, and her knighthood, because of the interest in her, good and bad. But almost all of them _heard_ her ask the gods to strike down Torhelm, so they, well, acquired a personal respect, His Grace said, which became professional admiration with the Peace Treaty." She dimpled. "He said he's been dining out in Corus on tales of his youngest daughter for a while, and expects to be doing so for the rest of his life, but he also says what _she_ wants saying, so word spreads about the Guild seminar, co-operation with immortals, and that we're open to visitors. We've already had mages and immortals visiting from Galla, Tusaine, and Tyra, as well as Yaman and Carthak. Once the Copper Isles have settled down, we're hoping a _kudarung_ might visit. And you're exactly right about exchanging ideas, my lord. Lady Kel says half the problems in the world could be fixed if people would only talk to one another properly, and to immortals. And she's right, for all we'd just think up new problems to replace them."

"I dare say we would." Taren shook his head. "I suppose I thought she had enough on her plate here without adding other people's problems."

"I know, my lord, but they bring answers as well as questions."

That simple wisdom stayed with him, and he found himself seeing more clearly how diverse New Hope and its customs already were. He had noticed that the food reflected Scanran as well as Tortallan tastes, with Yamani pickles thrown in, but it turned out ogres were fond of several spicy Kmiri dishes Queen Thayet herself had taught the cooks, and that all visitors were asked to add a favourite recipe to the cooks' knowledge. The festive clothing worn at Beltane had also been surprisingly varied, for women especially, with some in leggings and long tunics, others in wrapped dresses that imitated kimonos a grinning Irnai told him she had a gorgeous Kmiri outfit the Queen had given her, was getting some wonderful new dresses from Mrs Spinner, and enjoyed rivalling Lady Kel's influence on fashion. Architecture could be added, with pilgrim facilities acquiring more colourful triple rooves, as well as the greenhouse, and there was a very interesting afternoon when Keladry dedicated the teahouse, sharing a first ceremony with Blessed Matsuo and the senior samurai while a crowd of liegers listened intently to her explanations of the ritual and the peace it promoted.

The necessary _kanji_ Blessed Matsuo had mentioned were on framed scrolls hung in three corners, and Keladry had chosen _jest_ , _tranquility_ , and _healthy child_. The first two Taren understood, thanks to Elimiaju, and when he asked about the third she told him it too was picked out in light in the Temple of Sakuyo where the first two fell on the High One's painting, and had been the real point of his jest.

"You could think of it as a sort of gods' prayer to the Timeway, Taren, if that helps. I shall be choosing other _kanji for_ the teahouses on the Way, and having some fun, but here it had to be those three."

He didn't think that did help much, as the idea of gods praying was enough to give anyone a headache, but the Guild shop on the main level enjoyed some brisk sales of basilisk-ware tea-sets. Nor was the tea ceremony the only Yamani custom that was spreading, as he discovered when he saw Lord Tobeis and Irnai, with other children, playing a game called fan toss, and was left deeply startled by the revelation that the fans were also weapons. Tobeis explained their use by Yamani women, and happily agreed to order him one with the Stone Mountain sigil for Var, cautioning him without explanation not to ask Keladry about them. He also grumbled, as Domitan had, about being harassed by Mrs Spinner for clothes' fittings but was, Taren thought, actually quite pleased.

What bad association a fan might have for Keladry Taren had no idea, but after their ride back from Little Rapids, during which Var had been by her for long stretches, she thought the reason nursing mattered so much was that it helped with the burden of deaths inflicted.

"I was telling her Mother once told me she wanted to feed us as babies herself, and hated Father for forbidding it as common, and she said it was wonderful and very soothing to do, and that giving life was the only possible balance for dealing death. Then she talked about the Lioness healing others to heal herself, but I think she meant herself too, and that Commander Svein was exactly right."

An unexpected confirmation came from Sam, who had heard Captain Uinse reprimand a new recruit who hadn't been through the siege for a bad joke about the killing-field, telling him blood always weighed, even when you grew used to the burden, and if Lady Kel ever heard him say such a thing he'd find himself on latrine duty for a month.

"He meant it too, Tar, and told me afterwards that she'd taken on the burden of the killing-field for everyone, almost as the Black God does, and most veterans know it and pray for her on that account as often as for themselves. He wouldn't say more, but I've heard his men talk about the siege, and they were respectful of more than her deeds."

Taren wasn't going to argue, and saw how cheerful Keladry tended to be after nursing, as well as her invariable morning devotions at the shrines, even when it was raining and she trained indoors. There was also an unexpected funeral, a former refugee who'd passed his three score and ten and died peacefully in his sleep, that Keladry conducted at Haven and beyond the startlement of chimes, the eerie sound of wind that accompanied them, and stormwings' massed attendance, Taren was struck by the utter certainty in Keladry's voice as she prayed that the man find the Black God's mercy infinite and his death in her service his grace. The unusual ritual, with spoken remembrances of the dead man, virtues and vices alike, was interesting and satisfying, and Taren thought he'd be talking to his new priest at Stone Mountain about trying something similar. Keladry also saw him staring at a black stone marker on the far side of Haven that declared **Here lies a Lord of Genlith who sold and slew his own and was buried without tears or plea for the Black God's mercy** , and as they returned to the Citadel asked him quietly if he disapproved.

"Mithros, no. Not in any way, Keladry. I thought he'd burned with the other traitors."

"He would have done, but Macayhill, who killed him, asked for a grave so he could make his peace. I allowed it, but without ceremony. He lies next to Rogal, but Rogal's grave's unmarked because he died repentant and could be forgiven. Genlith didn't and couldn't." She had a wry look. "Actually, I forgave all the other traitors when I burned the pyre, denying only Maggur, because of Blayce, so you could say Genlith shares an unusual distinction, though I doubt he appreciates it."

"No. I saw him often enough, but we never spoke at any length."

"I never met him, though I did see him through a spyglass when they were building the trebuchet. And I confess I sometimes wish I could have seen his face as it burned, and find myself hoping that knowing The Girl destroyed both the weapons he made for Maggur _really_ galls him, even in the Peaceful Realm."

That it had been Keladry in person who twice thwarted Genlith was a familiar thought, and he nodded. "That I well understand." He hesitated, and she cocked her head. "You forgave Vinson as well?"

"Yes." She sighed. "I'm glad he's dead, and Garvey and Quinden, but they were fellow pages and squires, and victims too, as Joren was. Nobody's born with the kind of attitudes and beliefs they shared, and they learned those from the fathers children are supposed to respect."

"They also saw better examples."

"Did they?"

"You, for starters. And Lord Wyldon."

"I suppose. But they hated me before they even met me, and I don't think they ever understood Wyldon. Joren certainly didn't, or he'd never have spoken as he did at his trial."

"No." Taren sighed himself. "It's only that I can't forgive Vinson myself. He came to Stone Mountain quite often, and liked hurting Var as much as Joren did."

"Ah. Yes, that's reason enough, Taren. But cursing the dead doesn't help much. And it's different when it's someone you killed yourself." The wryness returned. "Counting Joren, I've killed, buried, or burned six men who were pages when I was, and three were in my year. Of six. So I have some distinctions myself that I don't much appreciate."

It took Taren a moment to tally the other names. "I would say I imagine so, Keladry, save that I can't. But I suspect the gods wanted it. And Sir Merric and Sir Seaver must be glad it was you who buried them, and cared for them in death."

She glanced at him, eyes sharp. "Merric was. I don't know about Seaver."

"You _do_ know about Sir Merric?"

"Yes." She hesitated, then shrugged. "Merric's spirit attended Rogal's execution, forgiving him and guiding him to the Black God. But poor Seaver was just one of very many I buried that day, and while I know he was accepted I've never seen his spirit."

"Would you wish to?"

"Not much. But he haunts me a little. He was loyal and brave, and could fight well enough, but Quinden aside he was the laziest in our year. If in death he knows about the last commander's report I wrote on him he won't like it much."

"Oh. Perhaps he's still lazy enough not to care."

Her laugh surprised him.

"Perhaps. I doubt he'd get the joke, but I do. And the gods would. I still don't know about Joren, but I think you're probably right about them feeding me my other enemies, by the way. Dom agrees too. You can call it justice, as it was, and war, so Mithros must have been involved, but don't forget to cross-file under divine irony, which always hurts in what the gods seem to think is a good way, and makes them laugh."

All in all, Taren was quite glad when they took to the road again next day, heading for Dragonstown, and not only because he wanted to see Drachifethe. He was slowly becoming used to the powers that swirled around Keladry, and sometimes, looking at New Hope, felt the high purpose of what had happened there, good and bad, but the way she thought about gods was deeply unsettling. Saddling up, he watched her gently tell sparrows to stay with Domitan, and heard her brief explanation that their leader, Nari, was getting too old for scouting but didn't like to admit it. It wasn't just her attitude to gods, he thought, but to everything, gods and sparrows alike, with all that was in between.

Sam came too this time, wanting to see the bridge, and Var couldn't have been kept away with both hands, so they rode together, marshalling ideas for Stone Mountain that had been piling up. Var had one he particularly liked, of using the abandoned quarry nearest the town, properly roofed, as a temple, with niche shrines all around, and he added it to the list of things to discuss with the new priest.

At Greenwoods Junction they turned east, and new landscapes held his attention through the afternoon. The Vassa stayed wide, fast, and chill, but its valley broadened as hills on the Tortallan side retreated, a line of bluffs began to rise on the Scanran bank, and the Road moved south away from the river. There was little settlement visible, but a fair amount of traffic in both directions, including pilgrims who pointed and bowed deeply when they saw Keladry, and they passed a small wayhouse with stables and fenced pasture that she said was for slower wagon trains hauling ashlar. With the sun westering a fort came into view on a ridge stretching south — ill-fated Giantkiller, sacked during the war, rebuilt, and now showing the grey of petrification but housing, Keladry said, only one army company. Where a winding access trail left the Road a low stone building was manned by a squad in maroon seeing Keladry their sergeant snapped to attention, and they paused briefly while she introduced Scanrans and ogres.

"Another inspection point?"

"Not really, Taren. Just a presence. Giantkiller was built to protect the Brown River Road, on the far side of the ridge, and this Road, but the men aren't exactly overworked these days. And as I can't use them in Scanra I have them patrolling to Greenwoods Junction, Riversedge, and Bearsford, so Brodhelm's men don't have to. The Roadpost is reassurance and can help travellers in need."

A mile or two further on the Road rounded the end of the ridge and came to the Brown River Valley at North Bend. The river was on the far side, its road on the near, and at the crossroads the Great North Road merged with it, turning due north. Going straight on they would have taken what became the Northwatch Road, bending south towards Anak's Eyrie turning north, they entered a stretch built at the same time as the bridge it led to, and the newness showed. Basilisks and ogres had been at work, and after a couple of miles they reached a low but quite steep hill with a long cutting easing the ascent considerably. As they emerged from it onto a raised section crossing a dell with a small stream to a second hill pierced by another cutting Var exclaimed, head turning from side to side, and Keladry grinned at her.

"You like it?"

"This is built of spoil from the cuttings?"

"Yes."

"Then I like it very much, Keladry. It's more cleverness."

"The basilisks liked it too, fortunately. On the old trail the ashlar wagons had to be double-teamed for the whole stretch, which was delaying everything, so we took a day and sorted it out."

"This was done in a _day_?"

"Pretty much. We had a deadline, so I called in everyone who wasn't building bridge-piers, meaning nearly twenty basilisks and more than a hundred ogres. Numair and Harailt helped, and the rock's quite soft, so we had square-cut ashlar being laid as fast as it could be carried. The only tricky bit was the foundation and bridging the stream, but as basilisks can petrify earth for several feet down without difficulty, and ogres love arches, even that wasn't too hard, and the rest flew up." She grinned. "It was a demonstration for doubters about the bridge, too. Jorvik and Ragnar came to watch, and left holding their heads, which amused the King, in a very Jonathan way."

It was the first time Taren had heard her use the King's bare name, and as they entered the second cutting he ventured a question. "Sir Alanna said His Majesty didn't like feeling out-matched."

Her smile was of the crooked kind. "That's a very Alanna way of putting it, but not wrong. To be fair, he's trying to rule a very large and complicated kingdom, and not doing badly, so having forces beyond his control acting for themselves is liable to be irritating."

"You're not beyond his control, though."

"No, but immortals are. The treaties bind them not to harm mortals, and foster co-operation, but they're neither his subjects nor mine. And he didn't understand what the gods were about at all." She shrugged. "Not that anyone else did either."

"You didn't?"

"No, but by then I'd mostly got over finding it annoying. We'd won, and the Treaty was signed. What mattered at that stage was the dragons' agreement to help, which was beyond the gods' control as much as the King's. And there's why it mattered."

They emerged from the cutting to see the land sloping down towards the Vassa, and gathering dusk banished by a warm glow, many hues mingling. The impossible bridge spanned the river to the top of the bluffs on the Scanran side, and above it stretched the tremendous shapes of two dragons, one golden and the other the tawny copper of griffin feathers, with a great golden crest. It was from them that light shimmered, reflecting in the water strongly enough to colour the great piers that supported the wide bridgeway, and bathing the settlement that spread along both banks. Taren had expected a wonder, not such aching beauty, and Sam and Var were equally entranced, mouths open.

"The light is the gods' blessings. The statues are dragonwork."

As they came nearer, slowly descending, Taren began to make out the shape of the settlement, though it was hard to tear his eyes away from the glowing dragons. Given the lie of the land, the bridgeway started high on the Tortallan side, seventy or eighty yards from the Vassa bank, and a line of stone buildings occupied the same level, on both sides of a basilisk-paved street Those nearest the bridge were larger, and despite well-tended gardens flew Keladry's flag and looked military others were varied, but clearly included shops, stables, and houses, and many more lined a score of cross-streets that sprouted back up the slope. Beyond them the lower slope was bare, save for some raised and very sturdy boathouses at the water's edge, and Taren recalled what she had said about spring floods. On the Scanran bank a long row of stone buildings lined the bluffs on either side, windows beginning to light up, and Taren assumed there would be more behind. Dragonstown was much larger than he'd imagined, and he thought the permanent population must run to a thousand people at least — larger than many fiefs in its own right, however it was only one of New Hope's towns.

Underpopulated as it might be, the sheer size of New Hope as a fief still meant it held very many people, and it had not escaped him that Keladry had clearly taken liege oaths not only from those at the Citadel, but (so far as he could tell) from every adult residing in her lands, save only soldiers merely posted there. The only other fief he knew of that did as much was haMinch : his father would have scorned the effort as beneath him, and the only historical examples he could think of involved rebellion against the crown, but he knew Keladry did so not to demand obedience but because she considered all her personal responsibility.

The point was underscored when they halted at the fortified building beside the start of the bridgeway proper, and she was warmly greeted not only by a swarthy officer and several soldiers in liveried maroon but by many civilians who swiftly assembled. Taren waited quietly with Sam and Var while Keladry spoke to them, noting that the officer was missing his left fourth and little fingers and that she seemed to know all the civilians by name, but mostly looking at the bridge and the astonishing detail of the statues, every scale outlined and lines of muscle beneath seeming to ripple in the glow. A large sign in Common named the bridge as Drachifethe, the Dragonwyrd, built by mortals, basilisks, and ogres with the aid of Lords Diamondflame and Jadewing, and Lady Wingstar named the adult dragons as Golden Eggs and Flamebreath and declared the only toll was to pray as you crossed for their peaceful rest, with their kits'. Beneath it a second sign stated that the first beings to cross Drachifethe, on the Ides of May 463 HE, had been all gods, manifesting to end the ancient feud of gods and dragons, and all gods having blessed the bridge, all gods were present here. Keladry came up beside them.

"Nothing more than the truth."

"Indeed. And it encourages civil behaviour, I dare say."

"There's that, yes. Wide as we made it, it can get crowded, and carters have tempers. But meet Mikal of Holtwood, commanding here. Mikal, Lord Taren of Stone Mountain, with Lord Saman and Lady Varia."

"My lords, my lady. Be welcome to Dragonstown, and Drachifethe."

Hands were shaken, and Taren once again found himself subject to shrewd appraisal — not hostile but intent, and he wondered what stories of their presence at New Hope might have circulated. They seemed to pass inspection, and soldiers took saddlebags while grooms took horses.

"We're staying here at the Bridgehouse, Taren. I have a permanent room, and there are guest-quarters, as well as barracks for my Scanrans and ogres, and your squad. But we'll be eating at _The Smugglers' Rest_ , on the Scanran side, and I'm heading straight there because I have clan business. Join me in an hour or so?"

She had told him of the former smugglers who were Clan Nihthelm, and he knew there was a case she had to rule on, so he nodded and she set off briskly across the bridge, accompanied by all her Guard save the ogres. He introduced Vesker to Captain Mikal, and saw his men settled, sensing their shock at Drachifethe and talking of his own amazement. Vesker was grateful, and as they left he found Captain Mikal approved.

"That was well done, my lord. New arrivals are often quite disturbed. Not that you ever get used to it, exactly."

"No. I expected wonder but not such beauty. And I didn't understand about the power it has at all."

"That's the gods' blessings, my lord. They've never harmed anyone." Mikal gave a predatory smile. "Though I have to say there is remarkably little trouble here, and they put everyone on best behaviour. Lady Kel's sent me a miscreant or two from other companies, for a spell, and they mended their ways very rapidly. Do you need a guide?"

"I don't think so, Captain. We can hardly get lost. Tell me, though, is there a temple, or shrines?"

"Certainly. On this side, three buildings west of the bridgeway, on the other, five east, next to _The Smugglers' Rest_."

"Thank you. Do the streets have names, by the way?"

He grinned. "Officially they're Main Street, East and West, on this side, and Hǽlgelad, Éast and West, on the other. Unofficially, most people call them Lady Kel's Way, North and South. She knows, but we try not to let her hear it as it earns a fisheye, and then some."

That Taren could well believe, and he grinned back. "She does have strong feelings about names, doesn't she? Though I might have too, if people were trying to name so many things after me."

"Maybe so, my lord, but there's no helping it here. She founded the town, as much as she did the Citadel, and everyone knows it."

He collected Sam and Var from gazing at Drachifethe and they found the temple, a square building with niche shrines along three walls, to the same eight gods as at New Hope, Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady again paired. An eighth niche had no figure, but held a plaque dedicating it to all gods who had crossed Drachifethe. Taren knelt briefly at each, and before the Black God found himself recalling the sound he had heard at the funeral, the god's own voice, and offering the prayer for Keladry that Sam said her soldiers offered. His mind also went to her need to cleanse Rathhausak, and what it might mean to have seen a friend's spirit, as she had seen Sir Merric's the High One offered no answers, but the candleflames seemed to stand taller for a moment, and he felt comforted, bowing thanks to the statue when he rose.

Outside the dusk had deepened, icelight columns set along the street brightening in the gloom, and Drachifethe looked more glorious than ever, its many colours mingling in the air and shading the wan Vassa with rich hues. They crossed slowly, Var's intent examination of each pier and the bridgeway drawing smiles from others. Many residents seemed to come to the bridge at this time, younger couples with children, older ones and friends with linked arms, appreciating the wonder they lived with. There were pilgrims too, wide-eyed and reverent, and as they neared the centre and saw the statues of the five kits on the central pier Taren's sense of the power present grew sharply. Keladry never spoke of whatever it was that had lain between gods and dragons, at least to him, but these were memorials, and seeing the size of the kits Taren knew they had died very young to pray for their peace was right, and as he did so he found his mind making connections — the ages of the dead kits, the children Keladry had rescued from Blayce, her words to King Maggur, that he died so children might live, the implacable justice she had visited on those who had sought to harm Lady Skysong, and _kankouji_ , a god's prayer for healthy children. However each was distinct, all cohered, and for a moment understanding shimmered in his mind, of her sorrowing rage for dead children resonating with the dragons' old grief, and a strange sense of an unpayable debt owed her by gods and dragons alike. But it was too great a thought to hold, and slid away into the fiery colours of stone, leaving a sharp desire to see the great ruby in this light and an unexpected sense of tranquility.

Nearing the Scanran side it was easy to pick out _The Smugglers' Rest_ , where a roofed deck projecting from the bluff held a large table on one side and smaller ones already filling with diners and drinkers, but they were early and spent a while exploring the northern part of the town. It was deeper than the southern, stretching several hundred yards back from the river to line the Vassa Trail, and less linear, streets curling on uneven terrain. Close to the bridge a wooded gully led down to the Vassa bank — the reason the ferry crossing had been here to begin with, Taren realised — but they stuck to higher ground, seeing not only the services one would expect in a place of pilgrimage, hostelries, farriers, and the like, but a wide range of shops. Many bore signs identifying their owners as Protector's Maids, further evidence of how well the scheme worked, but others had clearly seen opportunity here, and they passed a sleigh-maker's yard by a large kennels where sleigh dogs were bred, several furriers, and a bookshop Taren wished was open. Nearer the bridge were premises clearly catering to pilgrims, and they examined displays with some bemusement, seeing small but quite well-carved models of the bridge, others of adult dragons painted black or a very dark blue, light green, and gold-and-grey, a bewildering array of gods, some familiar, others unknown, and any number of things bearing Keladry's owl-and-crossed-glaives sigil, painted, embroidered, or stamped — tiles, mats, brooches, wall-hangings, rugs, clothing, handkerchieves, belt-knives and cutlery, plates, and even what they decided must be a bedspread.

Turning down Hǽlgelad East they stepped briefly into the temple, a mirror of its southern counterpart, and looked with amusement at the sign outside _The Smugglers' Rest_ — a weathered and winking boatman sitting back in a chair with his feet up and a pint-pot in one hand — before going in. A large room with a long bar was cheerfully crowded, conversation flowing in Tortallan, Common, and Scanran, and they received curious looks as they made their way to the bar. Several young men were serving, drawing beer and mead, but an older woman keeping an eye on things came forward, speaking Common with a Scanran accent.

"Would you be the lords and lady of Stone Mountain?"

"We would, ma'am."

"Lady Kel asked me to watch for you. The clan business is dragging on a little, but should be done soon. I can show you to your table outside or you're welcome to wait here with a drink."

They were happy to stay, and he and Sam accepted half-pints of beer while Var preferred a fruit twilsy. The woman, Kora Eriksdottir, said it was on Lady Kel's tab, but Taren insisted on paying.

"It's very kind of Lady Keladry, but I'd rather pay our way, ma'am. We've enjoyed a lot of her hospitality already."

"I'll not refuse good coin, my lord." Kora grinned, eyes speculative. "We have Tortallan visitors enough, but not so many nobles. What brings you north?"

"Guild business, mostly, ma'am. I've also only just inherited, so I'm trying to learn my new job."

Kora smiled. "Well, you're doing right if you're learning from Lady Kel, my lord."

"Clan Nihthelm are happy with Clanchief Hléoburh, then?"

"Oh yes. So's everyone, except slavers, and who cares about them?"

Taren knew Scanra still allowed slavery, or had under Maggur, but never having encountered it himself hadn't thought about the problem that posed for Keladry, and they were all interested to hear Kora's views. That Clan Hléoburh tolerated no slavery was unsurprising, but it seemed Keladry was actively involved in its suppression, and had made it clear to all that any slave brought into her lands would be freed, and any who escaped to claim sanctuary would be granted it. Some already had been, and however much their former owners might grumble, no-one was willing to risk her wrath, for which Scanrans clearly had a deeply wary respect, as well they might. The Council of Ten was being cautious, but several members had followed her lead, including Clan Somalkt, with smaller clans too, those enslaved as a punishment by Maggur had been freed, and the slave market in Hamrkeng had been closed.

"Where do the slaves come from?"

"The poor, mostly, my lady. They used to be taken in raids, too, but with Tortall and Yaman ruled out-of-bounds that's dried up."

There was a sudden silence in the room as four of Keladry's Guard came through, surrounding a white-faced man, and took him out to the street in their wake a knot of Scanrans entered, one with an arm around a crying woman. Kora looked round as one approached.

"What happened, Lars?"

"Later, Kora. You can take the guests through."

They swallowed curiosity and followed Kora out to the deck, where the view of the bridge and its light was wonderful, and Keladry with the rest of her Guards were assembling around the large table they had seen. Two others were present also, a wrinkled old woman introduced as Chief Gella, and her son Magnus. Keladry's face was set, and she spoke with a slightly forced cheer.

"Magnus does most of the work, Taren, but he was too suspicious to tell me his name, so the landgrant was to Gella and she's Clanchief Nihthelm. The Council of Ten hummed and hawed a bit, but they'd recognised me so they could hardly argue it was a man's job."

"As she is for ever reminding me, Lady Kel."

Gella gave a wrinkled grin. "Only when I need to, son. I told you often enough she was chock-full of destiny." She eyed Keladry before peering at them all with bird-bright eyes. "Still is. And you've some too, my lord, you and your siblings."

"Truly?"

"Oh yes. Can't tell you what, though. You'll have to wait and see."

That was less than satisfactory, but as food was served, a hearty soup followed by rabbit stew, conversation broadened, sliding between Scanran and Common. Much of it concerned increased river traffic, and Taren gathered that Magnus looked after boats needing to pass under the bridge, and through the new Union of Vassa Boatmen had oversight of everything on the river for miles in either direction. Given the dangers of the Vassa he could understand the need for safety and regulation, and was interested Keladry had considered a Vassa Guild, but decided against.

"A guild structure didn't really suit, Taren. An extra vote in the Council of Guilds might have been useful, but I'd either have had to get Magnus to Corus or set up another office there with a deputy."

"Thank the gods you saw sense, Lady Kel. What do Vassa boatmen want with Corus anyway?"

"You don't wish to see Corus, Master Magnus?"

"Not in the least. It's a den of thieves, by all accounts. The Vassa might be hard, but at least she's honest."

Taren thought that was rich from a former smuggler, and wondered at the man's attitude, but Var had a different question for Keladry, about the carved dragons they'd seen for sale. She confirmed that they represented Lords Diamondflame and Jadewing, and Lady Wingstar.

"Do the carvers or sellers pay the dragons somehow, Keladry? I was thinking of what you said about not allowing immortals to be exploited."

"They do, Varia, most faithfully." A genuine smile spread on Keladry's face. "When I first saw carvings of the bridge and living dragons for sale they were less than accurate, in shape and colour, so I spoke to Diamondflame, who doesn't mind carvings but does mind sloppy work, and after we'd agreed on the tithe, which helps feed dragon apprentices, I got him to send Jadewing here for a day. Jadewing is one-hundred-and-twenty feet long, nose to rump, extremely strong, and rather sweet, once you get to know him, but he's, well, not the sharpest dragon in the box, let's say, and takes things rather literally. Diamondflame wanted exactness, so exactness he would get, in every detail. Since then the carvers have been inspired to be, um, a great deal more diligent, and Icefall checks on them from time to time. She's Jadewing's daughter, so for all her bounciness they take her very seriously."

Var was grinning, and so were many people.

"I should hope they do, Keladry. Do the carvings sell well?"

"They seem to. Which is handy, as the apprentices eat a good deal, and presently want all the Yamani chillies I can lay my hands on."

The severity of _wanizame_ chillies took them to the end of the meal, several Guards confirming that they were not to be taken lightly, and with thanks to Gella and Magnus they headed back across the river. Keladry was still pensive, and they gave her some space, Taren quietly asking one of her Guards if there was anything he could say about whatever had happened. The man shrugged, but replied just as softly.

"All will know soon enough. A man of Clan Nihthelm was hurting his wife and children when he was drunk, which he was too often. Chief Gella ended their marriage, and warned him to stay away from the children, but the man foolishly would not accept it. Now he has lost his clan and his freedom as well as his wife and children."

"She's upset by having to sentence him?"

"In part, Lord Taren. She has given these who were clanless much, land, status, and protection, and she regrets his folly has seen him lose all. But the worst for her, I think, is that the woman accepted being hurt for so long, and even the children being hurt. She still defended him. Lady Kel was not happy with her, either."

"Ah. Thank you. That makes sense."

And in all too many ways. Neither his mother nor Aunt Lily had had any way out, and both had bent again and again to male bluster and rage, but they had not defended his father or uncle, nor Joren and he had still felt awful banishing his uncle. Sam and Var had been listening, and Var took his hand.

"Just count it as one more bully taken care of, Tar. Some more of the small protected. And let's buy a set of dragons for Aunt Lily — she's always liked carvings." Var gave him a very demure look in which mischief bubbled. "Or what about sending our uncle that bedspread with Keladry's sigil, against his lonely nights?"

Taren's and Sam's huffed laughter attracted Keladry's attention, and when Var blandly explained the plan her laughter joined theirs.

Next morning they accompanied Keladry around Dragonstown to visit all the Protector's Maids, though she spoke to many folk in passing. Taren purchased, among more things than he had quite intended, several sets of dragons and the bedspread, though on reflection he decided it was too fine a piece to be hurled onto his uncle's fire, and wondered who might appreciate it. Mostly, though, he and Var listened and wondered, grateful for help from Sam with rapid Scanran.

The Protector's Maids in Corus were all women from the Lower City who had skills but had lacked opportunity. Mrs Weaver had spread the scheme, and they had come from those she knew, contacts made as Keladry's servant during her page years. But here the women were all widows or orphans, their husbands, brothers, and fathers the victims of war, and Taren slowly realised that the dead men had not been loyalists, nor coerced, but conscripted — farmers, trappers, draymen, and the like, forced to fight with little training and inadequate kit, and so disproportionately likely to be killed. Keladry's conduct of the siege meant few such had died at New Hope, but other battles and skirmishes had slain them by the hundred.

And if those with new lives here were inevitably only a drop in the bucket, they were a larger drop than they might be, for in most cases two or three Maids ran a business together, and had jointly adopted as many orphans as they could house. Taren suspected there was presently a considerable net cost to Keladry, for rents were nominal, children received free schooling, and the tithe was low while they rebuilt their lives but paying it salved pride and in the longer run, as pilgrim numbers grew and the Vassa was opened, they would prosper and the debt would be more than repaid. It was a kind and generous scheme, yet would pay a profit and was already reaping a different dividend, for they knew their luck and to whom they owed it. The fierce personal loyalty to Keladry Svein had remarked was very evident, and from the Guards he gathered there were others of whom as much might be said, running wayhouses on her Scanran stretch of the Great North and Vassa Roads.

They were already late for lunch when Ebony squeaked that Mikal needed Keladry urgently. She took off at a run, guards and the three of them trailing in her wake, and by the time they reached the Bridgehouse it was a hive of activity, soldiers and ogres kitting up, and horses being saddled. Not knowing what would be necessary, Taren told Sam, Var, and Vesker to be ready to ride too, and followed his ears upstairs to a room where Keladry and Captain Mikal were speaking by spellmirror to a sergeant in liveried maroon. Seeing him she waved him in.

"Maybe, Pettir, but I don't like the sound of this at all. Ask Cerus to tell Wuodan and Frige, and start following the trail. We'll be there in force sometime tonight. Go."

The mirror blanked, and Captain Mikal looked at Keladry with a raised eyebrow. "What's ringing your alarm, Lady Kel?"

"Any number of things, Mikal. Illegal settlers Clan Beorhtscyld kicked out into my lands without telling me is bad enough, and Council business, but here's a question. If this _is banditry_ of some kind, did the bandits know these people were illegal, or did they think they were my liegers?"

"Why does … you think it could be bait?"

"What's cast-iron guaranteed to bring me and mine running, Mikal? Especially _there._ And, if it weren't for Cerus, thinking we only needed a proper search party?"

"Huh. Maybe. But who, and why?"

"We'll be finding out. I hope I'm wrong, but better safe than sorry. Taren, can I use your men?"

"Yes, of course. They're saddling up now."

"Good. Thank you. Make it two of your squads, Mikal, and find out where the rest of Brodhelm's are while I talk to Dom and Hamrkeng."

Other spellmirrors were activated, and from ensuing conversations, eyeing the detailed map of the fief on one wall, Taren pieced the story together. A squad of Captain Brodhelm's soldiers, patrolling the Smiskir Valley above Pakkai Junction, had been sought out by Cerus, of the Wild Hunt, with a distressed woman, one of a sizeable group of illegal settlers in the forested hills to the west. She was seeking help despite the risk of punishment because three girls had gone missing, and Cerus, coming across her, had gone to see, and said they had been taken by men who smelt of sweat, death, and malice. Keladry's exchange with Mikal became clearer, for children abducted not so far from Castle Rathhausak would always ring New Hope's bells, and unless the abductors had known the settlers had no right to be there, and counted on their remaining silent in self-protection, they must expect a reaction. Domitan didn't like it either, nor Jorvik Hamrsson, also disturbed about Clan Beorhtscyld.

"Something is wrong there, Kel. I've not heard from Vannar Leofsson in months, and it is not like him to have done this. He might banish a family from the clan if he had reason, but three at once? And he would not send any who earned banishment into your lands without telling you."

"Mmm. That's what I thought, Jorvik. They're closer to you than me, and your side of the Grimholds Spur. Can you get a mounted company down there as soon as may be? Give them the small mirror and I'll let them know what we find on this side."

"I will go myself, with Ragnar. And two companies, I think. Be careful, Kel. If the Beorhtscyldings are in this, there might be a hundred men or more. And there was a loyalist faction in that clan, not all of whom were at the siege. Who do you have available?"

"Besides the Chief's Guard, forty ogres, and thirty, no forty soldiers, counting the squad that's already there."

"Fifty, Lady Kel. One of Brodhelm's squads is riding from the lower Smiskir. All the others are at least three days away. So are my healers."

"Thank you, Mikal. So seventy mortals in all, and forty ogres. What I don't have is magepower, but I can call in Daine and Numair if I have to."

"Be sure you do, Kel. You are needed. And the gods go with you. Farewell."

The spellmirror blanked, and Keladry turned. "Mikal, two of your squads with packhorses to go find those settlers and bring them in. Kind but firm, at least until we know what happened."

"On it, Lady Kel."

"Taren, I won't take Varia into possible combat. She doesn't have the weapon skills. You and Saman are welcome to ride with us, if you want, but it will be hard going."

"Can you lend us remounts?"

"Certainly."

"Then I will come, at least. I'll talk to Sam and Var."

Var wasn't happy to be left on her own, but understood and urged Sam to go while begging them both to take the utmost care. Taren in turn was less than happy about leaving her alone, but Vesker and his men were needed, and he was persuaded when Captain Mikal promised a soldier would escort Var about town, easing Sam's conscience as well. In less than an hour they were mounted in borrowed half-armour and itchy helmets, clattering across Drachifethe, and even in her haste Keladry did not omit to slow for a moment passing the central pier, and salute the dragons. Taren murmured his own prayer, and settled to hard riding.

After clearing Dragonstown and the concerned crowds, they headed east for three miles, then swung north-east, following the Great North Road as it cut the angle towards the Smiskir Valley. The land rose and fell, forests covering low hills, vales rich with grass and early summer flowers, and they alternated between a steady trot and cantering, ogres matching horses with a loping run despite bearing packs as well as half-armour and weapons. Twice they had to manoeuvre past wagon-trains and surprised carters, but foot traffic moved aside swiftly. After a little over three hours, with the sun westering, they descended into a wide valley, and halted at Smiskir Corner, a familiar group of inn, stables, smithy, and fief office bracketing the junction with the Smiskir Road.

"We'll rest for an hour, eat, and change horses."

Taren and Sam were busy for half the time rubbing down their lathered horses, and shifting saddles to borrowed remounts. Scanrans and soldiers had assistance from stablehands, who also dealt with Keladry's horse and saddle. They had been some way behind her on the Road, and Sam pointed out with worried interest how well armed she was, with not only her glaive in a holder, but a longbow and staff, two sealed quivers, and paired Yamani swords in addition to the one belted at her waist. Taren wondered why so much was needed, but the question was driven from his mind when food appeared, a medley of whatever the innkeep could ready in time — hot rolls, bacon and sausage, cold cuts, cheese, and large pans of fried vegetables for ogres. Having missed lunch they ate ravenously, and soon found themselves back in the saddle, dealing with unfamiliar mounts and gaits.

An hour later, with dusk drawing down, they caught up with the squad of Brodhelm's men who'd been called in. All the Clanchief's Guard and a scattering of other soldiers, as well as Keladry, had thin icelight staffs fixed to saddles, and with the basilisk-smooth surface of the Road they did not slow as darkness fell. The Smiskir was to their right, smaller than the Vassa but running fast and often showing white over rapids. To the left wooded hills slowly gained height, and as a gibbous moon rose crags began to catch its light. With back and legs aching ever more fiercely, ears ringing with the steady clatter of hooves, Taren's sense of time drifted, but he thought it had been another two hours and some when they reached the wayhouse at Pakkai Junction, and amid more surprised enquiries from its keepers Keladry ordered another one-hour halt and switch of horses.

This time a stablehand helped him and Sam, and once saddles had been shifted they collected Vesker and his men, used privies, and entered the wayhouse, which bore a Protector's Maids sign. There was no hot food, only bread and cheese, and wonderfully welcome tea to wash it down. The men were as tired as he was, but not unhappy to be doing, and spoke quietly to the liveried soldiers. They were on second mugs, and carefully stretching muscles already stiffening when Keladry came in, seizing a roll and a mug of her own.

"Are you both alright?"

"Un-huh." Taren rotated his neck, and gave her a rueful look. "Just feeling the ride. How far have we come?"

"About sixty miles. Another fifteen or twenty to go." She finished one roll and took another, looking introspective. "We've done well enough. Last time I travelled from here to the Vassa crossing it took four very long days, and I walked it so more of the littles could ride. I can't say I ever expected to be back pursuing stolen children again."

"It must grate."

"Oh yes. Someone's in mortal trouble."

Her voice flattened for a moment, and Taren realised that beneath her driving purpose Keladry was deeply enraged. She must be feeling the ride too, but there was the same smooth control in her movements as when she pattern danced, and something that added a sharp sense of menace. Sam was aware of it too, as well as of soldiers listening, and spoke carefully.

"Could it be slavers rather than bandits, Keladry? Going for what they thought were your people as a kind of revenge?"

"It's possible, Saman, but why would slavers take only three? And only children? They usually operate in large enough numbers that they'd have taken everyone. It could also be something left over from the war — loyalists who'd been bad enough they couldn't go home and turned bandit, which might explain girls being seized. But I can't shake the thought that this is bait. It makes no sense, I know, but still."

"A divine warning?"

"Maybe." Her voice was thoughtful. "Using the Staff of Knowledge had some lingering effects, and older immortals think I've become quite sensitive to the Timeway, so I don't think it's nothing. And I don't much like any of the things it might be, people, so let's get moving and find out."

Remounting yet again was distinctly painful until muscles warmed, but it was a comfort to have his own horse back. The moon was high, and the day's intermittent cloud had cleared, so they rode under a thickly star-spangled sky, the Great Band clearly visible. North of Pakkai Junction the Smiskir was a little smaller and with the land rising steadily gurgled and splashed over small falls as well as skittering through rapids other streams joined it from the western hills, the Road bridging them on elegant arches. He marvelled at the fighting ogres' endurance : they could not change legs as mortals changed horses, but were unflagging, trotting and loping easily despite rolling sweat and widened nostrils. Night creatures stayed well clear of such a large party, but crossing a bridge he heard a heavy body crashing away upstream, and twice wolves howled in the distance.

Eventually they rounded a bend and Taren saw two campfires a few hundred yards ahead. Pulling up moments later with some relief he saw Keladry deep in conversation with several soldiers and a middle-aged woman haggard with exhausted worry. The site was clearly a regular bivouac, with a shelter, fenced pasture, covered haystack, and firepit, logs and kindling piled to one side. The soldiers who'd been waiting helped with horses, and he heard snatches of conversation about who knew what, or didn't. Abruptly silver flared, bringing silence, and he blinked to see a hound leap from thin air to stand by Keladry as a familiar voice filled his head, and from their looks, everyone's.

 _Protector. You have travelled fast for mortals. Frige and Cerus follow the scent of those who took the children along a valley that curves back towards the Road before bending west again. If you continue for seven miles a track will take you over a saddle to join it._

"Thank you, Wuodan. Can horses make it over that saddle?"

 _If you lead them._

"And how far beyond where we'd pick up the scent have Frige and the others already tracked it?"

 _Some fifteen miles, leading west into the higher hills._

"Hag's bones." For a moment Keladry stood with eyes closed, then a command voice rose clearly audible to all. "We'll take four hours. Make sure your horses are good and get your heads down. Pettir, you've been waiting, not riding, so your squad has the watch and care of the horses."

 _I will take care of the watch, Protector. Let them look to the horses and get what sleep they may. Then we can all push the hunt harder._

"Very well, and thank you again. You heard him. Heads down now."

The pasture was soon as crowded as the shelter, and Taren and Sam, sandwiched between an ogre and a burly soldier, watched briefly as men from Pettir's squad spread hay. The horses' orderliness as they ate was striking, and Taren wondered if Wuodan was doing something, or if it was one of the effects of the Wildmage, until sleep claimed him hard. It seemed only a moment later that he was shaken awake, but the moon had set, and he rose, groaning, to pack up his bedroll and resaddle his horse by ice- and firelight. Two men detailed to stay with the woman had made thick, sweet tea and roasted something that might have been goat over the fire. Sam hacked off slices for them both, and Taren chewed gratefully, wondering how he could make it through the day every muscle was protesting, and how Keladry could look so sharp and sound so crisp he had no idea.

"Alright, everyone, listen up. We've seven miles on the Road, fast canter, then a trail over a ridge, leading the horses, then a track along a vale leading west. The ones we're after are now at least thirty miles ahead from there, so we need to make all speed where we can. I'm not expecting any hostiles just yet, but assumptions get people killed, so keep your helmets on and stay alert. And as one possible reason for someone to think they could get away with this is having a mage, check your griffin-bands now. Anyone need a feather replacing?"

Mystified, Taren and Sam looked at the soldier next to them, and turned their borrowed helmets to look and feel inside. As his fingers traced uneven shapes beneath the lining, feeling the outline of feathers, the soldier reached out.

"Let me do it, my lord. That's fine." He felt Sam's. "That too. Do your men have bands?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Right." He raised his voice. "Lady Kel, the lords' helmets are good, but their squad don't have bands."

"No more they do. Good catch, Jens. Vesker, the bands protect from magical illusion, so be aware you and your men may see or hear something others don't. Don't hesitate to sing out. All well otherwise? Then let's get moving."

For the first few miles Taren was aware of a darker bulk looming to the west, and as his eyes adjusted he made out a cliff-face parallel to the Road. Then it retreated, and by the time Wuodan indicated they should leave the Road they faced only a wooded hillside. The path was a deer-trail, so single file was necessary, and Keladry had ogres lead remounts, roughly in the middle, with one of Captain Mikal's squads bringing up the rear. Wuodan led, shining faintly in the darkness, and he and Sam were not far behind Keladry, among Scanrans. At first it was a relief to walk rather than ride, but as the hillside steepened he had to dig into reserves he didn't know he had, determined not to show weakness or slow the column down. One part of his mind wondered if Keladry had put him and Sam where she had to elicit exactly that reaction another where the Scanrans could find energy both to climb and to wield axes swiftly and efficiently when branches obstructed the track. It was awkwardly narrow, with thick pine woods on both sides, but ran reasonably straight, climbing steadily.

When the ground began to flatten, he guessed the ridge was perhaps seven hundred feet high, and was thankful it was no more. Sam too, he thought, keeping half-an-eye on his brother as the trail wound along the ridgeline for almost a mile before angling over the saddle and starting to descend quite steeply. For a while Taren amused himself trying to decide if going down was worse than climbing up, or only just as bad, but the world soon narrowed to the fire in his thighs and lower back, the need to place his feet carefully, sometimes crosswise for grip, and the reins in his hand with his horse's steady breathing. It was almost a shock when the descent shallowed and he came out of the trees into a valley bottom with a wide stream burbling south, and beside it a path that animals might have made, but where icelight showed the crescent pocks of shod hooves. Once all were out of the trees Keladry dismounted and walked along the file, checking all was well and ordering redistribution of remounts, and Taren forced his legs to carry him as far as Vesker and his men. They were as tired as he was, but with the horses sorted out their only real concern was the matter of griffin bands, and on her way back to the head of the file Keladry stopped, producing a small bag from her tunic and offering a handful of tawny copper feathers.

"I'm sorry I didn't think to give you these before, Vesker. It's best if three are sown inside the helmet lining, one over each ear and one over both eyes, but even one has virtue. Outside the lining they tend to itch, but you can put up with that or just have one in a pocket, and hold it over eyes or ear if you have to."

"Thank you, my lady. They block illusion spells, you said?"

"They do, Vesker. Griffins will hear no lies, and illusion counts."

Taren joined her to walk back up the file, thanking her — at which she waved a hand — and asked a question that struck him.

"If illusions are lies griffins can't see, how could they accompany Quenuresh's dragon?"

"They knew its route and could sense the magic."

There was no time for more, and he swung himself back into the saddle, groaning as Keladry set a brisk trot, faster than on the Road to compensate for being unable to canter safely on a trail so narrow and untended. Though winding, the stream led consistently north-west, and there was little to occupy his mind except recalling what he could of the great illusion Quenuresh had spun, wondering how it had been planned and how a griffin could take station on magic doing something it couldn't see. From Keladry's 'Note' he knew the griffins' had had to be persuaded to take part, and speculating if the irrepressible Junior had played a role he slid into a foolish fantasy of riding griffins, and a more coherent set of thoughts about obtaining griffin feathers and what other uses they might have.

False dawn revealed a wider valley than he had imagined, wooded slopes on either side rising quite steeply but the bottom a mile or more of copses and meadows through which the stream chattered, often broad and shallow over a pebbly bed, sometimes narrowing for a stretch into a deeper, better-defined channel. Deer fled their approach, looking back uneasily, and birds fell silent as they approached. When they passed through woodland the scent of resin mingled with smells of rhododendrons and wild roses, underpinned by water, and in the meadows the sharper tang of grass crushed underfoot joined the faint perfume of small flowers. And they were still gaining height, leaving behind lower hills fringing the Smiskir and Vassa Valleys and moving deeper into the mountains of the Grimholds Spur — lesser than those of the range proper, Taren knew from his study of Keladry's maps, but mountains all the same. From the valley bottom nothing was visible beyond its skyline, but from those ridges the view north and east would be of peaks still snow-capped this early in the year, and beyond them higher peaks that always were.

About an hour after true dawn they came to a larger meadow and Keladry halted, ordering an hour's rest, hot drinks but no cooking and make sure wood was dry, and for everyone to stay on the nearer side while she inspected where their quarry had camped on the further. Rubbing down his horse and shifting saddle yet again to the remount, Taren saw she had taken Wuodan, one of her Guards, a liveried soldier, and an ogre, guessing each might see something others missed. Sam agreed, and one of the Scanrans, looking to his own horses, confirmed it.

"All our training with Lady Kel is about co-operation. All have different strengths that can build together. Wulf, with her now, is our best tracker. And who knows what Wuodan can see?"

"And smell."

"That too." The Scanran grinned widely. "To hunt with such a hound, eh? Clan Hléoburh is a wonder indeed."

He was Æschere, of Clan Fyrfeng, on Scanra's southern coast, and having checked on Vesker and his men, busy stitching or pinning griffin feathers in helmets, they sat talking to him, over mugs of tea and chewy strips of dried meat, until Keladry and her party came back. Accepting a mug of tea herself with thanks, she called everyone into a loose circle.

"This is making less sense than ever. We're following no more than a dozen horses, and Wuodan is certain the abducted girls are with them. So we have at most twelve men, maybe only nine or ten, who took three children from families forced out of Clan Beorhtscyld and over the Grimholds Spur into my lands, and who have ridden hard back to a lair the hounds have found. Wuodan?"

The news and Wuodan's mindvoice had everyone sitting straighter.

 _Frige and Cerus followed the scent all night, and have found much that is strange. The thieves' lair is a shallow cave fortified with a log palisade, some twenty miles further into the Spur. From this valley a path up the southern ridge leads to a hanging valley, and the cave is on its eastern side. And on that path, almost a mile short of the cave, are warning-bloodspells, set by a mortal. They cannot detect us, but we cannot shield you. And while we may track stolen children for the Protector, there are laws about hunting mortals we must obey._

"Meaning the hounds may lead and scout for us, but away from the Road may not fight or kill except in self-defence. And the question is, what are we dealing with here? Anyone have any ideas?"

After a moment Æschere stirred. "Perhaps it is not just any children the thieves wanted, Lady Kel, but these specifically. Why were their families banished? And when?"

"I know only what the woman said, that they were abruptly told last November there was no food for them over the winter, forced out at swordpoint, and took the southern pass over the Spur in desperation. They built a cabin and survived the winter, just, by hunting and trapping. The girls were gathering early berries and mushrooms when they were seized. Cerus found their baskets."

Taren thought it was Wulf who spoke.

"Has Clanchief Beorhtscyld run mad, to act so? If they lacked food enough, why not send them to Hamrkeng? All knew you had sent grain, Lady Kel, and more. Perhaps they were meant to die, and it has come to his ears they did not."

"Jorvik Hamrsson thinks Vannar Leofsson may have been deposed as Clanchief. Certainly something is wrong. He and Ragnar Ragnarsson are riding to see what, in strength." Keladry shrugged. "We'll know when they do. Jorvik also warned me that Clan Beorhtscyld had some Maggur loyalists who were not at the siege. Anyone know anything about them?"

A few details came out, but nothing that seemed useful to Taren. The Clan had come under Maggur's dominion early in his rise, and supplied many loyalists most had been among the besiegers, and many had died, some as _berserkir_. That had Keladry frowning.

"Was Clan Beorhtscyld strong in shamans, then?"

"They had one strong one, Lady Kel, but he died at New Hope."

"No others, Guthlaf? Apprentices?"

"I cannot say."

Nor could anyone else, and Keladry shook her head. "It's possible, then. Right. Let's wake some other people up."

She first told Ebony to tell Scarlet to ask Queen Barzha to report to the Citadel with enough stormwings to fly two people in nets, then took a flat case from her tunic, opened it, and used a black opal to activate a spellmirror. The response was immediate, and someone received orders to summon Domitan, Master Numair (who would need a mug of very strong tea), and the Wildmage, as well as passing orders to others. Within a few moments she was speaking softly to Domitan, offering rapid explanations but also asking after Tobeis, their twins, and his own welfare. As she did so her face was softer, voice lighter, but as soon as Master Numair and his wife arrived the air of driving purpose she had shown since the summons to the Bridgehouse returned. Her summary was succinct, and the questions that followed disturbing.

"Numair, do shamans use their own blood for blood magic?"

"Usually, Kel, but it's possible to use others' blood, and in some cases necessary. Love spells, say."

"Is children's blood ever necessary? Or girls' blood?"

"Not to my knowledge, unless one was a specific target."

"Are _berserkir_ spells blood magic?"

"No. It's not spells, just a trance state, sometimes drugged. The blood of totemic animals might be used, I suppose, but it would have no magical effect."

"I saw _berserkir_ at New Hope slash themselves with knives."

"That's for the pain, I believe. What are you thinking, Kel?"

"Only that girls might be taken and warning-spells set for more than one reason, Numair. Clan Beorhtscyld had plenty of men and at least one shaman close to Maggur. No-one knows of apprentices, but with bloodspells set that far away there has to be a strong shaman involved. He or she could have known Blayce, or Gissa and Tolon, or all of them, so whatever this is it could involve death- or blood-magic as bait to get me or my people here."

"Gods! I hope not. And Blayce would not have shared spells willingly, Kel. No killing device I saw had any trace of magic other than his."

"People must have seen him at work, though, Numair. And I have a bad feeling about this. I'm wondering about the Timeway, or a lingering effect of the Staff of Knowledge, and I think we're going to find something worse than kidnapping, that must involve magic. I'm sorry to drag you from the seminar, but I need you and Daine to fly here. I've asked Barzha to come in, to fly two healers, for the girls as well as any casualties, so they could bring clothes for you. Jerkins, too. And come in high, please, following the valley north-west, until you see us — you're both vulnerable flying low. I'll ask Barzha if the stormwings can scout ahead, once they're here."

Some careful description of where they were followed, cut short by Ebony's squeaked observation that Scarlet said Queen Barzha was on her way, and it knew the route they had taken. Then fires were doused, mugs stowed, and they returned to the saddle and the same fast trot. The worst thing about travelling single file, Taren decided, was the boredom of lacking conversation, but he was aware of tautening attitudes among soldiers and ogres alike, and tried to be more watchful, scanning right and left, remembering to look up as well as down, until his neck ached as much as his thighs and back.

As the morning wore on the sun rose high enough to clear the ridge now more than forty miles behind them, by Taren's fuzzy reckoning, and its warmth was welcome. So were the richer hues it brought to the browns and greens of trees, dull yellows of gorse and furze, and foaming glitter of the stream. They were still well below the treeline, but he knew from the air they had climbed two or three thousand feet from Dragonstown, and the changing vegetation showed it. What the flowers were he had no idea, but they were not the same varieties he'd seen earlier, leaves and blooms far smaller grasses were coarser, and as soil thinned the bones of the mountains showed more often in outcroppings of rock. One sill was steep enough that Keladry slowed them to a walk while the horses climbed it, and the noise of the stream sheeting down to the pool it had eroded at the bottom stayed with them for a surprising distance after they had passed.

With tension gnawing at his stomach Taren thought time would drag, but before he expected it an open stretch of meadow gave sight of the hanging valley Wuodan had spoken of only a mile ahead. A waterfall tumbled down a scarp of fifty or sixty feet, but on the near side an old rockfall, covered in scrub and gorse, showed the way up, and as they came nearer he could see the winding line of a path. Where it forked off another hound was waiting, and after listening for a moment Keladry signalled them to dismount and picket horses. However coarse, the meadow grass was lush, benefitting from the waterfall, and the horses seemed happy with it. Once they were done, they gathered around Keladry and the hounds.

"Much as I hate it, we have to wait for Numair and Daine, so we'll use the time. Taren, Saman, beside me, shortest mortals complete the circle, others around by height."

It wasn't until Ebony slipped from Keladry's collar to flatten itself into a rough oval almost a foot long that Taren understood taller men could see over shorter, and the ogres over everyone.

"Frige?"

The mindvoice was not unlike Wuodan's, but somehow female, and as it described the thieves' lair darking images appeared. The hanging valley was well sheltered, quite thickly wooded with stands of white pine, and the trail hugged the eastern cliffs, rising and falling a little. It was atop the steepest rise, over a rock spur covered in gorse, that Frige said warning spells were set. Keladry nodded.

"Drier ground. Could you tell how old the spells were?"

 _Not with certainty, Protector, but after the thaw. If they had been there during the winter I could tell._

"Spring. Huh. Go on."

Beyond the spur the path dropped again, ran level for a few hundred yards, and bent round a buttress. In the cliff beyond was a strange step, as if a whole section had slipped forward, with a ragged gully eroded in the angle, and at its foot a crudely hewn palisade of pine logs bound with rope and braced with piled stone made a rough square. There was a gate in the north-western side, a man's head visible by it, with another on the north-eastern wall. Ragged stumps showed where pines had been felled from a dense stand that pressed towards the cliff.

"How tall is the palisade, Frige?"

 _Fifteen feet. I had a look before dawn from the western cliffs, and there is a cave at the base of the rock, little more than an overhang but shelter. There was a watch of two men, as you see, but they did not move sideways at all, so I doubt there is an alure. With dawn I counted five who woke, and the watch was changed, but the rest stayed asleep out of sight. I could not count them, but there are twenty-three horses in a meadow beyond the trees, a half-mile further up-valley. The shaman who set the spells is there, and the children we followed. Others who have been taken too, perhaps, but it is hard to tell for the reek of blood and guilt that is not felt. Cerus watches and will tell us if any emerge._

" _Not_ felt? Probably loyalists, then. Empty men. Thank you, Frige. Is there anything else you can tell us?"

 _Not that is of use, Protector, but I do not like the feel of the magic at all. It is tainted with more than blood._

"I bet it is." Keladry's voice was flat, and she fell silent for several minutes, thinking hard. "Alright. There are too many unknowns, and we'll need whatever Daine and Numair can tell us, but our first purpose is rescue. That means asking Numair to blast the palisade isn't on. Veliriju, can you jump to grab the top of it and get over?"

"Certainly, Protector."

"Then detail five to do so, and get that gate open. Pull down a length of palisade if you can, to widen access. Ten others to grab all children and any adults who are obviously captive, and get them out, ten more to protect those ten. The other fifteen and all soldiers to fight all armed adults. Kill as you need, but I want some alive to answer questions, so just knock out anyone unarmed."

"And the shaman, Lady Kel?"

"I don't know yet, Veliriju, but I might be able to get a shot with the godbow from one of those pines. In any case he'll be my primary target with a special arrow. Guards, five with me as defence until I can get a shot, others with all squads to the fight."

"What about Sam and me, Keladry?"

"I can't say, Taren. Space will be tight, and a confined mêlée is not a good first combat. For now, with me. Get prepared everyone. Eat if you want, but no fires, and keep the noise down."

Ebony returned to Keladry's collar, and all did as they were bidden, honing swords, daggers, and axes, adjusting and rebuckling armour, chewing dried meat or fruits and drinking from water-bottles. Taren and Sam also watched Keladry, and realised Wuodan and Frige were doing so too, heads cocked with interest as she honed her glaive, then took bow and sealed quivers from her saddle, and without stringing it sat cross-legged with it across her lap, hands resting on it, for several minutes. She opened the quivers to consider their contents, and Taren saw fletchings in the rich hues of griffin feathers, while others glinted steel. A pocket on one quiver yielded a curiously carved wooden peg that she clipped to the middle of the bow, where it projected as an unusually long and to Taren's eye slightly low arrow-rest. Finally, she set bow and quivers aside, and rose to perform a pattern dance that began with slow extended sweeps and accelerated to a mid-tempo. When she stopped her face was lightly sheened with sweat, and after she'd mopped it with a handkerchief Taren offered her his water-bottle.

"Thank you." She sat and drank sparingly. "No point working out too much when I'll need the energy, but there's nothing like pattern dancing for getting muscles loose."

"So I've seen. Why the separate arrow-rest?"

"Lord Weiryn's bows don't have rests, and they aren't necessary with ordinary or griffin fletching, or even stormwing fletching if only the cock-vane's steel. But I have some arrows fletched with stormwing down, which are in theory very useful as they'll cleave through an obstacle to their target, just as the hatchlings cut themselves free from their steel shells. The trouble is the down is curly, so they rotate, and down will cut _anything_ to the bone and beyond. I gave Lord Weiryn the first one I made, from Amourta's down, as a curiosity, really, and when Dom and I ate with him in the Divine Realms we talked about their virtue and problems, and he made me the arrow-rest. The wood's flexible so you can snap it on and off easily, but it stays exactly where you put it. And the arrow sits on thin air two inches above it, so even a down arrow won't damage it. Gods are fair useful sometimes, as Daine would say."

Taren hoped he'd kept the astonishment off his face better than Sam, but what could one say to such a tale, with such a conclusion? _Useful_ was not a word he had ever associated with the divine, any more than _magical arrow-rest_ , and if he knew from the tale of Rogal about immortal fletchings with strange virtues, they hadn't included stormwing down cleaving through obstacles — which must mean more than armour.

"Are they mage-killers, like arrows with adult-stormwing fletching?"

"So Lord Weiryn thought, Saman, because any magic ought to be just another obstacle, and Barzha agreed, but as no-one's ever tried one I can only hope so. And here we go."

They rose with her, and Taren saw a strange procession flying towards them. Stormwings by fours carried two nets in which men lay, while others, including younglings, were more loosely grouped above, and ahead of them were two large hawks. As they neared soldiers and ogres shifted to open a space, and Keladry held out both arms for the hawks to glide down and perch. One had subtly wrong proportions, but Taren's attention went to the net-carriers, slowing to a hover before carefully descending until the nets touched ground and were let drop, the men they carried scrambling up and lifting packs and a tied sack while all the stormwings spiralled down to land with awkward hopping steps. One of the men jogged over with the sack.

"Clothes and jerkins, Lady Kel."

"Thank you, Morri. Alright, everyone, give Daine and Numair your backs so … hang on."

Taren's stomach lurched as the properly proportioned hawk's head distorted into Daine's.

"Kel, Frige relayed her report. Do you want me to go see what's inside that palisade?"

"Please, Daine. Ebony, show that last view again, if you would."

The darking leapt to the ground, flattening itself as Keladry carefully squatted and Daine and the misproportioned hawk peered intently.

"Can you also see if any of those pines nearest the palisade has a branch high and sturdy enough that I could take a shot from it? I have your Da's bow and a couple of down arrows. And I'd like to get everyone as close as those trees without them seeing us, if possible."

"Surely, Kel. Good thinking. Odd's bobs, but it's like a little New Hope replay, isn't it? Built in the angle, and you having to shoot from on high."

"Tell me. Be careful, Daine. And quick as you can, please. Frige doesn't like the smell of the magic one bit, and I still have a bad feeling."

"I will be, Kel. Raven-form, I think. Plenty of those up here already."

Human head and hawk body both distorted, amid a shimmer of magic, shrinking to a large and glossy raven that took off, climbing with a flurry of wingbeats.

"Stay flattened, please, Ebony, so the stormwings can have a look. Give Numair your backs, everyone."

As the misproportioned hawk turned on Keladry's arm and hopped off, Taren turned, seeing all do so. The practical problems of shapeshifting had never occurred to him, nor had he known that Master Numair could take hawk-form as well as his wife, though he had read that Carthakis had stronger modesty codes than Tortallans. The mage's voice came from behind Keladry with the sounds of clothing being drawn on.

"Thanks, Kel. I didn't hear Frige's report but even from here I don't like the feel of the magic either. It's vile, but nothing I recognise."

"Mmm. Magic aside, this might be more straightforward than I thought, Numair. There are only twenty-three horses, and no room for many more men that that, so we outnumber them heavily. Frige said they bear but don't feel guilt, so loyalists, probably, meaning hard men, but they'll go down. And if I can get the shaman, all you need to do is cloak us approaching, and contain any spells he's set."

"That all makes sense. Right. I'm decent."

"Make way so the stormwings can come to see Ebony, everyone."

Master Numair was fastening a leather jerkin over a short jacket, and as soon as he was done squatted to peer at Ebony.

"Easier for the stormwings if you can lift Ebony, Numair."

"What? Oh, of course." The mage stood, frowning. "Ebony, you're too light for me to lift safely with magic, but if you can stand a little cold …"

A line of sparkling black magic extended from the mage's hand to the stream, and scooped up a ball of water that floated towards him, shaping itself into a square column about six feet long. It settled just behind Ebony, and at a muttered word from Master Numair froze. Taren felt a wash of heat, then a chill. The mage stooped to grip Ebony by its edges, and lifted it to settle against the top of one side of the ice-column.

"There."

"Thank you, Longshanks. Another useful answer."

The stormwings had gathered while Taren was distracted by the magic, and the speaker was Queen Barzha. He hastily offered her a bow, and he and Sam stood back as Master Numair grinned.

"You're welcome, Your Majesty."

"And due our thanks." Keladry too gave a short bow. "I'm sorry to have had to ask you to fetch and carry, but Mikal's travelling healers were called to a house fire beyond the Smiskir Confluence and I couldn't leave Dragonstown without any."

"It is not a problem, Protector, when children are in danger. And the Godborn is right about echoes."

"Oh yes. The Timeway?"

"Maybe, but gods are in this somewhere. And it smells of death."

"I'll bet. And yes, they are, but that has to wait. I was going to ask you to scout, but Daine's doing it, you'd be seen, and I want to take them unawares if we can. But you're welcome to feed, of course, and please don't cackle but I've no objection to kidnappers as hoick'ems, if any of you feel so inclined."

There were no cackles, but Barzha's eyes glittered, and several stormwings bated, steel teeth exposed as they grinned widely.

"We'll see, Protector. If they are like those who came to New Hope, someone should kill them. Are you really going to try a down arrow?"

"Maybe. If the shaman's in the open and unarmoured a griffin-and-stormwing one will do, but for armour or any obstacle, yes."

"Such interesting lives we lead, these days."

"It's any interesting deaths I can do without."

Keladry ran swiftly through the plan of attack, everyone listening intently, and Taren found wonder at stormwings' and hounds' deference tempered by appreciation of the way it had already been refined. Master Numair's cloaking would get them within twenty or thirty yards unseen, and two soldiers from different squads, the best archers present, were to take out the sentries when they heard the Godbow sing. Healers were to follow her, and stormwings had been added in, too.

"If you were to fly round to the top of the western cliffs, _unseen_ , please, you'd see it start and could glide straight down. Focused terror might be useful, but watch for the stolen children and any other hostages — they can do without more suffering."

"Surely, Protector. We can feed, and it is a good angle for hoick'ems."

"Your call, but I want some alive to interrogate."

"Of course."

Soldiers and ogres were nodding with thoughtful expressions, but the Guardsmen mirrored his own astonishment. Taren sensed more clearly than before the journey they had undertaken in coming to New Hope to serve Keladry, and what it might mean, having known her as an overwhelmingly victorious enemy, to find themselves serving under her in combat that deployed immortals as allies, without even blinking. Just as Æschere had said, strengths were seamlessly combined, and none were asked to do what they could not do well and swiftly. Tortallans who'd known victory under her command were grimly confident stormwings had seen it and all knew of it. Lord Imrah's words about those who served her wanting to give of their best came back to him, blazing their truth, and he felt it himself, though he did not know if he hoped to fight, perhaps to kill, or to be spared the experience.

 _What would you have us do, Protector?_

"Would leading us off the path and round to those trees, unseen, be allowed, Wuodan?"

 _Certainly._

"Then please do. And once the fight's over … well, it'll depend, but if there are rescued children, comfort them as you can?"

The hounds looked at one another.

 _Comforting is not our strength, Protector._

"Oh I don't know, Frige. Having a divine being tell you you're safe can't hurt. And Cerus likes having his belly scratched."

 _There is that._ Wuodan's mindvoice was very dry. _Anything else?_

"Not practically, yet. Can you tell me if any gods are watching?"

 _Many, by now, I should think. Weiryn and Sarra certainly are._

"I dare say, but this …"

Keladry broke off as the raven returned in evident haste, its head deforming into Daine's as it perched on her forearm.

"Nineteen men, including the shaman, and six girls. One's just being stripped, and the shaman's up to something." Keladry muttered an obscenity, the first Taren had ever heard from her. "There's a tree that'll give you the shot, opposite the middle of the palisade, and I can't see why you couldn't get there unseen through the woods."

"Wuodan says he can guide us, Daine. Go back, observe, and try to stop any killing before we can get there?"

"Will do."

The raven took off again, and Keladry snapped orders, reducing the ogres who were to grab girls to six, the others joining the fight. Stormwings lumbered aloft, heading up valley to circle round, and in very short order they were climbing the rockfall after Wuodan and Frige, in single file at a jog. Taren and Sam were behind Keladry, in the van, with Master Numair behind them, and as they entered the hanging valley Taren felt as much as saw his magic envelop them.

"We're cloaked from anyone but the shaman, Kel, and he'd have to be looking hard."

"Good. Thanks, Numair."

She didn't turn or slow at all as she replied, only accelerated on the flat, and for some reason that more than anything brought the reality of it all crashing in to Taren. It wasn't a full day since Ebony had squeaked Captain Mikal's summons, and for all his aches the endless ride had been almost dreamlike even the darking's images had a fantasticality that distanced them. But now he was running towards combat, hand on swordhilt to stop it tangling his legs, sweat beginning to bloom on face and body, heart hammering and gut clenching. The girl being stripped — to rape? to kill? — would be no older than Var, probably younger, and he knew exactly why Keladry ran, and he ran with her, at once enraged and terrified.

Well before they came to the rockfall with warning-spells Wuodan and Frige took them off the path, between two stands of pine and onto a faint deertrack that skirted a third. They had to slow a little but still ran, and a few moments later a third hound slipped from the trees to join them. Crossing a small meadow bordering the tributary stream they hugged the eastern eaves, then left the deertrack to weave between boles, footfalls cushioned by a thick blanket of fallen needles as well as magic. A shallow gully was no obstacle, nor the bare trunk of a fallen pine. Taren had lost all sense of direction but the hounds never faltered, and soon drew up in woodland dense enough to be gloomy though more light filtered down only a little way ahead.

 _Walk straight forward, Protector, and you will leave the trees opposite the midpoint of the north-western palisade._

"Excellent. Thank you, Wuodan. Deploy, everyone, and go hard when I fire. Gods be with you all."

Taren barely had time to notice Master Numair's magic effortlessly adjusting shape, clinging to all as they spread out, ghosting forward towards the light, before Keladry stopped again, peering up at a tall pine, setting down one quiver and adjusting the other on her shoulder before setting the bow against her foot and stringing it. Her five remaining guards formed a semicircle around them. She was about to put it over the other shoulder when Master Numair spoke.

"I can lift you, Kel."

"Good. I'm still going to …" Her gaze raked him and Sam. "Can you lift Saman too?"

"Yes." Abruptly, a globe of black magic the size of a marble floated by Master Numair's ear, another by Keladry's mouth. "Speaking-spell."

"Right. Saman, I'm going to have to step out on a branch to fire, so I won't be able to take a proper stance and won't have either hand free. Stand behind me, jam your dagger in the bole, hang on tight with one hand, and hold my belt with the other?"

Sam nodded, white-faced, and magic flooded from Master Numair, lifting him and Keladry swiftly up the line of the bole. The mage was peering upwards, and from the ball of magic by his ear Taren and the two healers could hear Keladry's directions, left, right, as they avoided boughs, and then forward, up and left a little, down, alright. After a few seconds there was a muttered curse that made Master Numair and both healers grimace, a swift order to Sam to hold tight, and after a few more an astonishing golden note that could only be the Godbow's song. The ordinary twang of other bowstrings followed immediately as an inhuman scream tore at the air, and the soldiers and ogres were gone, sprinting forward out of sight, with hounds following.

"Down, please, Numair."

The mage complied, again responding to directions and ignoring the muffled sounds of timber splintering, men and ogres shouting, steel clashing, and the beat of heavy wings until Keladry and a shaking Sam had their feet on the ground again. The balls of magic vanished, and Taren embraced his brother.

"Alright, Sam?"

"Y-yes. He was … he …"

"He was about to sacrifice a girl." Keladry's voice was dead level, going through Taren like a lazy wind, and her face was white with rage as she picked up the second quiver. "Attempting death magic, I think. Shakes afterwards, Saman, when it doesn't matter. Come on."

Taren pulled Sam after him, following Keladry and Master Numair forward with guards flanking them, and blinked as he came into sunlight. The gate in the palisade hung drunkenly from one hinge, and a section of fifteen or twenty feet had been thrown down stormwings perched along what remained, intent on what was within. From the corner of his eye Taren saw the Daine-raven glide to land on Master Numair's shoulder and receive his caress, but his eyes were torn away for just inside the gate were the first casualties of combat he had ever seen, the man who had been on watch there lying with an arrow through his eye, arms flung wide, and two who must have come to his aid, blood and brains leaking from heads crushed by sledgehammers. The six ogres detailed to grab the children were beyond them, each holding a girl very gently, crooning one was naked, glassy-eyed in shock and shivering violently, the ogre rocking her looking at once furious and helplessly sad.

"Morri, Toric, do what you can."

The healers moved in, and as Taren edged past the group of ogres the view opened up. Half-a-dozen bodies lay scattered, all thieves, and on the far side, by the shallow cave, the mass of soldiers, Guards, and ogres surrounded eight huddled prisoners, some moaning in pain, two unconscious, others blank-faced with shock. All were staring at the inner angle, where the three hounds faced something, growling with hackles raised and ears flat. Keladry and Master Numair headed straight over, Keladry nocking a second arrow with swift ease as black fire gathered around the mage's hands.

"All gods! What _is_ that?"

 _Nothing we have ever seen before, Protector, but there are souls and magic and Chaos._

Seeing for himself, Taren felt bile rise and swallowed hard. Two bodies, both face-down, were impaled by a single arrow, a man in rough tunic and leggings over a robed figure, and he realised Keladry had shot the shaman through a soldier standing behind him. A bone knife worked with runes lay beyond them, white against dark rock. But the real horror was beneath both bodies, a giant, roughly human shape of clay and earth that reeked of blood and shimmered with ugly brown magic streaked with dark red. It was moving, torso and legs juddering and the fingers flexing, clawing at the ground. Master Numair, looking as sick as Taren felt, carefully extended magic towards the thing for a moment, not letting any touch it, then knelt, peering.

"I'm only guessing, Kel, but you were right about death magic. And blood magic. His rite must have been nearly complete, and the arrow went right through them both and is sticking into that thing, so I think it's caught both their souls."

"How many souls, Wuodan?"

 _At least three, Protector. Maybe four. The shaman was Chaos-tainted, and that has joined them in there._

"Four? Then there are innocents in there, too." Keladry slipped the arrow she had nocked back into the quiver on her back, and sank to her knees, arms wide, though her right hand still held the Godbow, and head tilted up to the sky. "High One, Lord of the Peaceful Realm, by the face you do not show I beg your help now. Claim these souls, innocent and guilty, for your judges, and cleanse this place of Chaos. We came with all speed, but this we cannot do. Hear my prayer."

For a moment there was an utter silence, burning in Taren's ears, and wind soughed through it, speaking words that rang in his head.

 _Heard and granted, daughter. The children will have my special care. Cup your hands, and pour._

Keladry rose smoothly, slinging the bow over her shoulder to cup her hands, and Taren saw tears on her cheeks as glittering silver filled their bowl. Carefully she moved forwards, Wuodan stepping aside, to lean over the writhing figure and the bodies impaled on it, letting the silver fall on all, more and more of it, spreading out to coat the figure from head to toe, stilling fingers as it reached them. When her hands were empty Keladry stepped back, and the glittering silver darkened before flaring brightly, making Taren blink as his eyes watered and vision swam. When he could see again there was only a still clay figure and two flaccid bodies, but the arrow that had transfixed them was in Keladry's hand, unbroken and clean of blood. She stared down at it for a moment before murmuring a prayer of thanks, swinging a quiver off one shoulder, and carefully putting the arrow away. Master Numair, his face grey, reached a hand to her shoulder.

"Thank you, Kel, most sincerely. And from Daine. I don't believe I've ever seen anything worse."

Her voice remained as flat as slate. "Thank the Black God, Numair. And pray for Dabeyoun to eat that shaman's soul. Blayce without Genlith's metal, and Chaos-touched as well." Her voice rose into the sky, edged with rage. "Lord Mithros, I know you have much to do but surely nothing can be more urgent. Clear these Chaos remnants. Please. Uusoae remains in her cage and cannot interfere. _Deal with it!_ "

The _please_ felt forced, but Keladry stared at the sky, cheeks still wet, and another noise came, the ringing clash of arms, a distant fury of battle echoing from the cliffs and dying away. Silence returned, broken only by ragged breathing Taren slowly realised was his own.

 _You have our thanks also, Protector. This was a great wrong._ Wuodan's mindvoice became somehow sly. _And I cannot remember when Mithros last acknowledged such a commanding rebuke from a mortal._

"Will he do it, though?"

All three hounds shrugged, and Wuodan cocked his head a little.

 _Probably. The Black God will surely have things to say to him._

"Yes, that. Cerus, were you guided to that woman?"

A third mindvoice replied, and Taren thought of a baritone, where Wuodan was a bass.

 _I cannot affirm it, Protector, but it may be so. I travelled that way on a whim, and her desperation caught my curiosity. You think the Black God wanted you here?_

"I do, Cerus. That accursed shaman didn't want _me here_ , only new victims, but someone did. Go figure. Numair, please search these bodies and destroy that … thing. And the knife. We need to find the victims."

Keladry turned, stalking across towards the prisoners, those who were conscious white and staring, while the soldiers bowed deeply to her, Guards with hands over hearts, and ogres raised hammers in salute. Taren and Sam followed, minds churning. He had just worked out that she meant the bodies the third and perhaps fourth souls had inhabited when she reached down to haul a shivering prisoner to his feet. Her voice was a blade.

"How many girls were sacrificed into that thing?"

"T-t-two. Spare me."

"No. Where did you bury them?"

"Meadow. Beside the path."

An arm gestured vaguely, and she dropped the man.

"Ebony, report to Button. Someone take that poor girl her clothes. Guards and Stone Mountain squad, gather the saddles and tack, and go get their horses. Take them straight down to the main valley. One of each squad and kind with me as witnesses. Everyone else, search this place and the bodies. Prisoners too. Papers, valuables, food, anything that tells us about them. And let's have the rest of that palisade down."

Keladry swung, heading for the gate, and Taren and Sam followed. She stopped by the healers and ogres with the rescued girls, the one who had been naked just having a shabby dress settled over her head.

"Find out if there's anything here they want, and take them down to the main valley. And hear me, all you girls. That shaman is very dead, and the Black God's judges will not be kind to him. The god has the souls of the sacrificed safely, and will care for them. Can any of you tell me their names? Who was killed here? I go to bless their graves."

Even though it was still flat with rage, care and kindness were in her voice too, and though all the girls were shocked and shivering a quavering voice answered.

"Renna was first, Braka second. You saved Vorinna today. I would have been next. We will come with you."

Keladry stared, then nodded. "Right. And you are?"

"Fréawaru."

"Well-named, then. Ogres, carry Fréawaru and her friends, please."

By the gate she stopped again, looking up at Queen Barzha. "You can have the bodies if you want them."

"We are well fed, Protector, and they are too tainted even for us. Let the ravens feed, or burn them. We too will come to honour the graves."

Keladry simply nodded, and marched on, Taren, Sam, and ogres carrying girls in her wake, with the witnesses she wanted, while the stormwings took off to circle overhead. She took the path south-west, heading up the hanging valley, which after some curves began to descend and brought them into a meadow where nervous horses were gathered on the far side, by the tributary stream. Keladry stared for a moment.

"Lord Arawn, if you hear me, might you calm them so my men can saddle and lead them? I will see they are properly looked after."

She didn't wait for any reply but followed the faint path, worn by human feet, across the meadow for fifty yards, halting where the ground showed raw earth heaped in two small mounds. The stormwings glided to their awkward landings, gathering round the graves, and Keladry removed bow and quivers from her shoulders, setting both behind her, before gesturing the ogres to come forward. Taren and Sam edged back, and Keladry raised her arms, as she had before.

"High One, I cannot say Renna and Braka died in my service, and you have promised their souls your special care. Yet I would not leave their bodies unshriven and unmarked, and these who knew them bear all sorrow for them. I pray Mother Universe and Father Flame may share and ease your burden, and ask your grace."

Wind again soughed through silence, and Keladry held her hands above the graves. A drop of silver fell from each, spreading to shimmer over heaped soil, and raw earth was covered with tiny white flowers so thickly matted they blazed in the sunlight. Keladry knelt, and Taren followed her lead without conscious decision, Sam too, and all ogres and soldiers, as stormwings bowed heads.

"Thank you for your graces, High Ones. Rest in peace, Renna and Braka. May your graves ever be honoured. So mote it be."

Even ogres and stormwings echoed her, and chimes sounded, gentle and sweet. The carpet of flowers gleamed, horses nickered gladly somewhere behind Taren, and Keladry rolled her head

"Is there aught you would say, Your Majesty, before we leave them to their rest?"

Queen Barzha bated. "No, Protector. You say all that is needed, and they know we honour them as innocents. The flowers are Sakuyo's gift?"

"They are, and will bloom always." Tears still glistened on Keladry's cheeks. "But if we're done here, let's clean up and go home. I want to see Dom, and my children."


	50. Chapter 51

Chapter 7: Chapter Six - New Arrivals Chapter Text

 **Six : New Arrivals**

 _New Hope, 16 May – 19 June 464 HE_

THE remaining weeks of May were a different kind of education for Taren, Sam, and latterly Var, in thorough dealing with consequences. Keladry's driving purpose had not ended with the girls' rescue, and if the return to Dragonstown was less frantic than the journey out, it was still swift. Save for Captain Brodhelm's squads, who used the deer-trail over the saddle, heading back to regular duty, they followed the valley south to collect the illegal settlers, already in the charge of Captain Mikal's men. Taren and Sam would long remember the tearful relief of parents reunited with daughters, mixed with disgusted anger at the rapes they had endured, and a desperate fear of what would now happen to them that grew from lies they had been told about New Hope and immortals. Keladry's patience in dealing with fears surprised them both, until she told them about dealing with refugees from Tirrsmont sold similar lies and return of their stolen daughters helped in more than one way.

All the rescued girls had become attached not only to Keladry but to the ogres who'd cradled them, and astonishingly to the stormwings. At their first bivouac Vorinna had woken them threshing and crying in a nightmare, and Barzha with other stormwings had been there as swiftly as Keladry, crooning notes that slowly eased the girl back into peaceful sleep. Tired as Taren and Sam were, the sounds Vorinna made had not let them sleep again so quickly, nor Keladry, and they had spoken for a while, round the campfire, of what stormwings did.

"They feed on emotions, and read them in mortals. And just as they can terrify, squeezing someone's mind to force them to speech, so they can soothe. To do so is partly why they attend the funerals of innocents, but that's a mild version, stroking sorrow, and they hadn't thought about applying it more directly."

"You said they help children who have nightmares from the war?"

"They do, Taren. I've heard them at hatchings, crooning love and encouragement, so I asked Barzha, and we found what she's decided to call unterrorising worked just as well as terrorising. It's good for them, too, because it's another skill they can contribute. Duke Baird is coming to the nameday partly to talk to them about it, and see if we can't get it used as a healing technique elsewhere. It's not a cure — everyone has to live with memories, good and bad — but it's a help. As you have seen."

Taren half-wanted to ask if she used it herself, but forbore, and thinking of those bereaved in accidents, or who had been trapped underground, as well as of his mother and aunt, he sought out Queen Barzha to ask if a flock of stormwings might wish to roost at Stone Mountain, and what he would need to do. She was pleased by the enquiry, for it seemed many stormwings wanted to take advantage of the eggwifery offered at New Hope, and while she had no objection neither she nor Keladry wanted other flocks in long-term residence. A second place in the Mortal Realm offering care in return for cleanliness and such services as terrorising and unterrorising was thus welcome, and the only thing needed a standing invitation to feed when strong emotions were generated. Queen Barzha's voice had been mellow and reflective in the darkness, as adult stormwings taught younglings the way of soothing, and Vorinna lay peacefully asleep.

"We were used to believing we needed the bright agonies of combat, and the strong satisfactions of besmirching the fallen, but if they remain welcome they are not as necessary as we had come to think after our confinement to the Divine Realms. The stream of new arrivals at New Hope, all spiky with wondering astonishment, offers a fine diet, and around the Protector there are often satisfying meals to be had." Steel teeth had glinted in firelight. "From what you say of Stone Mountain, the relief of those who survive another day underground would have some value, the Guild will stir things up nicely, and if the flock was truly hungry they could always pay your uncle a visit."

Taren had swallowed a shocked laugh, agreeing in a strangled voice that Uncle Henchard had strong emotions enough for any number of stormwings to dine on, and when he mentioned the conversation to Keladry she invited him to talks with some queens visiting at Samradh. He and Sam had fun imagining the reactions of many at Stone Mountain to resident stormwings, including their father.

Vorinna, Fréawaru, and Hilde, though, posed more questions than their well-being, when Keladry drew their stories from them. They and the dead Renna and Braka were, or had been, of Clan Beorhtscyld, all motherless orphans whose fathers had died at New Hope. They'd been taken in by Clanchief Leofsson as scullery maids and general servants, getting by until the shaman had come, late last year. What had happened they knew only from rumours and glimpses, but they believed Leofsson and many others to be dead, and certainly the surviving loyalists had taken over — men left behind when Maggur's army marched south either because they had been injured or as a guard that sounded more like an occupying force for the Clanhome. All had been very angry at news of utter defeat, the freeing of Maggur's hostages, and the terms of the Peace Treaty, with recognition of Clanchief Hléoburh, so there had been harsh words when Leofsson and the survivors of the siege had returned, but until the shaman came the Clanchief had prevailed. Once the loyalists took charge, however, the orphans had been forced, and largely confined to slave quarters, so all they knew of what had happened over the winter were rumours of dark magic and people dying. With the thaw there had been a falling-out among loyalists, leading to the departure of the shaman with twenty-two men — four badly injured and subsequently dying the five girls had been dragged along, as servants and whores, they had thought, until the shaman had completed shaping the figure and killing began. Once Keladry had also spoken to the prisoners, still too shocked to defy her, she used a pocket spellmirror to contact Jorvik Hamrsson and Ragnar Ragnarsson, well on their way to Clan Beorhtscyld, and relayed what she knew.

"I'll question the prisoners properly in Dragonstown, Jorvik, but they confirm that Vannar Leofsson and his family were killed last November, by the shaman with support from disgruntled loyalists, and name the shaman as Unferth, a bastard nephew or cousin of Inar Hadensra. Numair says that's where the Chaos-taint will have come from, as Inar had direct dealings with Ozorne. Unferth also spoke of supplying Blayce with giants' bones, and whether that's true or just a boast he was certainly trying to make a clay version of a killing device, and apparently thought multiple souls bound to it with blood magic would make it unstoppable, which suggests he'd met Gissa. Demanding to kill children got him kicked out of Beorhtscyld, with those who supported him, which I suppose is a mercy, but as they let him take five girls whose fathers died at New Hope not much of one. In any case, wherever he's been for the last decade he will have done lasting harm."

Neither Clanchief had ever met Unferth, but Jorvik knew the name, and Keladry received grimly angry assurances that loyalists still at Beorhtscyld would be dealt with and the shaman backtracked. The conversation ended with her dry recommendation to pray to Lord Mithros to aid them in scouring away any effects of Chaos.

The three girls taken from the illegal settlers had been replacements for the dead, though it seemed several of the men who'd seized them had recognised them as cast-out Beorhtscyldings, and thought it providential they had been there to be taken in need. Keladry's smile at that was sharp enough to cut, and Taren had thought of her words about divine irony, and her firm belief that she had not been wrong to think the girls' abduction a form of bait, only about who was laying it, wondering what amusement the Black God might find in a providence the soldiers had sensed but utterly misunderstood. Sam's account of what he had seen from the pine played in, for Unferth had had his knife raised when Keladry killed him, so every moment of haste to get there had been necessary, and having seen the clay figure writhing with trapped souls and Chaos Taren and Sam knew exactly why the Black God had driven her. Relied on her, even, as Sam pointed out, with other gods' powers in the mix as well — Lord Weiryn's bow and arrow-rest, enabling the down-fletched arrow to be used, and Lord Sakuyo's gift of flowers, though Taren thought that had been as much to comfort Keladry as to ease the dead girls' spirits.

If so, it had not lessened her rage, and there was a hard edge in much that she did. The fears of the illegal settlers might need patiently to be allayed, but they would come to Dragonstown regardless, with all speed nor did such fears excuse a decision not to seek proper food and shelter for their children, as, whatever horror stories they might have been told, they knew that Scanran survivors of the siege had been fed and entertained at New Hope for nearly three months. There was no question of returning to Clan Beorhtscyld yet, their daughters needed continued healing, and in her lands they would obey her rules, so while yes, they might farm, and would be allowed land, it would be done properly, and their children would be schooled, as all would train. Several adults reacted with sullen muttering that did not stop until they reached Dragonstown, and sight of Drachifethe, with a thriving, more-than-half-Scanran population, shifted resentment towards awed intimidation.

Var greeted them with prolonged hugs that told Taren how alone she had felt, and listened with widening eyes to the tale they had to tell. Sam was shaken by a burst of sobbing as he spoke of staring from the tree, horror-struck, and Keladry's immediate shot, and they were all tearful before the end — but the tears were a purge, and they woke the next day feeling better in themselves, however distressed by events. Var's idea about Keladry's nursing was also borne out, for Domitan had brought the twins from the Citadel, and she was little seen for a day, spending far more time with them than nursing would demand. When she re-emerged the hard edge was softened in ordinary conversation, though it remained where the prisoners were concerned.

The whole, ghastly matter was laid out a few days later when Keladry held a public trial, presiding as Clanchief Hléoburh with Domitan by her side, on the bare slopes of the Tortallan bank with most of the town crowded round, or lining Drachifethe. At her request griffins came to ensure truth was spoken, and spellmirrors from the Bridgehouse enabled Jorvik Hamrsson and Ragnar Ragnarsson to attend from Beorhtscyld, now occupied by their troops, while others of the Council of Ten observed from Hamrkeng, and members of her Countess's Council from the Citadel. Wuodan, Frige, and Cerus were joined by more hounds, watching with interest, as stormwings did, and others came to observe, including a silent but intent Master Sternross.

The adults among the illegal settlers spoke first, plainly scared of the griffins, then their abducted daughters and the other three girls, just as plainly not. The rape and abuse they had suffered whitened faces all around, and their faltering descriptions of what the shaman had been trying to do, and how, produced a deep silence. Master Numair and Mistress Daine explained what they had seen, careful to distinguish fact from what they believed but could not attest to, and included clear accounts of what they had seen Keladry do, and heard the Black God say. Wuodan, Frige, and Cerus confirmed their perceptions of souls, magic, and Chaos-taint. Rumours had spread like wildfire since their return, but Keladry had said little to anyone, save presumably Domitan now, with the whole laid out, she rose to stand between the griffins, confirmed the speech of the Black God with the blessing of Lord Sakuyo's flowers on the graves, and swore it all by god's oath. When chimes reverberated over the water the light of Drachifethe pulsed brightly, and the crowd's silence was broken as many bowed and made the gods' sign themselves.

Last came the prisoners, and if stormwings did not have to compel them to speech, griffins forestalled many lies. None wanted to admit it, but all were forced to concede that Vannar Leofsson had been murdered, not duly challenged, and that they knew full well such treason, like rape and death magic, was a capital crime by their own laws. Keladry's relentless questioning exposed the power they had enjoyed as loyalists and revelled in as bullies, bitter resentment of defeat, the shaman's promises of women and a weapon none would be able to stop, complicity in murder, even expulsion of the settler families for no better reason than the shaman wanting their houses to work in — and beneath their political fervour, coils of lust and greed, with empty souls and consciences. Had not Maggur given the children of his own clan to Blayce, to bring Scanra glory? Why then should they not do as much for Unferth, who had the guts still to resist a shameful defeat?

When Keladry had heard enough, she stood to pass sentence, and her voice was terrible to hear, still flat with rage yet laced with pain.

"I told Maggur Reidarsson he had to die that children may live, and I tell you the same. For complicity in the murder of your oathsworn clanchief, Vannar Leofsson, with his family repeated rapes and murders of Renna Eriksdottir and Braka Haraldsdottir and repeated rapes of Vorinna Jensdottir, Fréawaru Gustavsdottir, Hilde Andersdottir, Koramir Larsdottir, Sharra Magnusdottir, and Mereleofa Svensdottir ; and for participation in death magic, your own deaths are the only possible sentence in first payment. And your bodies will not burn, to send you to the company of your forefathers, but be buried in unmarked graves, without tears or plea for the Black God's mercy."

She turned to the spellmirrors. "Do you need them alive in Beorhtscyld or Hamrkeng ere they die, Jorvik Hamrsson?"

"If you will allow it, Clanchief Hléoburh. There were other crimes here that need an accounting."

"Will you give me your word as leader of the Council of Ten that, sent to you to question as you will, all will be executed and buried as I have ordered before Mabon?"

"I will, and I do."

"They will be on their way tomorrow. Send your men to meet mine."

"I will. On behalf of the Council, and all Scanra, as well as for myself, I offer our warmest thanks for your service, Keladry Ilanesdottir, as Clanchief and Protector of the Small. We had barely begun to suspect something amiss at Beorhtscyld, yet you have already ended the worst of it. And once again the gods you called on answered you, swiftly and decisively, as you answered their call. Let all Scanra heed these things."

Scanrans in the crowd, and spellmirrors, bowed with hands over hearts, and Keladry inclined her head.

"Clanchief Hléoburh, your clan has borne trouble and expense in this, and risked blood. The fault is wholly of Clan Beorhtscyld, who banished into your lands both innocent and guilty, without informing you. What justice do you require of them, that their guilt be paid for?"

Keladry was silent for a moment. "I ask three things, Jorvik Hamrsson." Taren wondered about that 'ask' and Jorvik's 'require'. "First, if there are any of Clan Beorhtscyld who survived New Hope yet supported Unferth, I would speak with those ones ere they die."

Jorvik blinked. "Surely. Any such are forsworn."

"And I will know why. Second, that Clan Beorhtscyld acknowledge all six girls as no longer of their number, but of mine. All six desire it to be so, and I have granted their wish. Though not of age, Vorinna, Fréawaru, and Hilde have none to gainsay them, and if the fathers of Koramir, Sharra, and Mereleofa decide to return to Clan Beorhtscyld, they will do so without their daughters, by my decree."

This time Jorvik's eyes narrowed for a long moment, and he met the gaze of the Clanchiefs in the other mirror, then nodded.

"Yes. However it came about, their fathers lost them, and you found them. The families came wrongly to your lands yet concealed themselves, not asking leave, and still you answered them in their need. This decision is within your rights, and Clan Beorhtscyld shall acknowledge it."

"Just so. And third, I find I dislike slavery at Clan Beorhtscyld even more than I dislike it elsewhere, so there will in future be none. And as no slave is a member of any clan, all whom you and Ragnar find to have been slaves of Clan Beorhtscyld are clanless folk, and will have the choice of remaining so or of being accepted into either Clan Beorhtscyld or Clan Hléoburh."

Taren was surprised by Jorvik's sudden broad smile.

"Ah, there it is, rightly argued and cleverly done. A majority of the Council attend here. Will any gainsay Clanchief Hléoburh in this?" He gave it long enough for silence to burn. "Nor I. Your terms are accepted, Clanchief Hléoburh. Do you say that when they are met all guilt is done?"

"I do, Jorvik Hamrsson. I also say to all Scanra that Clan Beorhtscyld will have no third chance."

There was more silence before Jorvik nodded. "We hear you, Clanchief Hléoburh, and if Clan Beorhtscyld does not, they fall to you and none shall speak against it."

Keladry bowed to Jorvik before turning to face the crowd. "Does any being here, save only the condemned, question anything in this justice?"

Master Sternross did, voice sharp even in Scanran. "None should be so buried, Lady Keladry, whatever their crime. It is impious."

Keladry closed her eyes for a second. "So you may believe, Master Sternross, but I disagree, and so does the Black God. Infinite as his mercy is, I will commend to it none who wilfully slay children, and these condemned will meet his judges bearing my sentence. Does any other being have anything they would say before this ends?"

For a moment Taren thought Master Sternross was going to argue, but he was forestalled by Queen Barzha.

"Tell us when you are done with your questions, Jorvik Hamrsson, and they can die as Maggur Reidarsson died, beneath my wing."

Keladry gave the stormwing queen a strange look, then Jorvik a nod. He accepted the offer with a bow, and when no-one else had anything to say she declared proceedings over, gave Captain Mikal orders to despatch the prisoners north at first light, spoke briefly to the watching Clanchiefs before blanking the mirrors, and went to talk to Queen Barzha. Taren saw Master Sternross looking as if he wished to interrupt them, and went across.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Master Sternross. I saw what those men did, and were it my judgement I would allow them no rites either."

"Then you would be as impious as she is, my lord."

"Impious? Did you not listen? The Black God calls her _daughter_ , and I saw his grace pour from her hands. You confuse piety and propriety."

"I do not. What is improper cannot be pious."

"Nonsense. And you're still not listening, Master Sternross. She is as mortal as you and I, but silver poured from her hands to cleanse the world of a horror. The gods bless her, not you, and you call her impious?"

"None of this is right! This melding of blood magic and death magic, both accursed, comes of what Numair is so recklessly teaching. Magics melding and joining. It is obscene."

"You are wrong, Master Sternross." Var had listened silently throughout, but her voice now was as cold as Taren had ever heard. "And if you see no difference between attempting death magic, and the co-operation of basilisks and ogres to build fine roads, or of spidrens and mortals to make icelights, then you are truly a fool."

"The principle is the same!"

"More nonsense. And you will give my sister her dignities, Master Sternross, or beware. You are as uncivil as you are foolish."

"Yes, he is." Keladry stood behind the old mage, Domitan, Master Numair, his wife, and Wuodan with her, and her voice was hard with exasperation. "Second and last warning, Master Sternross. I am very nearly out of allowances for your age and what you think your piety. The gods prefer honesty, with oneself as with them. And I tell you flatly you do not understand the Black God at all, nor the nature of his mercy and justice. The one is indeed infinite, but he is not the brother of Lord Mithros for nothing. You have borne witness, as is your right. My justice is open to all in the three realms. Now go away, before I let Numair turn you into a tree. And if I were you, I'd beg the Black God's forgiveness for doubting him while you still can."

 _Seconded._

Wuodan followed his agreement with a loud growl, and Master Sternross fled, robes flapping, while Keladry gave the hound another of her looks, blandly returned — though how Wuodan did bland Taren wasn't at all sure.

 _Some mortals need more telling than others, Protector. And we live to serve._

"Of course you do. Would you like to go and give the City of the Gods the testimony of events in Yaman they want, and save poor Avinar ever so much trouble?"

Wuodan shuddered delicately, making Keladry smile, and for the first time in a while it reached her eyes.

 _Certainly not, Protector. Even our power has limits._

"Good to know, Wuodan. I must feed the twins, then I want food. Let's go."

The meal, again on the terrace of _The Smugglers' Rest_ , included all hounds present, though they had haunches to crack while mortals worked their way through good soup, venison, and fruit pudding. Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh were also there, perched on the railings, and as any remaining corners were filled from a cheeseboard, and Keladry spoke quietly with Chief Gella and her son, Taren, Sam, and Var found themselves listening to the Queen, her voice both admiring and ironic.

"You've been quite heroic in not asking, so I'll tell you. The Protector had us witness her execution of Rogal, so we know _exactly_ how much she hated having to do it, and why she felt she had to. She would order no mortal to do what she was reluctant to do herself, and it was the same with immortals in Yaman. She'd have chopped each of those traitors' silly heads off, vomiting the while, if Rainbow, Diamondflame, and Harist'aaniar'aan hadn't taken it on themselves. Touching, but silly. And while there seems to be very little she won't do at need, she's avoided appointing a headsman for New Hope, though one was always going to be called for sooner or later. So as sanctioned chopping of heads bothers stormwings not one whit, we thought we'd take it on, starting now."

Taren nodded, knowing Sam and Var heard what he did. "You act in love and justice, Your Majesty."

"I do, and we do, yes." Queen Barzha shook her head, eyes half-lidded. "Her wisdom rubs off on mortals, as on immortals and gods. Even on the Timeway, if Sakuyo and Diamondflame are to be believed, which they usually are. What's a poor stormwing queen to do?"

"Heal children, harm the deserving, and be glad of both?"

"More mortal wisdom. It's a wonder you can still walk, with heads grown so large. But it's past our roosting time. Sleep well, wise ones."

Both stormwings glided from the terrace railings to those of Drachifethe, where others already roosted, gleaming in the godlight, and Taren turned from watching them to find Keladry watching him.

"She told you of her offer, Taren?"

"She did, yes. It is … kindly meant."

"I know. And a great relief, frankly, as well as another feeding boost for them. The only problem is the title — I can hardly call Barzha a headsman, and headsstormwing is an awkward mouthful."

"Headswing?" Sam offered. "With a _swing as_ well as a _wing_."

"That might do, Saman." Keladry smiled. "I like it, and I'll ask Barzha. Mostly, though, I hope we have no need of any executioner for a long time. And no more holdovers from the war."

"No indeed." Taren hesitated, but went on. "May I ask about the echoes of New Hope Mistress Daine mentioned? Sam and I have been trying to explain what we saw to Var, and that has us all confused."

"I can try, though I'm none too sure myself." Keladry sat back in her chair, and Taren realised everyone was listening. "Daine noticed two things, that the palisade against that step in the cliff resembled the way New Hope is built against cliffs and fin, and that I was again going to use the Godbow from on high. It might be only coincidence. Height always gives range and angle, and it's common sense to use a natural feature if you can. Or one of the loyalists might have known enough of New Hope to try an imitation. But Unferth was also imitating Blayce, who also raped as well as murdered children, and that's one too many alsos for me. It's probably an echo in the Timeway — just a little one, gods be thanked, an ugly little eddy spun off the roil. What I don't know about at all is the Chaos, though. Chaos-taint makes beings act against their natures, so Unferth probably started off liking children, and it will have played a part in making loyalists accept the murder of a clanchief. But then again, the tauroses were Chaos-tainted, and so were some giants at the siege, so it might all be another part of the echo pattern."

"From what Tar and Sam tell me, the journey was a mirror of your mission to Rathhausak — up the Smiskir Valley, but then west not east."

"Quite right, Varia. And a strange prompt from beyond the Mortal Realm each time. It's what had me jumpy to begin with, and partly why I took such force."

"Why else?"

Keladry shrugged, and Domitan covered her hand with his.

"There might have been many more of them then there were, Taren, and outnumbering the enemy is always better for safety as well as victory. Overwhelming strength meant Kel took no casualties."

"Just as you took so many weapons because you didn't know which would be needed?"

She nodded. "Yes. You can't use what you've left at home, though my desire to fight with _katana_ and _ko-wazikashi_ is nil. And the Godbow likes to be used, not kept sitting around waiting for special occasions, so I try, though hunting with it always feels like cheating."

"Only you, Kel." Mistress Daine was amused. "No bad shots to leave a creature suffering isn't cheating. And nobody says I can't enter archery competitions using mine. But Numair and I agree about a nasty little eddy in the Timeway, and death magic would have drawn the gods' attention fast enough."

"Not for Renna or Braka, Daine."

"No. Kitten's very sorry to have missed you scolding Lord Mithros about that. And it sounds as if it might actually do some good this time."

"You've scolded him before?"

Var was incredulous, though Taren and Sam weren't so surprised. Keladry waved a hand, Domitan rolled eyes, and Mistress Daine laughed.

"Several times now, Varia. Once about tauroses having no mates, which he took to heart, then about letting my Da and Ma visit more often, which Kel wrangled somehow despite the rules, bless her. But this time was different because he wasn't even there, but acknowledged it. And Kitten's interested because she had a go herself, once, and is still annoyed he didn't listen properly."

"She does now agree that not all gods are always annoying, Magelet. It's progress."

"True." Mistress Daine grinned at her husband. "And it's not just Lord Sakuyo for saving her life. She thinks the Black God was fair useful this time. But you know, Kel, if Mithros does do something about any remaining Chaos-taint, you'll actually be three for three with scolding him, and I doubt there's many can say that."

 _Only the Great Goddess, Godborn. The Protector offers solutions when she takes him to task, so accepting them is easier than arguing with her._

Keladry's eyes narrowed. "With the tauroses, maybe, Wuodan. Sort of, anyway. But letting Lord Weiryn visit Drachifethe was barracks lawyering, and I have no solution to Chaos-taint."

 _He liked the lawyering, and you have thrice dealt with Chaos-taint yourself. In Yaman, too, your plea was not for him to do anything himself, only for his let that you and others might act. Who can wonder that he likes you?_

Keladry just rolled her eyes, but many were grinning around the table, and Chief Gella cackled.

"Barracks lawyering with the gods, Lady Kel? I don't recall hearing about that one. Do tell."

"No. Ask Daine and Numair, if you must."

"We only know what you told us, Kel, and what Da said Mithros said."

"So? We've already had quite enough gossiping about Lord Mithros, and I — did you need me, Kora?"

The woman who'd welcomed them to _The Smugglers' Rest_ on their first night in Dragonstown — which seemed a lot longer than ten days before — gave a curtsey.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Lady Kel, but there's a couple from Somalkt who ask if they might speak with you. Pilgrims. They've come in to eat a few times over the last week, and been no trouble, so I said I'd ask."

"No problem, Kora. Bring them along, please."

Guthlaf Eriksson and Marga Bjornsdottir were well-dressed, in later middle age, and nervous to be in such company, offering many bows, hands over hearts, but also piously determined.

"Our Clanchief Ragnar Ragnarsson has spoken much of New Hope and Drachifethe, Clanchief Hléoburh, and seeks to restore piety in our wartorn land, so we came as pilgrims. We have found all as he said, the weight and light of the gods in everything, easing our hearts. And then today, hearing of great evils and more divine blessings in their cleansing, we are moved to offer service."

The man paused for breath.

"That is well, Guthlaf Eriksson. How would you serve?"

"You said you had not been able to mark the graves of Renna Eriksdottir and Braka Haraldsdottir with their names, so we offer to do so as we return to Somalkt. I am a mason, so I can carve headstones myself, if you will tell me what you wish for this new place of pilgrimage. And our horses can bear them, if we walk, but we would need a guide, and if they are willing would be glad to speak with those once of Clan Beorhtscyld who knew the dead, and can tell us of their lives, that we may honour them in knowledge, not in ignorance."

Keladry stared, then nodded. "You speak well, Guthlaf Eriksson, and your offer is accepted, in all honour. The headstones should be simple. Austere, even. Do not compete with Lord Sakuyo's grace of flowers, just the girls' names and dates, and … yes, _Victims of Clan Beorhtscyld, killed by their own._ Let that clan's shame be known. Come to the Bridgehouse tomorrow, and I'll arrange for you to talk to Vorinna, Fréawaru, and Hilde, if they are willing, and see about a guide."

 _We will guide them, Protector, and guard their steps._

"Thank you, Wuodan. That would be good."

Taren wasn't sure the couple would quite say that, but they weren't going to refuse, and after they'd been ushered out again by a smiling Kora, Keladry propped her chin on her hands and sighed.

"What's the problem, Kel? That was unexpected but felt right to me."

"To me too, Daine. But _new place of pilgrimage_? And he's right. I prayed that those graves be ever honoured, which was right too but means I now need yet another Pilgrims' Way and a set of inns and wayhouses. So tell me, what _kanji_ would you put in a teahouse up there?"

There was a long silence.

"Exactly. I'm going to bed."

Back at the Citadel Taren, Sam, and Var found themselves idly, or not so idly, playing the teahouse-words game for one at Stone Mountain. Sam suggested _pride, fall_ , _lesson_ , and Var several variations on _stone_ , _fire_ , _gift_ , _song_ , and _mathematics_. Taren's thoughts tended to be darker, and he didn't mention _eldest_ , _blondest_ , _deadest_ , but did amuse his siblings with _Skysong_ , _talkative_ , _insatiable_. The dragonet did indeed regret missing Lord Mithros being scolded, and wanted his and Sam's accounts of it. It wasn't a request he found he relished honouring, centred on such horror, but even a small dragon was not to be denied, and they received treasure in return — a closely detailed account of events in Yaman, from a very peculiar perspective.

Much of it concerned Lady Skysong's experiences of being targeted by an assassin and having to kill, the distress both had caused, and the sensible advice her grandsire, basilisks, and Keladry had given her about dealing with it, with the Wild Hunt only a necessary interlude between crime and punishment. Having no such experiences himself Taren felt unable to do anything save listen, but thought she had dealt with events well, especially as she was a few months younger than Var he also found himself in unexpected agreement with the Horse God about her feeling better when the possibility of having to kill again retreated, telling Lady Skysong of his own relief when he'd banished his uncle and could relax in his own house, but was deeply astonished to learn Lady Fujiwara had asked for forgiveness _after_ her death.

"I thought the dead were not allowed speech with the living, my lady."

 _Grandsire said they are not, in the Mortal Realm, but the rule only applies once they have left it. Her soul was still here, so she could, and I told her to tell the Black God I forgave her alone, and to ask him to tell the man I killed that I regretted the necessity. I do not believe she would have failed to do so, but it is annoying not to be able to check._

"You said the Graveyard Hag was there?"

 _Yes, with Dabeyoun._ Lady Skysong's mindvoice became disgruntled. _She said it was all very touching, and enough was enough. Kel says she isn't as horrid as she once thought, but she is_ always _annoying, as far as I can tell._

"Ah." Taren felt his head spin, not only with draconic pronouns. "Well, I'm sure she would have told her father all that was done and said, and he might have been watching himself, you know. I'd think most gods were."

 _Oh. Yes, I suppose so. But I still find not_ knowing _annoying._

"Many things are. We just have to live with it."

 _And that is annoying too. But I think you are right that the Black God was listening, and Ebony would know. I should have thought of that. I will go and ask._

The dragonet bounced out, and the siblings went by mutual consent to the shrines to be thankful to the Black God for his more recent grace. It was not as if any of them had been in real danger, but both Taren and Sam remained heartsick at what they had seen, and all of them were haunted by the evil that had been done, and the manner of it. The Black God seemed to help, as did sight of the rescued girls recovering, if not blossoming. Keladry had brought all the illegal settlers to the Citadel, mostly because the girls needed healers and stormwings available there, partly because their families still half-wanted to return to Clan Beorhtscyld, where Jorvik Hamrsson and Ragnar Ragnarsson were overseeing a thorough clear-up. There was, Taren saw, a calculated exposure to truths and wonders that worked just as well as sight of Drachifethe. Vorinna, Fréawaru, and Hilde had come south too, and been formally accepted into Clan Hléoburh all were still deeply distressed, but the combination of healers and stormwings, prayers to the Black God and Lord Gainel, and Keladry's practical kindness was working wonders of its own. She housed them with New Hopers of their own age who knew much of enduring horror, and he had seen Miss Loesia and others speaking both gently and fiercely to them, and a youngster called Meech, just turned eight, gravely offer and receive hugs.

Mrs Spinner told them something of Meech's story, adding that the tale of his balding his doll so Lady Kel could track him, and her replacing it, was a great favourite with all the Protector's Maids. It was shown in one of the panels also, but Taren had not quite imagined from that the brutal reality of a five-year-old so abducted, nor understood the nature of Meech's sacrifice and his faith that Keladry would come for her refugees, and need a trail to follow. It might have left him as melancholy as impressed, but Mrs Spinner was a happy woman, having completed her tasks of properly clothing Domitan, Tobeis, and Irnai, and Var persuaded Irnai, easily enough, and Tobeis, more reluctantly, into showing off some of their new wardrobes. For everyday wear, quality materials and excellent tailoring were combined with sturdy practicality, meaning reinforced seats and knees, and plentiful pockets and for the festival and formal wear Mrs Weaver had outdone herself in designs Mrs Spinner had executed — a new set of Kmiri leggings and tunic for Irnai, with three dresses that had Var narrowing eyes and making notes, and four New Hope tunics for Tobeis in striking colours and cuts. Domitan did not offer to model his new garments, but Keladry expressed a wry satisfaction that he now had more than one good tunic and one Yamani robe to choose from when dressing up was called for.

And it was increasingly called for. With June guests began to arrive, a trickle becoming a stream, and the informal eating in the messhall Keladry preferred was replaced by dinners in the great reception room. Two of her sisters were first to arrive, Lady Adalia with her husband, Merovec of Nond, and Lady Oranie with hers, Ortien of Hannalof, each with a variety of children delighted to be back at New Hope, who to Taren's mild bemusement seemed to take its many wonders largely for granted. The same could not be said of their parents, Merovec especially having a deferential wariness towards Keladry and all immortals that Taren thought they politely bore with but were exasperated by. Merovec was also wary of him, though not Sam or Var, suggesting power rather than rank or kind as the cause, and after thinking about it Taren decided that for all the oppressions of Stone Mountain he was glad not to have been raised in a household ruled by Nond.

Ortien and Merovec brought several Nond and Hannalof connections who were to help establish Guild branches, and on the road had fallen in with others coming from Richcaffery, Teresian, and elsewhere. Keladry had set aside a barracks for all who needed that training, and though welcoming them warmly turned them over without compunction to Master Valestone for legalities and finances, and to various immortals for explanations of what they would and wouldn't do, with production of basilisk glass, icelights, hoick'ems, and Master Geraint's architectural and building services. They would be staying longer than the Nameday guests, and Keladry would, she promised, be able to give them more time once Samradh was past — a simple truth, as all could see how busy she was, and for Taren an opportunity as he made time to sit with them, individually and collectively, introducing Sam and Var and making connections for Stone Mountain. Erde of Hannalof knew Svein, and had heard good things about changes Taren had made, while all were pleased to make connections of their own with a ruling lord, however new and young, and once or twice he caught Keladry looking at him with ironic approval. Some who were unmarried were distinctly attentive to Var, and while she had no romantic regard for any of them, and made that politely clear, Taren began to realise she was thought a very eligible match despite her unusual interests.

Those came to the fore one evening, after the arrival of Keladry's parents and eldest brothers, Sir Anders and Sir Inness, all very taken with the giant greenhouse, where orange and lemon saplings, with other southern plants, were thriving, and wondering where one might be built at Mindelan. Merovec's comment that it seemed an expensive indulgence led to discussion of the value and costs of shipping citrus and other fruits, but Var turned the conversation by saying that the new geometry was just as important, and backed it up with suggested applications. More buildings than greenhouses could use domes, and the maths worked for curved walls as well as spheres, but it was the idea of more accurate large-scale maps, with Var's brisk demonstration of why a landscape curved on all axes could not accurately be plotted on paper, that sat several people up. For journeys by land it didn't matter so much, but more accurate positioning at sea was potentially critical, even if knowing how far east or west you were remained a real navigational problem.

Taren also watched Keladry's interactions with her family with sharpening interest. She had clearly been pleased to see Ladies Oranie and Adalia, and at ease with them, but with her brothers, especially Sir Anders, there was a deeper warmth, and when it came to her parents Taren acknowledged his envy. Their Graces of Mindelan were kind, strong, loving, and forthright, and though they could make her both blush and glower Keladry clearly found their approval a boon, and more. Her account of recent events to her sisters and their husbands had been minimal, and they had not pushed, but Their Graces drew a fuller version from her, however she tried to refer them to the record of the trial. With some older nephews and nieces present she didn't dwell on horrors, but facts were there, and gods, with a complexity of attitude.

"You told Lord Mithros to _deal with it?_ "

His Grace's voice was faint.

"I did, Papa, and I'm not repining. I don't mind the Black God calling on me, and all gods know those poor girls needed someone, but the only reason Lord Mithros would accept a mortal rebuke is because he knows it well-deserved. Oh, you could argue that as an eddy of the Timeway, spun off what happened here and at Rathhausak, it's right that it fell to me, and that His Nibs was helpful — Lords Weiryn and Arawn too — but it's still true that if Lord Mithros had pulled his divine finger out ten years ago, and dealt with Uusoae's taint, as every other god I've spoken to about it agrees he should have, many things might be very different. And yes, however little I like it I can see that what happened to me might have been necessary somehow — if I hadn't had the Black God's forgiveness I couldn't have used the killing field and dragonfire as I did. But I am still heartsick of dealing with the consequences of his inaction, which has left a lot of people hideously dead or needing all the care they can get. And I don't just mean this time round — those tauroses killed more than a dozen, besides me, seventeen died in the giants' attack, more from the trebuchet, which couldn't have been worked without them, and who knows how many elsewhere? Now this. And whether Clan Beorhtscyld will survive is far from clear — Jorvik and Ragnar are trying, but there'll be more than my eight executions although the last thing Scanra needs is more losses."

"That's true enough, my dear." His Grace sighed. "And I do hear you, however I cannot think it wise to speak so to Lord Mithros."

"It probably isn't, Papa, but that doesn't make it wrong."

"No. Still, Lord Sakuyo is one thing, Lord Mithros another."

Keladry waved a hand. "He doesn't mind plain speaking, Papa." She shook her head ruefully. "I realise I can't say Chaos is purely divine business, mortals being half-chaos, but I can't help feeling that if Uusoae's crime was bad enough to get her locked up by Father Universe and Mother Flame, in a cage of dead matter and starfire, no less, then _I_ shouldn't have to be dealing with everything she tainted along her way."

"Sweeting!" Her Grace's hand went to her mouth. "When you put it like that, it's hard to argue. But you _did_ deal with it, and very well. Do count the rescued, as well as the lost."

"I do, Mama. And we've gone from tainted tauroses to tainted giants to a tainted shaman, so I suppose we're headed in the right direction. Roll on the tainted giftless, and then what? Perhaps I can work through to tainted mosquitoes in a decade or two."

Mistress Daine's laugh was welcome.

"Uusoae didn't bother with the People, Kel, and if any mosquitoes managed a bite they're long gone by now. Having met her, I can only hope lots did." Master Numair stifled a snort, and Keladry smiled, though others looked bewildered. "And I wouldn't worry, Piers. Kel said no more than many have. Da's been muttering about it for years, and he's not the only one."

"Even so, Daine. Lord Weiryn has a brother's privilege."

"Make that a brother's right, Da." Sir Anders gave Keladry a grin. "And say that Kel has a hard-earned privilege. But have you thought, little sister, that if _not_ cleaning up before was somehow necessary, this was equally so, however unfathomable?"

"I have, Anders, but I can't see why it should be. What did anyone get out of it, except loss?" Keladry shrugged. "The only thing that makes the slightest sense is to file it under the Timeway. Yaman was a big eddy, and this was a small one. They say bad things come in threes, so perhaps eddies do too, but I can only try to be prepared, and it would be nice, for once, to know what I had to prepare for."

"Let's stick to the Nameday, sweeting, and all your guests."

Conversation broadened, and Taren saw relief on several faces, including Merovec's and Ortien's, though a wariness of Keladry remained. Her sisters were less bothered but still glad to move on, while her brothers (with Domitan and Tobeis) were far more clearly concerned _for_ her. He, Sam, and Var had been forced into close alliance, and without that pressure — perhaps inevitably, given so many siblings — the Mindelans were not all as close. He wondered about those who were absent, Ladies Patricine and Demadine, Lord Avinar, and dead Sir Conal, but was interested to realise he was more impressed by Keladry's continuing assessment of possible implications, and worried by the thought of a further eddy, than alarmed by her attitudes. Was that what it might mean to walk with her as she walked with the gods?

The next afternoon Taren invited Their Graces to tea, apologising for his inexperience with the basilisk-ware tea-set he had purchased. He was cautious, asking after Mindelan and its Guild branch, and learning they had commissioned Master Geraint to build a temple of Lord Sakuyo, but realised they had questions too, and were happy to trade. Formalities were soon dispensed with, though it still felt very odd to him to call a couple so much older by their bare names, and he found himself warmed by their evident approval of his new policies at Stone Mountain.

"You all made quite the impression in Corus." Ilane smiled. "Imrah liked you, and Nond thinks you'll do nicely, no less. And what you've done here will go down well with many people." He looked his confusion, and she waggled a hand. "Riding to the rescue with Kel, for starters."

"She rode to the rescue. Sam and I just tagged along. Well, Sam held her belt up the tree."

"You went, Taren." Piers nodded. "Many nobles would not have done."

Ilane snorted. "Many nobles couldn't have made that ride to save their own lives. And few would have lent their men as unhesitatingly."

"What are soldiers for? It was good experience for Vesker and all of them. But I confess I envy their getting to do something useful. Sam, too. I just stood about. Yet I'm also relieved neither of us had to kill."

"Me too, Tar. And you saw what you saw — not only the horror, but the grace. We've all seen it … I don't know, passively, maybe. We heard the stories, and saw the way immortals treat Keladry. But seeing it actively has changed you and Sam, I think. You heard two gods speak. Maybe _useful_ isn't the word, but that's something."

"Mmm. I know I've changed, Var. You can't not."

"But it wasn't just hearing the gods, Var, even if my head's still ringing." Sam shrugged. "I can't speak for Tar, but what I dream of isn't just that awful thing, twitching and stinking, but Keladry dealing with it. It was all I could do not to retch, and she took one look and called the Black God to her hand, _knowing_ he would come. And it was the same up the tree, really. I froze when I saw what was happening, until she snapped me out of it — I can still hear her — and I barely had a hand on her belt before she'd nocked, aimed, and fired."

"Ah yes. Nealan calls it _see bully, smite bully_." Ilane's smile was wry. "It gives us conniptions sometimes too, Saman, but that's Kel and has been since she was very small. She just has rather greater resources to work with, these days, gods be thanked. Literally, however it bothers her. And at least she wasn't wounded this time."

"Not physically." Taren tried to think. "And I don't just mean her rage over those poor girls, and Unferth's evil. Her Clanchief's Guard have been … well, warier, or wider-eyed, around her since we got back to Dragonstown, and she doesn't like it at all."

"Ah, thank you, Taren. I've been trying to put my finger on that. We should have guessed, love."

"Yes. More Shinkokami." Piers sighed. "You see her well, Taren. She and the Crown Princess have been friends since they were six, but seeing her chatting with Lord Sakuyo upset Shinko's equilibrium, rather. We've been working on her, as has Roald, but she's grappling with a new understanding of her own life, with Lord Sakuyo's designs on it, and is still in shock, really. But Kel finds her, um, exaggerated and withdrawn respect very painful."

"Walking with the gods is costly."

"Oh yes. Very. And yet."

"Forgive me, but how do you cope yourselves?"

That was the question Taren had most wanted to ask, and Piers and Ilane looked at one another before he answered.

"With rejoicing and sorrow, every day, Taren. Rejoicing because she has so gloriously exceeded anything we could have hoped for, and truly does walk with the gods. And sorrow for the same reasons. I have always been, well, pious, I suppose, and hoped to be of use to the gods, but my youngest has taught me what it truly means for them to use you. To find uses for you. Do you know that she thinks of herself, amid much else, as the greatest killer alive?"

"Yes. Her men think she bears bloodguilt for them, as the Black God does for us all."

"They're not wrong, alas. But we have come to realise the gods do give her consolations, as well as costs." Piers straightened. "Your idea that they served her up her worst enemies is a part of it, I believe, but think of friends also. Tobeis and Irnai, with their talents, and above all Domitan and her healthy, wonderful twins, eased into the world by the Green Lady. Lord Diamondflame and her other immortal friends are her own doing, for even the gods don't command them. But you three are a part of it, too, I think. I mean no offence, but where she first thought of you as your father's victims, some of the small she feels obliged to protect, you are well on the way to becoming friends. And Kel needs friends even more than she needs liegers. It's not that she lacks them, gods know, but most have their own duties elsewhere. And there are not so many mortals who do not also look to her as liegelady or Protector or Clanchief, and so bring their own constraints."

Taren had been staring with a sense of incredulity, but knew the way people looked at him had changed when he inherited so unexpectedly. Even his mother and aunt had acquired a deference, and his relations with Horgan had shifted. Only Sam and Var had not been distanced, and that was because his first, instinctive reaction had been to pull them within his power as Keladry had pulled Tobeis and Irnai. _It seems disrespectful. It sounds friendly_. Yet he had not been able to go further than calling her Keladry, keeping to the full form in what he had supposed proper respect, but remained his own brand of wariness. And what did he know of friendship, anyway? The same forces that bonded him with Sam and Var had isolated them from other children, so he had no experience of it, and it was no coincidence that those he'd got on with best in Corus were honourable older men — not just father figures, which he had recognised, but because as their junior by a long way he hadn't needed to think of them as friends, concealing his incapacity from himself. His head spun.

"Tar?"

"I'm sorry, Var. Something made sense, suddenly." He met Piers's eyes. "I have been very grateful for Keladry's example, and instruction, we all have, but I had not presumed to friendship. It wasn't something that happened at Stone Mountain."

Both Piers and Ilane winced.

"Well, it happens here, Taren." Ilane settled in her chair. "Forgive me, but was your father as formal at home as he was in public?"

"Oh yes. We could call him Father, or sir. It's why it seems so wrong to me to drop titles."

"Formality has its place. But friends don't use titles."

"No. It's just … I didn't expect …"

"You came to apologise, and to set your fief straight with the Guild, and didn't expect to make a friend? No, there's more, isn't there?" Ilane's voice was gentle, but remorseless. "Do you have any idea how pleased Kel was when she got your letter?"

"Commander Svein told us she was." Var was frowning, gaze flicking between him and Ilane. "I don't think we really understand why, though. She's done far more for us than we have for her."

"That's true for almost everyone, Varia, from His Majesty down, not that Kel likes admitting it." Piers had a rueful smile. "But as to why, well, she'd been worrying about you all for a while, so hearing from you was a blessing."

"Worrying about us? But why should she?"

"Because of your father. Goddess, I can hear her yet. She came back from taking him to meet the elemental in a very complicated mood, but a part of her was fulminating about the way Lord Burchard's grief for Joren was blinding him to the fact that he had other children." Ilane shook her head, remembering. "And she was blaming herself, in a very Kel way, for not thinking before about what being Joren's sibling must be like. She didn't even know your names, but she felt bad for you."

"Joren's death didn't blind Father to us." Taren knew his voice was harsh. "His birth did. Or maybe his mother's death. Father never cared a copper bit for any of us until I became his unwanted heir."

"But that's not what matters, Tar." Var was smiling though her eyes were very bright. "He saw us and didn't care. Keladry didn't, and did. I often thought of her, wanting her strength, but I never imagined she thought of me." She peered at him. "And it doesn't matter if none of us know much about friendship that isn't by blood — she's teaching us that, too. We had a friend when we didn't even know it."

"But we're so much younger, Var."

Sam's voice was small, and both Ilane and Piers leaned forward. She waved her husband to speak, a gesture that reminded Taren of Keladry.

"Not so much, Saman. Kel turns twenty-two just after Samradh, and you're eighteen soon, I think?"

"In August. Var turns sixteen in October."

"It's seems a lot now, I know, and there are times when almost everyone feels younger than Kel. Very disconcerting it is to feel younger than your own youngest, too. But I do assure you that between adults age is no bar to friendship. And she has a capacity for friendship with those who are younger, as with those who are older."

Ilane gave her husband a look. "Not the point, Piers. He's not wrong about that, but what matters is the _not so much_. Kel turns older hearts without even thinking about it — look at Cavall, for goodness sake, and Turomot. She bent them into hoops, bless her. And as she can't pass by a wounded inchworm without offering succour, the small she protects love her, as she loves them. What she doesn't have is many friends close to her own age. It ought to be her yearmates, but Quinden was rotten right through, poor Merric and Seaver are dead, and Neal and Yuki can't be here all the time. She wasn't as close to Esmond. Owen's a great help, and Prosper, but he looks up to her too openly, so frankly, you're all a godsend, and probably literally so." Ilane smiled. "But please don't get pious about it. That really isn't what she needs."

Taren wasn't sure his head would ever stop spinning, but something had settled in him, still astonished but no longer incredulous. He had known they were all connected in the song of stone, whatever the gods might do, and friendship was a better name for it than he had had before, however humbling. And surely Stone Mountain needed all the humbling it could get.

"No. That I get, Ilane. And I am honoured. I think."

"That sounds like it, Taren. Don't expect the confusion to go away any time soon. And welcome aboard." The smile became a grin. "Stone Mountain, New Hope, and Mindelan, eh? There's one in Henchard's roving eye. Good for Kel, and all of you. Now, what _is_ the matter with that silly mage Sternross?"

As the foolishness of rigid pieties was canvassed, Taren knew Ilane and Piers had both understood far more than they said about his doubts of himself, the damage done that kept revealing new aspects, but were leaving him to think it through for himself while offering their own approval. They must be as conscious as he was himself of the irony in finding The Girl's parents substitutes for his own weak mother and bitter father, but as he saw Sam and Var respond to familial kindness and care gratitude swelled into affection. He loved his mother, but she had never been much help, and had nothing of Ilane's shrewdness or easy warmth, let alone the capacity with a glaive he'd seen when she sparred with Keladry, while Piers was everything his father wasn't and could never be — genial, formidably widely informed, diplomatic, and accepting of sorrow as well as joy.

A little later he caught Keladry heading to the Corral, and in the eerie, icelit space of the tunnel, conscious of the weight of stone above and the void stretching away on either side, managed to relay the gist of the conversation, with a rueful apology, half for not having understood even the possibility of friendship, and half for borrowing her parents. That made her laugh, echoes ringing, and she clapped his shoulder.

"You're welcome, Tar. And Sam and Var." He heard the affection in the diminutives. "Don't take this wrong, because they're right age doesn't matter much between adults, but Mama's been missing having just-grown children, I think. I flew the nest early, one way and another, we're all married now except Avinar, who has to be dragged away from the City of the Gods, and none of the grandchildren here yet qualify except Lachran. Papa too, a little, but beyond genuine feeling for you all they'll be thinking politics as well. The regranted fiefs are represented, because the King's put Sir Douglas and General Alan on his Council." She shook her head. "Lords Douglas and Alan now, but there are several of each. I wish they'd just rename Torhelm and Runnerspring."

"Do they plan to?"

"They did last I heard, but can't decide what. Anyway, the point is that Stone Mountain is represented only through you in the Council of Nobles, and Genlith unrepresented until Turomot's done, which isn't wrong, but isn't good either. But you've already done a lot to earn your fief's rightful place on the Council back, and Tortall can benefit as much as we will personally from mutual friendship. It's _not_ what a lot of people expected, but those worth respecting are very pleased about it."

They came to the bridge, Keladry — Kel — greeting the guard, and Taren noticing with surprise that the man had been reading a history of times before the Thanic Empire. As they went on Kel gave him a sidelong look full of amusement.

"The book's down to Irnai, who is fascinated by ancient history, and Kawit, who remembers lots of it and doesn't mind sharing. They've drawn in quite a few people."

"Only here." He didn't like to think what Stone Mountain would make of an ancient history reading group, with immortals. "Your mother said a friendship of Stone Mountain, New Hope, and Mindelan was one in Uncle Henchard's roving eye."

She laughed again. "And so it is. Quite right too. He and his kind of bigots are out of it for a generation at least, and by then Tortall will be a very different place. Scanra too, and Yaman."

"For a … I hadn't got quite that far. You say the gods think in the long term, Kel, but you do too."

"It's just momentum, Tar. It's hard to start real change, but war made it easier, and once it's underway you just have to keep pushing." Kel shrugged. "I have to push three countries, apparently. It seems to be the price of riding the Timeway, so I'm not repining. Much. You just have to push Stone Mountain, and maybe Genlith."

"Just." Taren shook his head. "You say push, but it feels more like falling."

"That too. So does war, sometimes."

"Huh. But you're so … you _cope_ with it. I never know what's going to happen here. Every day is different. And I realised something, talking to your parents, besides my own … damage, that underneath my anger with Father and Uncle Henchard, even with Joren, I was _bored_ by them. The anger masked it, but I was bored stupid. And it wasn't just the restrictions at Stone Mountain, or even their endless prating, but their utter predictability. Joren only ever surprised me by dying, and Father by abdicating. Were you bored by Torhelm and Runnerspring?"

"Oh yes. And I know exactly what you mean about anger masking boredom, though the two can pull in joint harness well enough — I found that out knocking all those knights Joren got to challenge me off their horses." They reached lighter limestone and began to negotiate the zig-zags that layered the defences. "And I cope with what I have to, Tar, but without Dom and Tobe, and my family, I'd be lost. And we all carry damage. War does that. Your responsibilities are less than mine, but you've had far less help carrying them. And far less training. Don't ever think you're not doing well."

She was silent for a moment, but as they came to the final straight, seeing daylight ahead, she stopped and put a hand on his arm.

"Why did you think yourself unworthy of my friendship?"

He blinked. "I … it wasn't that. It never occurred to me as something I could offer. Sam, Var, and I only have one another. We weren't allowed to mix with other children. They were _beneath_ us. And the only noble visitors were friends of Joren's."

"Faugh! Gods, Tar, that's … well, I have a strong urge to go and beat your father with a stick. If you do wind up with a flock of stormwings at Stone Mountain you really should get them to visit him."

"Maybe I will." He couldn't resist it. "I did think of building a tea-room for those using that shrine to the Goddess, and making the _kanji for_ the scrolls _eldest, blondest, deadest_."

"Ouch." Kel's hand went to her mouth in a gesture that reminded him of her mother. "Good one, Tar. Tobe will like it. And while I hate to agree with Nond about anything, I think you'll do nicely, too. I must get on, but we should talk seriously about Var's apprenticeship. She could take over the Guild Branch when she's of age."

"I'll talk to her, Kel. And, well, thank you. For everything."

"Not a problem, Tar." She smiled crookedly. "What are friends for?"

She went on her way, and he walked back through the tunnel, talking for a while to the guard about the fascinations of history, before other tasks called. He hadn't updated his journal in several days, and he owed his mother and aunt a letter. He owed his father _nothing_ , but he might inform him of the grace that poured from Keladry's hands, all the same.

Arrivals abated for a while, but for several days Taren found himself too busy to notice much. Var was very happy with the idea of a formal Guild apprenticeship, if concerned at having to stay at New Hope alone when they left, but less so with the idea of running a branch, while Sam found the gift of Mindelan friendship had released a bubble of buried misery and anger. They all needed to talk, and did, setting aside old hurts and welcoming healing, but it took time. Miss Loesia was an unexpected help, between Var and Sam in age and wiser than any of them in dealing with memories and emotions, and though she was a little cautious of their rank another friendship took deeper root.

Taren had his own anger to deal with, but that had a fresher cause. Among mail that came in, including a dry acknowledgement from Duke Turomot of his letter about Queensgrace, he had at last received a reply from Svein about the counter-signed letter Kel had sent, and his drunken idiot of an uncle _had_ received it, and ignored it as, his words to Svein, a damned impudence from a whore, a haMinch, and a halfwit king. The veteran, who had, as General Vanget recalled, lost an arm to a Scanran axe, had been living on the charity of his sister and her husband, contributing his thin army pension and helping as best he could on their farm. That had been righted, and a supplementary pension was being paid with arrears Taren also wrote the man a personal letter of apology. But there was still his uncle, and after some pacing he wrote three more letters, one he hoped would blister his uncle's hands, and others to Svein and the army captain at Margaran, ordering that Lord Henchard be permanently forbidden wine or any substitute. It was the only punishment he could think to inflict without affecting anyone else, though the soldiers who'd hear the protests might not agree. He would cheerfully have ordered his uncle to work on the farm, but it would have to be enforced, an experience neither the veteran nor his family needed, and if flogging had a fantasy appeal he knew he would never willingly order a kinsman's blood shed, however grotesque the kinsman.

More positively, he went to ask Domitan if he might speak with wounded veterans serving as auxiliaries in New Hope Second, to seek advice on how to help his own veteran. It turned out that one thing Domitan saw to for Kel was keeping a check on the labour to which the traitors not executed had been sentenced, a quest to make better replacement limbs than peg legs and hooks, and as their conversation broadened they took it to the Corral, drawing in others. Before they were done several men who had lost arms offered to write to his veteran of ways they had found of modifying things for one-handedness — a very interesting list in itself. It was more than he'd hoped for, but his anger remained, and when they were alone Domitan gave him a look.

"Let it go, Taren. It was wrong of your uncle, and stupid, but you've done all you can, as soon as you knew. Telling Svein to start the extra pension at once was right. Vanget will agree. And coming to ask for help today was smart." He rubbed his chin. "I've been thinking we ought to have an official wounded veterans' … what? Network? Club? A central pool of knowledge, anyway, to offer support and share ideas. But funding should be crown business, and this is a good example to use. The King won't be amused to learn one of his countersignatures was roundly ignored — he grumbled enough when Kel made him add them. And if we draft a proper proposal, we could get plenty of support from Nameday guests to give it some force, and Prince Roald's backing."

Taren was happy to be involved, and found the extension from helping one who was his responsibility to helping many, regardless, was soothing. He and Vesker learned a lot about how the veterans at New Hope had come there, and how Kel's practical approach to their employment had developed, driven, as Domitan admitted, by his own injury and the limitations it imposed. Stone Mountain also had men who'd lost arms or legs underground, and the veterans didn't think it mattered how a loss was sustained, so there were more letters to write, to Svein, his mother, the fief office of safety and standards, and the Miners' Guild, who were supposed to look after injured members but, he knew, did a poor job. That led to asking Mandrinal for advice, cheerfully given, with a shrewd suggestion that rather than asking for support individually they develop a briefing, and approach Prince Roald first to ask him to be not simply a supporter but a patron. Kel agreed, suggesting they also ask Duke Baird, who _did_ concern himself with veterans' welfare, and added letters to the Army Council and Council of Guilds to his tasks.

In consequence he spent two long days with Domitan — Dom, as Taren made a further effort to forgo formality as defence — and other veterans in the Corral, joined by Var, fashioning a crisply surprising briefing. What worked depended on how much of a limb had been lost, but there was always something. A man who had a hook for a left hand remarked that, useful as it was, he did wish he could change it to a fork when he ate, and Var blinked before asking if she might examine his hook. It was secured to a padded metal cup with a leather collar he could fasten to his forearm, and after peering at it, and staring into space for a moment, Var nodded.

"I can't see why you couldn't have one with a detachable hook, so something else could be swapped in. A screw-thread would work best. They take time and skill to cut accurately, but you'd only need a half-turn or so. What other tools would you want, sir?"

A list was generated, and smiths consulted. At the other extreme, a man missing his whole arm had found a sealed sleeve with some weighting was more use than a pinned one, helping his balance and giving him a way, however awkwardly, of fending off pushy cows when he'd worked on his parents' farm. Legs were trickier, given Dom's wound, but he was forthright about his brace, and it was again Var who pointed out that a peg-leg need not be a peg, but could be fashioned into a foot that would fit a shoe. Articulation was another matter, but could be referred to the traitors' workshop, and a dispute about whether giving a peg the contours of a leg would be helpful or weight too much was cut short when Var, having slipped away, returned to say that Master Numair assured her he could shape froth as easily as water, and Var'istaan saw no reason why froth, shaped or otherwise, should not be petrified as well as anything else.

An intrigued Dom used his authority to commandeer a tub of soapy water and a beater from a startled laundress, used one on the other, and dragged Master Numair and Var'istaan briefly away from their current Guild project. The resulting object was not entirely like a leg, but weighed less than a pound and didn't so much as dimple when two men stood on it. Thereafter the conversation went wildly sideways for a time, for the uses of a very light, very strong material were many — filler, packing material, support, protection — and before Taren had digested it a passing Kel, wondering what they were about, had stared, questioned briskly, and kicked the project up the Guild's list of priorities, bringing in apprentice branch supervisors to consider the new material. She asked who had thought of this wonderful absurdity, gave Var a hug as well as a blinding smile, and said they'd have to talk about her proper share of profits, before heading to the gatehouse to deal with some issue bothering Captain Uinse. Taren then had a protesting Var to deal with, but as they walked back to the Corral to start on those who had lost an eye he hushed her by telling her how proud he was of her, and asking what she would do with money which would be hers alone.

"The worker is worthy of his or her hire Var, as you know very well. Your idea, your money. And if it gripes you, think how cross Joren would be to know you'll have your own income and goldsmith-banker. You won't have to ask me, or anyone, when you want to do something."

Beside them Dom smiled, and so did veterans who heard.

"Wise words, Varia. I never wanted for anything at Masbolle, but one reason I joined the Own was to be my own man. Pay was a big part of that, and when I was … well, being an idiot, really, after I was injured, being a burden was itself a burden. Then I came here, had my world turned upside down several times over, and married Kel, who sees no reason money should be idle and manages to accumulate it in large quantities, so I've had to get used to having it, and using it. I thought of it as ease, and it is. But she thinks of it as a tool, or as power, you might say, and it's that too. You've done something sharp and very useful today. Are you going to be as grumpy as Kel when people reward you for it?"

Taren rather enjoyed Var's speechlessness, but gave her a hug of his own, and she soon became more thoughtful than surprised. The topic of one-eyed vision was unexpectedly interesting, for there were tricks that could help compensate — moving one's head to judge distance, learning to turn the whole body to save on aching necks. Most would learn for themselves but there was no harm in a written guide, and, more lightly, eyepatches needn't be black, and could be ornamental. Then again, basilisk glass could be used as readily for glass eyes as for windows, and colour finely controlled Dom was cautious, saying such fine work would eat basilisk time, already in high demand, but a man sporting a black eyepatch was tickled by the idea, and a conversation sliding into very odd notions of designs one might choose other than the appearance of a living eye was cut short when Button squeaked that the royal party had passed Greenwoods Fork, and the haMinch party Greenwoods Junction.

An immediate scurry began to make sure all was ready for the influx of horses, and additional grooms began to report. Abandoning work for the day they headed back through the tunnel with Dom, to find the Citadel equally bustling as a formal reception was prepared. Once washed and changed, Taren, Var, and Sam had nothing to do except be politely present, but were amused if mildly alarmed when Junior swooped down and inserted himself firmly into proceedings. Kel, in her red dress and talking to Captain Uinse, gave him a long look, but stooped to scratch his head when he booted her knee, and told him who was coming. When she began to straighten she avoided a snap of his beak with ease, told him in a stern voice to behave, and ignored him as he set about investigating everything, including them. Finding his own knee booted Taren knelt, wary of the beak, but was allowed to offer a scratch along the jaw before being abandoned for Var's slimmer fingers. In mid-purr Junior saw Lady Skysong coming with Daine and promptly bounded over for what looked like a good gossip, not sparing them a backwards glance.

"Ungrateful little brute, isn't he?" Daine was smiling. "Griffins are quite like cats that way."

"Is he so very bad? We haven't seen much of him."

"He went to see the team building the new fort for several days and make a nuisance of himself. And yes, he is. At least he hasn't terrorised anyone since he swooped on Numair. Well, not that we know."

"How did he come to be stolen?"

"I've never been able to find out, Varia. The parents won't say, and Junior insists he was asleep and doesn't remember. It might be true, but he was probably doing something he shouldn't."

"Huh. Doesn't he have to tell the truth?"

"That's one of the great questions, Taren." Numair joined them. "You'd think, but basilisks are immune to the rock-spell, and Junior certainly has feigning innocence down to a fine art, so I tend to think not. Still, lying by omission is more likely than by commission, I fancy."

"They allowed the song-lies."

"They did. I've wondered about that, but I don't know how much it mattered that the lies were about dragons. And Kit's no help."

"No." Daine grinned. "She just says no-one should ever lie about dragons, and if the griffins had refused she'd have scolded them."

"Would they heed her?"

"Who knows? But they heed Diamondflame and Rainbow, and know Kit's very advanced for her age, so maybe. Oh, and she said she'd spoken to you about Yaman, and you had a helpful story, so my thanks for that."

They discussed the dragonet for a while, seeing her gossip session with Junior expand to include young stormwings, as well as Amir'aan and another small basilisk Daine said was Bel'iira. As the crowds grew Taren was impressed by their self-discipline — not military order but neatly efficient, using all available space and keeping paths and areas towards the front clear. Piers and Ilane arrived, shepherding children and grandchildren with practiced efficiency, and Sir Anders caught his eye.

"With nine of us, Mama developed a mother-hen tactic when she wanted us all in line behind her and no messing. It still works, as you may notice." He grinned. "Kel's inherited it. You should have seen her when the King and Council were here, for the Treaty, and she wanted them to stop blathering and do something organised. It was priceless."

"I can imagine, Sir Anders. Well, I suppose command mode is a bit different, but one doesn't argue."

"No. Mother-hen mode is less direct, but just as effective. It's odd, you know, because Kel was never a bossy child. She just did for herself whatever she thought needed doing. But she's become the finest commander I've ever seen."

"The finest leader, Lord Imrah said."

"Did he? Huh. I served under him in the Immortals War, and I'd put him second only to Kel. It'll be good to see him."

"I didn't know he was coming. Oh, with Squire Lachran, I suppose."

"Yes, though I think he'd have come anyway. It's something of a siege reunion as well as a nameday, you realise? Kel didn't go south last Midwinter, and there's been all the Yamani events since then. This latest news, as well."

A look from Ilane had them hastily falling silent and taking their positions as the royal party began to enter, observing the ritual of the Honesty Gate. As all were personal guests Kel and Dom were welcoming them without her council, and Taren's rank put him, with Sam and Var, after the Mindelans, while her Guard stood in a block on the shelf. He was close enough to hear exchanges of greetings, and after Piers's words watched the Crown Couple carefully, seeing Princess Shinkokami's stiffness as Kel embraced her, the apology in Prince Roald's double handclasp, and the comfort of Dom's hand resting briefly against his wife's back. Kel gave the Princess an unfathomable look, but moved on smoothly her warm embrace of Sir Nealan and Lady Yukimi, carrying their happily babbling daughter Ryokel, with Dom's more restrained welcome for his cousin, were expected, but the equal warmth for Duke Baird and (to Taren's ear) slight wariness of Duchess Wilina less so. Dom's family were also in the party — his mother, Taren recalled, was Duke Baird's sister — and seemed mostly at ease with Kel, greeting her as cheerfully as she did them. Both Mrs Weaver and her husband were also embraced, and the gaggle of Protector's Maids individually greeted with firm handclasps. A smiling Lord Imrah had kept Squire Lachran waiting with a semblance of patience, and Taren had to suppress a smile at the young man's pained alarm when his aunt firmly embraced him too, commending his discipline and warning him she'd be testing his sword- and glaivework, before clasping Lord Imrah's hand. Sir Alanna and Baron George brought up the rear, and after Kel had greeted him she and Sir Alanna simply grinned at one another.

"Kel, Kel, what are we going to do with you? I leave you alone for five minutes, and you're at it again."

"Tell me, Alanna. Gods thick and fast."

"Well, as I gather the Black God was fast the thick must be Mithros."

"Oh hush. You'll give my poor Papa conniptions. And not really. Just getting his priorities muddled. Again."

"Un huh. The Goddess says to keep up the good work. Oh, and Lindhall and Bonedancer send apologies. He got his foot stomped on by an ungrateful mule he was treating, and Bonedancer wouldn't leave him. I'm not sure he quite understands namedays, and just clattered his beak a lot when I said he could ride with us if he wanted."

"Oh well. I'm sorry about Lindhall, and so will Numair and Daine be. Is he alright?"

"Cross with the mule, but healing well enough. It's just that bone takes time."

"So it does. You know Buri's pregnant again, so she and Raoul also sent apologies, though I think he wants her to come for the birth."

"He does. Who wouldn't, with that spiral here?"

"There's that. Belian and Marra declined with thanks, as they have a grandchild arriving any day, and Wyldon hasn't come because Vivienne's not been well, so Margarry and Owen are missing too. He was upset, but will give oath by spellmirror."

"Rats. I wanted to see him and Neal lined up. Do you know what's wrong with Vivienne?"

"He was rather red and wouldn't say, the old coot, so I suspect she's climacteric. We should get on, but two things." Kel's voice dropped, and Taren strained to hear. "Beware Master Sternross, because he's a pious idiot, you'll soon want to throttle him, and I'm _that_ close to booting him out. And talk to Numair about the ghastly nonsense Unferth was trying — he thinks he's understood how blood magic works to bind spells to earth, and that in itself might be useful."

"So noted, and will do, Kel. I want to talk to Numair anyway. But I don't think you'll be doing much getting on just yet — Vanget and his party will be here any moment."

"Oh right. On we go, then."

The Weavers and Protector's Maids were being shown to their rooms by Miss Loesia and assorted younger children, but newly arrived royals and nobles joined the receiving line. Taren found himself in a polite exchange with Prince Roald, but after proper enquiries about Princess Lianne, who was looking forward to seeing Galla and meeting Prince Loup, and appropriate congratulations on their part in rescuing stolen girls, the Prince asked with a genuine curiosity how they'd been getting on.

"Well, thank you, Your Royal Highness. I've been shadowing Kel, and learning a great deal. Sam's training with Captain Uinse and improving his Scanran by leaps and bounds, as are my guard squad, and Var's set for a Craftsbeings' Guild apprenticeship."

"Really? Excellent. My congratulations to you too, then, Lady Varia. If Kel takes a stick to the Council of Guilds I shall be cheering her on. So will Father."

Taren took the opening. "I suspect that day will come, Your Royal Highness, but in the meantime Domitan and I have discovered a cause in common, where guilds are concerned."

"Oh?"

"I'm annoyed with the Miners, because they're supposed to look after members who are injured but do it very badly, while Domitan wants to beat the Metalworkers."

"As do we all."

"Just so. But we've come up with a scheme to hit both birds with one stone — an official association of injured veterans, as a means of mutual support, with access to Craftsbeings' Guild work — and we wanted to enlist your patronage. Perhaps you'd have a word with Domitan and His Grace of Queenscove at some point this evening?"

"Certainly. It sounds like something that should be done anyway. I've been pushing Father to increase veterans' pensions, but with the war over he wants to refill the treasury before we drain it anymore. He does have a point." The Prince eyed him with interest. "You're much more relaxed than you were in Corus, Lord Taren."

"I expect I am, Your Royal Highness. Here I wonder what I'm going to learn today, not whose hostile or merely impertinent scrutiny I'm going to face next."

The Prince grinned. "I hear you. The wonder that is Kel, eh? Still, it doesn't relax everyone. There's a Master Sternross who's very agitated."

"He wrote to _you_?"

"To Father, wanting the Craftsbeings' Guild forbidden from what he called dangerous magical practices and experiments."

"He's an idiot."

"So we thought. Any particular sort?"

"The pious, rigid, and deaf sort. He thought Kel offended propriety and piety alike by ordering men who helped work death-magic buried without ceremony, and sees no difference between melding death- and blood-magics in murdering children, and melding basilisk and ogre powers to build first-rate roads. The principle's the same, after all."

"You're right about those roads. Remarkable. What principle?"

"Don't do anything new, and don't mix anything up."

"Ah. _That_ sort of idiot. Why hasn't Kel thwapped him?"

"She has, verbally, twice. Wuodan did too. I said he was deaf."

"So you did. Stone deaf, evidently."

Taren blinked, suddenly wondering again about stone and its songs, but had to store the thought as haMinches began declarations under the Honesty Gate. Lord Ferghal was bigger and burlier than his brother, with very bushy eyebrows and a stronger burr, but the resemblance was clear, and both were smiling broadly, genuinely glad to see Kel and offering congratulations on a swift rescue. They had brought Lady Demadine with her husband, Gavin haMinch, and their children, while a tall, thin figure, austere in grey, turned out to be Lord Avinar. He returned Kel's embrace, but looked drawn.

"I'm sorry to have to impose on you, Keladry, but Dean Charter didn't have much choice. The tales have all the senior divines flapping."

"So I've gathered, Avinar, and family is never an imposition. I dare say Master Sternross has been stirring the mages' pot as well."

"I believe so, but I don't think anyone takes much notice of him."

"How unexpectedly sensible."

Lord Avinar smiled. "He doesn't matter, Keladry. The gods do."

"Yes, but let's put that aside until we can talk properly after Samradh. Mama's going to beat you if you don't join in the celebrations while the family's all here."

Order was lost for a while as Mindelans and Masbolles greeted one another, but Kel kept a grip on her other guests, and after a while caught her mother's eye. Together they shepherded everyone to her guest-wing, Sir Anders grinning at him and mouthing 'See what I mean?', which Taren did. When he had arrived he'd been struck by the number of guest-rooms, but the wing was now packed to the rafters, and it seemed impossible to turn around without encountering one or another of Kel's nephews and nieces, all equally excited and inquisitive. He, Sam, and Var took refuge in the common-room, where Piers and Ilane were talking with Lord Avinar, Sir Anders with Lord Imrah and Lachran, and Sir Alanna and Baron George with General Vanget and Lord Ferghal. She waved them over, introducing them properly to Lord Ferghal, and Taren took the chance to tell General Vanget about his uncle's dereliction and what had been done to set it right. That led to Dom's idea, which everyone liked, and Var's petrified foam, which raised Lord Ferghal's eyebrows and made Sir Alanna grin, but induced thoughtfulness as its properties were grasped.

"Yet another useful innovation." Lord Ferghal nodded decisively. "Light and strong. Ought to insulate, too, I'd think."

"We're still testing it, my lord, but it seems to."

"Better still. You've a sharp mind there, Lady Varia. I know full well Kel's basilisks will petrify anything, but I'd not have thought of foam. Good for you." He smiled disarmingly at them all. "And it's good to know Stone Mountain has someone sensible in charge at last. No offence, but your grandfather was impossible, and your father not much better."

"None taken, my lord. We never knew our grandfather."

"Sounds harsh, I know, but you didn't miss much, Lord Taren. Same pride as your father but hot-tempered rather than icy, and couldn't agree with himself, never mind anyone else. Good old days be bothered — these good new ones are much better. Tell me how this thing with the wounded's going to work, if you will. We've enough who'll be interested."

Taren did, as far as they'd worked it out, and when Dom brought Prince Roald and Duke Baird to join them he grinned.

"Sounds as if you've done the job without the briefing, Taren, though we'll do that tomorrow. And we have two happy patrons."

Duke Baird was open with congratulations also, and Taren found he liked the man considerably. Conversation became general as the room filled, groups breaking and reforming as people entered. Princess Shinkokami and Lady Yukimi were apparently talking to Kel while she fed the twins, and Taren wondered about that conversation, but found himself under intent scrutiny by Sir Nealan. With a sense of irony he offered one more apology for any and all ills done by Joren.

"Fortunately, Sir Nealan, Kel and everyone else seems willing to forgive me my relations, except perhaps Peachblossom, who harbours suspicions, I think. I hope you won't."

"I won't hold anyone's relations against them, Lord Taren, and I refuse to agree with that brute of a horse about anything. Besides, Joren never apologised for anything, so you beat him hollow already."

"I would if I could, Sir Nealan, but that's down to the Black God now."

The smile was charming. "And acquiring Kel's attitudes too. Do make it Neal, please. Nealan is my mother or Yuki in a mood. And Sir Nealan is Alanna in a mood, which is enough to scare anyone."

"I imagine it is. Taren, then. Does any protocol survive here for more than half-a-mark?"

"Not much, gods be thanked. I suspect you're heartily sick of being asked, but do tell me about Kel's latest adventure. I've only heard second-hand snippets."

Taren was, but did, and found others listening until the summons to dinner saw younger children returned to maids, and Miss Loesia led them all round to the main entrance. The table was even bigger but still crowded, and the meal a whirl of excellent food and extremely varied talk. Mrs Weaver and her husband were there, with Mrs Spinner, but not other Protector's Maids, and Master Sternross seemed also to have been banished to the messhall, so far more diners were Mindelans than not. It might easily have become family and outsiders, but save Lady Demadine, talking to her sisters, including Kel, conversational groups were mixed. Sam and Var, on his left, were caught up with Sir Inness, Dom's father and brother, and Lords Imrah and Ferghal about the plans for the Vassa and (he blinked, overhearing) the possibility of making boats from petrified foam, while he found himself talking, or mostly listening, to Piers and Lord Avinar, who was explaining the anxieties besetting the City of the Gods.

"It was bad enough last year, but at least signing the Peace Treaty was an event warranting divine endorsement, even if Keladry did invite the High Ones to dine and dance." Lord Avinar grimaced. "But this business in Yaman! A private matter, in essence, but she calls on the gods, and they … I can't say obey, but it seems like it."

"It wasn't private, Avinar. Yaman might have fallen into civil war if your sister hadn't acted as she did."

"But that was a side-benefit, Papa. You said yourself that Keladry acted on the dragonet's behalf, and the Guild's."

"She did, Avinar, but it was for Yaman as well. Lord Sakuyo trusted her to do right by him, and His Imperial Majesty, and she did. I don't see why it should matter so much. Surely the plain facts that she asked and the gods granted are what theologians should be thinking about?"

"Yes, but the clear implication is that the gods care more for her than for our senior divines. Add that to Holloran saying we should all defer to her knowledge of gods, never mind a score of novices asking if they can transfer to New Hope, and _everyone_ is uneasy."

Taren couldn't stop a snort of laughter, and father and son both looked at him.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help imagining what Kel would do to those novices' heads if they were allowed to transfer."

Piers smiled. "There's that. And Kel doesn't need any more responsibilities, Avinar, so you can tell Dean Charter that's not going to happen. As to the senior divines, mmm, you needed to see Kel with Lord Sakuyo to understand, but the long and short is that she's become his friend, however theologically uncomfortable that may be."

"And the Black God's, I think." Taren shrugged under the joint stare. "He called her _daughter_ , and assured her the souls of those poor girls would have his special care. Perhaps Lord Mithros's too, for all her anger about Chaos-taint. Wuodan says she offers solutions when she calls on him to do something, and he finds it easier to agree than argue."

Lord Avinar shut his eyes for a moment. "And there we go, Papa. No offence, Lord Taren, but there are so many theological problems with that I can't begin to list them."

"Are there, Lord Avinar? Perhaps you could give me an example?"

"On the word of a hound, the highest god finds it easier to work miracles than to argue with a mortal, and you see no problem?"

"Wuodan's a divine hound, and Kel's a very unusual mortal drawn into divine affairs by the Timeway, so no, not really. It's a wonder, surely, but not a problem. Though with Wuodan I'm never quite sure when he's being ironic." Taren waggled a hand in the universal gesture. "At first I thought he was … exaggerating for effect, let's say, but I've come to think he just calls it as a hound sees it, and the effect amuses him. Then again, she teases him back, sometimes."

"And it just gets worse and worse. One is _not_ supposed to tease divine beings, even if they are four-legged."

"According to whom?"

"What?"

"Who says the divine must not be teased?"

Lord Avinar stared, and Piers laughed softly.

"I believe Taren has you there, Avinar. I told you Lord Sakuyo clearly _enjoyed_ bantering, and if it's acceptable to him I don't see why it shouldn't be to Wuodan. And who are mortals to object?"

"But it is _not_ respectful, Papa, and the temples _cannot_ endorse disrespect to the gods."

Taren blinked. "Your definition is too narrow, Lord Avinar. Do you suppose all respect must be deferential?"

"Of course it must. How can it be otherwise?"

"Readily. I respect your father greatly, and in matters of protocol defer to his rank, but that does not mean I must or should defer to him in all things, and to do so in matters of Stone Mountain would be quite wrong. Nor does it mean I cannot laugh with him."

"Papa is many things, Lord Taren, but not a god. Your analogy cannot hold."

"I don't see why not. Are we not all the gods' children?"

"Well yes, of course we are, but it's not the same. We owe parents our respect and love, but we owe the gods our worship."

Taren took a breath, thinking Kel was going to have her work cut out with this sibling. "On paper, perhaps, Lord Avinar. In practice, life is more complicated, I find. I have little respect left for my father, and believe we owe the gods our actions, not simply words and prayers. I've done a great deal of praying this last year and got nowhere, but a bare month after coming here I heard two gods speak, affirming actions Kel had taken and responding to her call for their action. So while I mean no offence, I'll bet the gods prefer Kel to your theological superiors because they find her a great deal more useful as well as more amusing."

Piers nodded, suppressing a smile. "I suspect so too, Taren. Certainly in Yaman it was action that was wanted, and here, with this ghastly shaman. And with Lord Sakuyo, at least, amusement cannot be denied."

"No. It _would_ have to be a trickster that Keladry's most involved with." Lord Avinar shrugged discontentedly. "I'll pass what you say along, but it won't be liked."

"I dare say not. Have you spoken to Lachran yet?"

Taren was tempted to ask why senior divines not liking something the gods approved of would matter to anyone with sense, but thought better of it. Lord Avinar was, if not in Master Sternross's league, nevertheless as offended by what he supposed impropriety as discombobulated by what he found he couldn't call impiety, but had the sense to allow his father's change of subject. The rest of the meal was without incident, and with the cheese board circulating Kel rose to give a brisk outline of events tomorrow, the eve of Samradh. Adult dragons and other immortals were expected soon after dawn, as were any number of liegers, and Guild business would begin at once, with presentations and Lady Varia's admission as an apprentice, followed by tests for those seeking Journeybeing status, which would take all morning at least. All were welcome but in no way obliged to observe, and warned that if as many dragons came as Kel expected space would doubtless appear very disconcerting, but it was harmless. (Taren blinked, wondering.) Lunch would be in the messhall, with a briefing about aid for injured veterans after, before any remaining tests and consequent promotions. Finally, as the tests involved magical ability as well as knowledge, children — Kel's gaze swept round the table, picking out nieces and nephews — needed to be careful as well as quiet. Piers rose to endorse that, and with a flickering glance at Lord Avinar and a nod to Dom's father added his thankfulness for the blessings of family safely gathered.

With an early start due, and older children beginning to yawn, people didn't linger. Sam and Var were both tired, and headed for bed, but having eaten very well Taren felt a need to walk. He paid brief respects at the shrines, thinking that if the City of the Gods were to receive the attention its divines craved they'd get a rude shock, and made a slow circuit of the alures, speaking for a while with a sentry who'd been a frequent sparring partner for Sam. Kel was making her own nightly circuit, more briskly in the other direction, but he took the chance to ask if she knew Master Sternross had complained to the King.

"I'm aware, Tar, but thanks for the thought. Jonathan told me about the letter, and Master Sternross won't like the reply Roald brought."

"But you'll still tolerate him?"

"He's entitled to complain to the King, and it's no odds to me. He's a bore and a nuisance, but sending him packing would add to Avinar's problems. Besides, he wrote that letter before Wuodan growled at him, and he's been quiet since. Why ruin everyone's day with a needless row?"

"True. Are the candidates nervous? I half expected them to be pacing about the green."

"Somewhat." She grinned. "Kawit sent them off to rest an hour ago. And I'd like to follow suit, so I must get on."

Taren continued his own circuit, enjoying the night air and letting his mind drift. Reaching the Gatehouse he saw a rider being admitted, but there was no indication of any alarm so he merely nodded to the man, beginning to turn away but swinging back to look harder. Add a good few pounds, and maybe. The man returned his gaze, eyebrows rising.

"Sir Voelden?"

"Yes." The voice was wary. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Many years ago, and I was only named to you, not introduced. Taren of Stone Mountain."

He offered a hand, and Sir Voelden took it, searching his face before offering a short bow.

"My lord. I recall Lord Burchard naming you, and I knew you were here, with your siblings, but I would not have recognised you." He gave a crooked smile. "I confess I'm surprised you recognised me."

"I didn't at first, but you were one of the people I'd hoped to meet here. Saman and Varia, too."

"I was? May I ask why, my lord?"

"Certainly, but perhaps elsewhere."

Where they would not be overheard by soldiers. Sir Voelden nodded.

"I should see to my horse."

Taren followed him to the stableblock, and helped him unsaddle and rub the beast down, learning that he'd been overseeing some rebuilding and re-organisation at Tirrsmont.

"Forgive me, but don't you find it awkward to be there?"

"Sometimes, my lord, but it's interesting. Most of my father's possessions were distrained, to pay his fines, and I never liked the way he had things arranged anyway. The place can't stand empty, and what to do with it was a sore puzzle until Lady Kel suggested a central office for mining in the fief as a whole, to free up space here." The crooked smile returned. "And being in my old apartments, knowing they're the only part of it I can still claim, is salutary."

Taren thought about that, finding his respect for the man increasing, and when the horse was settled led the way to the benches around the flagpole, at the centre of the green.

"We wanted to meet you for two reasons, Sir Voelden. To apologise, and I do, for any actions of my late half-brother and father that contributed to the ills that befell you. And to thank you, which I also do, for your example, which gave me hope that I too could face, forgive me, an inherited disgrace and find redemption."

There was a silence.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you."

"No, no. I just … I don't know what to say, my lord. I had no expectation of any apology, and I cannot say Joren led me astray. I was astray already. Your father I respected until I heard of his abdication."

"Oh? Why did that lose him your respect?"

"Forgive me, but it was a coward's choice."

"Yes, it was, however I am glad to be rid of him. He was not kind to the three of us, you understand."

"No. I recall being puzzled by his attitude to his younger children. He seemed to attend only to Joren."

"Just so. We were by-products of his need, not wanted, until I became so with Joren's death."

"That was very wrong of him." Sir Voelden looked austere. "I know what it is to have a selfish and neglectful father, though as heir my position was different. As to offering an example … well, thank you, my lord, for unexpected and heartening thanks. It was bitterly hard at first, for I was deeply ashamed and could no longer lie to myself, nor find oblivion in my cups, and the respect I found I could not grudge Lady Kel was a burr under my skin. But the work she gave me was a solace, and … well, she was very … kind, though the term is not adequate."

"I have seen grace pour from her hands, Sir Voelden, and not only the Black God's."

"Yes. She was very gracious. Is. She gave me back my honour." There was a third crooked smile. "She would tell me I took it back for myself, but I know a gift when I receive one, as I know your gifts this night, my lord. Perhaps you would introduce me to Lord Saman and Lady Varia tomorrow?"

"I will be happy to, Sir Voelden. And if our thanks help you, we are glad of it, for you helped us, however unknowingly."

They talked of easier things for a while, Var's apprenticeship drawing surprised questions, and Sam's training martial approval, before Taren excused himself to bed. Sir Voelden was the last of those to whom he had thought he should offer apologies, and completing that list was an unexpected boon, auguring well for the future. And tomorrow there would be dragons, stormwings, new darkings, and all manner of beings assembling in witness and celebration, not least of Var's formal admission to the newest and most important guild in Tortall. Uncle Henchard would spit when he heard that news, _and_ have to deal with it in an enforced sobriety that might make even him confront his shame. Taren slid into sleep a contented man.


	51. Chapter 52

Chapter 8: Chapter Seven - The Theatre of Gods and Dragons Chapter Text

 **Seven : The Theatre of Gods and Dragons**

 _New Hope & Galla, 20 June 464 HE_

Taren was up before dawn, but still found Kel pattern dancing before the shrines. He waited to pray, admiring by runelight her fluid grace and what seemed, however paradoxically, a stillness within her accelerating motion. When General Vanget and Lord Ferghal came to wait with him, both already in fine clothes, he hesitantly mentioned his thought, speaking softly, and Vanget nodded.

"Quite right, Lord Taren. Good eye. Only true weapon masters, what the Yamanis call _sensei_ , have it. They call it being centred, I think. Shang call it being within your own skin, which amounts to the same thing, I dare say. Either way it's striking, isn't it?"

"Very. And beautiful. Such absolute balance the world moves around her while she stands still."

"Hah. Yes, I like that. Wyldon has it sometimes, and Alanna, with the sword. She's the last person I saw defeat Kel at anything, and not by much, but with the glaive Kel's got it in spades."

They watched as Kel finished up, glaive blurring in the last moments, then moving with exquisite, steady slowness in a wide sweep before she came upright with it by her side. Having mopped her face with a handkerchief and redonned her fine tunic, she nodded to them.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all, Kel, and we're well repaid. You're in very good form."

"Yaman beat out any cobwebs, Vanget." She grinned. "You should try sparring with armoured spidrens. I wanted to see what Wyldon would do against twin blades."

She followed Taren in kneeling briefly before each shrine. So did Piers, who had joined them with Lord Avinar, but the younger man knelt only to Lord Mithros, head down, and Taren saw Kel gaze at him for a moment, face still. His own prayers were the usual thanks and hopes for safety and well-being, but he increasingly found his devotions spiced with a lively curiosity about gods and their ways. Was Lord Mithros yet being scolded by the Great Goddess and Black God? And was there anything distinctive about divine senses of humour and irony, beyond their scale and the seeming value of pain? Were gods really waiting to see what Kel would do next? Certainly they cared for the Mortal Realm and its denizens, but Wuodan made them sound like spectators at a play, wanting their money's worth from actors who had not been allowed to read the script. Rising, he saw false dawn lighting the eastern sky, and the icerunes brightening with it.

When they headed to the messhall they left Lord Avinar kneeling, and Taren thought he hadn't noticed their departure. Piers shook his head, murmuring to Kel, who nodded, expression touched with rue. It struck Taren that there was more than one reason she did not openly claim the status as celebrant Archdivine Holloran had recognised, and in a curious way sidestepped it, even while going straight to the source, but had to file the thought as she dropped back, catching his eye.

"Taren, I meant to tell you that Kuriaju and Var'istaan finished the Firestone Staff, so I'll be receiving it today, and offering you the Guild's formal thanks for a princely gift."

"Oh. Good, and the Guild's very welcome, Kel. Do I need to reply?"

"Need, no, but a few words would be good. I don't want to get sidetracked onto the songs of stone, but they shouldn't be forgotten."

"No. I hadn't anticipated having to address dragons. Any advice?"

She grinned. "Stand straight and be polite but direct. They'll be in good humour today, I hope, but Diamondflame and Rainbow are not much for small talk."

"Not a problem. I'm not so keen on public speaking myself."

Lord Avinar caught up with them as they reached the messhall, a herd of guests, including Sam and Var, behind him, and the high table was soon crowded. It was Lady Ryokel's birthday, and at the ripe age of two she had a self-possession Taren thought remarkable, enjoying a few presents from parents and grandparents but clearly aware time did not allow more, and eating without fuss. He had given her one of the educational toys brought from Corus, held back against just such a need, for Sam and Var as well as himself, and thought with amusement that he was more impatient to see her open it than she was herself.

Many eating were families who'd already walked some distance to attend, and Taren idly wondered how the cost of feeding so many liegers on eves as well as feast days was handled he knew the fief's soil was blessed — every bite said so, flavours rich and deep — but food and labour still cost. It was, however, good for morale : he heard cheerful greetings as people squeezed up to make room, and noticed Miss Loesia with some older children shepherding not only Vorinna, Fréawaru, and Hilde but all the illegal settlers. They had no finery, but were in new clothes of decent quality — another cost Kel had absorbed, he'd bet — and if some of the men still looked askance at almost everything, the older women were clearly coming round to their daughters' way of thinking. He said as much to a chewing Sam, who nodded, and with a tilt of his head indicated Master Sternross, entering with a very sour look on his face — the King's letter, presumably, though even as Taren explained he wondered why, if Kel had spoken to the King about Master Sternross, Prince Roald had needed to ask him about the man? Might the letter not have been delivered if he'd expressed approval, or doubt about Kel's actions? He'd given an honest opinion, and didn't mind being used as a crosscheck, but wished he'd realised sooner.

Kel rose, commanding silence with a resonant 'Oy!', noted the presence of the Crown Couple and other nobles, gave a version of the day's schedule that still included a friendly caution to children, and another brief account of what dragons could do to space and why not to worry about it. Nor was it wise to address them unless invited or in true necessity, but should any dragon address you, the answer was _At once, my lord_ or _lady_ , as the case might be. And while people were welcome to come and go as they wished, Guild proceedings should be respected.

"The candidates may be immortals, people, far older than any of us, but they are still young for their kinds, and as nervous as anyone facing a public test with elders observing — think about how _you'd_ like people to behave, if it was you up there having to concentrate. And enjoy the day. It's one that matters to our future. Now, dragons tend to be prompt, so those who want a good view should be moving, but let me get my guests out first, please."

Thus chivvied they went, though Kel paused briefly to speak to Vorinna, Fréawaru, Hilde, and other rescuees, telling them that Duke Baird, the expected stormwing queens, and even dragons might want to ask them about unterrorising. All nodded, however their families looked alarmed, but there was no chance for more as Captain Uinse stuck a head through the door.

"Lady Skysong says incoming dragons, Lady Kel, and lots of 'em."

"Right you are, Uinse. I told you all dragons were prompt. Let's go."

While they were eating immortals had gathered, spidrens, ogres, and basilisks too numerous to count filling the terrace on both sides of the shrines, wooden perches for stormwings among them, though some preferred rooftops. The adult griffins and Junior were there, with a dozen hounds, though which Taren could not tell. Soldiers were keeping the whole area between shrines and green clear, and the playground railings had been removed seats for Kel's personal guests were set out on one side, and three chairs stood before the shrines, one in the middle and two to one side, the other being occupied by Kawit. A gasp from Var made him follow her gaze up to see a great spiral of descending dragons, already low enough that their true size was apparent, surrounded by sparks that after a moment he realised were stormwings, steel feathers catching sunlight. He had to drag his gaze away to heed where he was going, and there was some milling over the protocol for seating, cut short by Prince Roald who with his Princess took the centre of the front row, gesturing Domitan and Tobeis to sit by him, and Their Graces of Queenscove and Mindelan to flank them. Lord Imrah with Sir Alanna and her husband took the remaining seats in the row on one side, and Taren, Sam, and Var shared the other with Neal and Lady Yukimi, Lady Ryokel on her lap. Mindelans, Masbolles, and Maids filled rows behind as arriving stormwings heeded an imperious gesture from Queen Barzha, on a perch, and landed on perches beside her — four glass-crowned queens and their consorts. He glanced at Neal as he heard a long sigh of relief.

"They've washed." Neal spoke softly. "Kel said she'd insisted, but I still can't quite believe in clean stormwings."

Having met only the reformed Stone Tree Nation Taren didn't have that problem, and wasn't thinking of stormwings as dragons began to land, wings cupping air and silver claws scoring the petrified mud surface. From their colours and central position Taren could guess at Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow, and swallowed at a vast figure that had to be Lady Icefall's father, Lord Jadewing, but there were dragons of every hue, from palest white to rippling blue-black. And space _was_ distorting, mortals assembled on the green and beyond tilting in all directions, the flagpole swinging around the sky until it abruptly straightened, the only upright in a panorama that looked more like a carelessly tossed quilt than the main level. There were cries of alarm, and it was deeply disconcerting to see, but as Kel promised no-one seemed to take any harm. When the last of, count them, twenty-three dragons was safely down Lord Diamondflame looked round, gave what might have been a draconic _tsk_ , and did something that amounted to shaking the quilt out, causing more cries but leaving it neater, if still hillocky, before settling again, intent on Kel. She stood by the central chair, Masters Numair and Valestone beside her, and raised a hand.

"Lord Rainbow, Lord Diamondflame, my lords and ladies, Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, and all guests, be welcome to the Citadel of New Hope."

Her voice carried effortlessly, and Lord Rainbow inclined his head. Taren had known from Lady Skysong he was blind, but opaque eyes were still a shock.

 _Thank you, Protector. As you see, many have felt it right they should witness what goes forth this day._

"And all are welcome. Guests and liegers, observing in courtesy, know who has come."

In what was, Taren decided, a calculated display, Kel named all the dragons, giving dignities as parents of apprentices where appropriate, and ending with the parents of the four seeking promotion. Then she asked Queen Barzha to introduce her visitors, promising attention to their requests once the formal business was done. Turning, she gestured to those flanking her.

"In today's tests I preside as Guildmaster, and have charged Dean Kawit Pearlscales, with Masters Numair Salmalín and Idrius Valestone, to act as examiners. Does any member of the Guild object to their serving thus? Or any who observe?"

Her gaze was on Lord Rainbow.

 _We honour your choices, Protector, but will test those candidates who are dragons ourselves. Once made Journeydragons of the Guild, they will be permitted to travel in the Mortal Realms as they will, or are asked to do, and we would be sure of their fitness for such liberty._

"So noted, Lord Rainbow. All dragon apprentices remain under the ultimate authority of the Dragonmeet. I ask only that any failure be fully explained to the candidate, that he or she may know what must be done to pass on a future occasion."

 _Certainly, Protector. Any concern will be made clear._

"Thank you. And so we begin. My first, most pleasant duty is to acknowledge an unexpected and very generous gift. The Craftsbeings' Guild is younger even than its youngest members, and has had little time to accumulate traditions or insignia of office, as other guilds have, but today I can as Guildmaster say that we have made a fine start."

Master Kuriaju stepped forward, proffering a long velvet bag Kel took, with a deep nod.

"Lord Taren of Stone Mountain, of his grace, gave the Guild a famous and unflawed ruby, the Firestone, that has been set in a staff carved by the skill of ogres and petrified by the power of basilisks. Lord Taren, is there aught you would say before your gift is revealed?"

It was sooner than he had expected, but he found himself on his feet, striving to project his voice.

"Only this, Guildmaster — that I have been told of the songs of stone and fire by Journeyogre Elimiaju and the honoured Bard Olimiariaju Earfiller, and that the Firestone acquired by my forebears has long sat dark and unheeded in a vault. It seems to me right that it shine and sing again, and so I give it freely, that it may serve you and your successors with and in all honour."

He had not intended quite that phrasing, but his heart pulsed as his tongue spoke, and somewhere far above a hawk screamed. The dragons' attention became palpable, and Kel cocked her head, expression austere.

"Lady Shakith hears you, Lord Taren, and I thank you on behalf of the Guild, myself, and all who shall follow me in this office." He sat again, trembling slightly, and Var clasped his hand. "Master Kuriaju, would you or any who helped make the Staff say aught at this time?"

"There is no need, Protector. The Staff will speak for itself."

Kel nodded, and drew the Staff from its bag. Taren just had time to see that the shaft bore carvings and had been petrified in many colours, shading into translucency where slim brackets clasped the Firestone, before Kel held it aloft and the great ruby found runelight, flaring into dazzling life. Lady Ryokel gave an _ook!_ of surprise, murmurs swelled among the crowd, and as Taren blinked it seemed to settle but still glowed fiercely, pulsing as Kel turned it. Her voice held serene authority.

"So the Firestone Staff has spoken, welcoming light, and the charge I lay on all who follow me in office and bear the Staff is to welcome light always — in transparency of dealing, that all the Guild's trade be fair and seen to be so in research and experiment, sharing what is learned that may benefit others and in uprightness and clarity of purpose, open to the regard of all Three Realms. I pray to all gods that so mote it be."

Very many voices echoed the invocation, and chimes sounded, full and sweet. Kel turned to the shrines, bowed, and turned back.

"My second duty is the admission of new members, as apprentices or such higher rank as shall be deserved. Lord Rainbow, have more darkings come, as it was said they might?"

 _They have, Protector._

The senior dragon rose, extending a paw almost to Kel's feet, and a wash of black flowed down from his neck, pooling on the stone before shimmering and wriggling into scores of blobs. Kel surveyed them with a smile, Ebony peering from her collar, before kneeling.

"There are more of you than I expected, little ones, and all most welcome. Thank you for coming. To know how each would wish to serve, and to what service each is most fitted, will take time we cannot now spare, but come to my hand, one by one, and tell me your names."

It was a bizarre but oddly impressive process, darkings swirling into a line and leaping to Kel's hand to squeak a name she repeated for all to hear. Neither she nor any darking dawdled but with well over a hundred of them it took a while Taren could hear younger children fidgeting behind him, but all immortals and all of the Guild were sharply attentive — properly so, as he had been taking oaths of loyalty. As a last darking leaped down from her hand Kel rose, calling forward Dom, and from somewhere Daine, Irnai, and Lady Icefall. Daine looked amused, and Lady Icefall interested, as at Kel's gesture darkings perched thickly on mortal shoulders and along a dragon back.

"Does any member of the Guild here present have any reason why these darkings I have named should not be admitted to the Guild, their oaths to be given and ranks to be determined when time serves?" She gave it a few seconds. "Then they are so admitted. Go now with those who will welcome and look after you, obeying the orders of Button."

From Dom's collar Button gave a commanding squeak, as loud as Taren had ever heard from a darking, and tiny heads swivelled, nodding, before mortals and dragon made careful ways back to their places.

"Thank you for bringing them, Lord Rainbow. They will be of great help as the Guild goes forward."

 _You are welcome, Protector, and all were eager to come. The name of the Guild resounds in all the Realms._

Kel quirked an eyebrow, but bowed. "I am happy it should. There is one more candidate for admission, as apprentice to Masterminer Kuriaju. Lady Varia of Stone Mountain, Master Kuriaju, please stand forward."

Taren heard Var swallow as she rose, and stood himself, though he didn't accompany her as she went to stand beside Master Kuriaju on the step before Kel.

"Lady Varia, you came here to learn how to benefit the miners of your brother's fief. Do you now seek admission to the Guild as an apprentice of your own free will?"

"I do, Guildmaster."

Var's voice was clear, despite nerves Taren could hear, and his pride in her rose.

"Master Kuriaju, you have agreed to sponsor Lady Varia and oversee her teaching. Do you do so of your own free will?"

"I do, Guildmaster, and have no doubt of her fitness to be an apprentice."

Kel's gaze rested on him. "Lord Taren, as Lady Varia is not yet of age, I ask if you as her legal guardian are willing that she should be admitted to the Guild?"

"I am full willing, Guildmaster, and wish Varia every success and joy of her membership."

"So noted, Lord Taren. Does any member of the Guild here present have any reason why Lady Varia of Stone Mountain should not be admitted to the Guild, as the apprentice of Master Kuriaju?" The same few seconds were allowed. "Lady Varia, give your oath."

Var swallowed, but again spoke clearly. "I, Varia of Stone Mountain, do solemnly swear that I will honour and uphold the charter of the Craftsbeings' Guild of New Hope, and will obey the lawful commands of its officers, and will be diligent in all my duties."

"Your oath is heard and accepted, Lady Varia, and I, Keladry of New Hope and Mindelan, Guildmaster, do reciprocally swear that the Guild will honour your rights, protect and teach you, and ensure that you are paid fairly for your work. Be welcome among us, now and always."

Var stepped up to be embraced, embracing Kel hard in return. Disengaging, Kel turned her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I also formally acknowledge that Apprentice Lady Varia has already made a valuable contribution to the Guild, suggesting the trial of petrified foam as a material both light and strong, suitable for many purposes. As with existing acknowledgements of those who contributed to the creation of icelights, petrified webmesh, and MATs, financial arrangements will be made to reflect that contribution."

Taren had been watching Var, seeing her blush and the pride when Kel named her as Apprentice, but was aware dragons' attention had sharpened again at the mention of petrified foam. Whether it was just a draconic equivalent of 'Petrified _foam?_ ' or something more he wasn't sure, but several gazes tracked Var back to her place beside him, and might make whatever they wished of his and Sam's embraces and murmurs of congratulation before they took their seats again. A stormwing perch had been placed on one side of the step below Kel, and Miss Loesia stood beside her carrying a tray with four small boxes on top of a bulkier package.

"My third duty is again a pleasant one, of reward. As all Guildmembers know, and most who observe today, our journey to Yaman was not without unhappy incident. An attempt on the life of Journeydragon Lady Skysong was prevented only by a warning given by Lord Sakuyo, and in the ensuing mêlée three Guildmembers gave extraordinary service, above and beyond duty, as did Lord Tobeis. Lady Skysong herself, magnificently keeping her wits, acted in my defence, killing one who would have killed me, and Journeybasilisk Amir'aan, defending her as was right for an elder, killed two who would have killed Lord Tobeis as he also fought others. Journeystormwing Cloestra also fought, ingeniously slaying two of our foes. By the grace of many, the guilty have been punished as fully as may be, but the time of punishment did not permit reward, and that comes now. Journeydragon Lady Skysong, Journeybasilisk Amir'aan, Journeystormwing Cloestra, and Lord Tobeis, please stand or perch forwards."

Taren had half-expected Kel to say _hoick'em_ somewhere, and saw a glint in her eye as she spoke of perching forwards. Dignity was maintained as a very pink Lady Skysong, Tobe, and Amir'aan climbed, and Cloestra flapped from a perch by Queen Barzha to the one on the step, but Kel's voice was touched with solemn amusement.

"How to reward immortals is something of a puzzle, and the utility of medals has been questioned. But if they are primarily symbols, recognising valour, few will take the Guild's recognition lightly." Kel gracefully went to one knee, and as Miss Loesia crouched beside her opened one small package, deftly extracting a gleaming medallion on a silk band. "Lady Skysong, please bow your head."

The dragonet did, a deeper pink than ever, and Kel set the ribbon about her neck, then took something else from the box.

"You know, Kit, wearing that will not always be convenient, so there is a simpler indication of its award." She fastened an embroidered velvet collar around the dragonet's neck, adjusting it so the rondel it bore was centred. "Wear either or both with pleasure and right pride, knowing the gratitude and respect of all for great courage in adversity, on that day and all days since. Rise now, and face your elders and peers."

Lady Skysong did so, and as one dragons rose and briefly inclined their heads, sending her a pink it was almost painful to see.

 _I have said it before, Skysong, and will say it again. You grace your clan, and your valour is now rightly known._

 _Thank you, Ancestor Rainbow. I treasure your words, and all dragons' approval._ Lady Skysong's mindvoice had a quaver but was determined. _And there is one thing I would say to all. The Guildmaster speaks of others' valour and skill, never mentioning her own. It is true god Sakuyo warned her, and I thanked him for it, but it was her skill that saved me. She deflected the crossbow-bolt, taking harm in doing so, and in fighting the mortals who assailed us opened herself to deadly hurt only in seeking to defend all. And when the fighting ended, my welfare and Amir'aan's were her first concern, though wounded herself. To receive this honour from her is deeply gratifying, but I find it very annoying that I cannot reciprocate, so I wish to place on record my formal thanks to Guildmaster Keladry, and my belief that she deserves a medal far more than I do._

Kel had herself gone an interesting shade during the encomium, and gave Lady Skysong a distinctly fishy eye, but that did not stop the dragons rising again to incline heads, nor others following suit, immortals and mortals alike. Taren found he had risen without thinking, and saw Prince Roald and Princess Shinkokami had done likewise he sat again, hearing Neal's grunted approval.

"About time."

Kel returned a bow, and straightened, shaking her head to clear it. "You're welcome, Kit. And thank you, all. I could not have done less."

And for Kel, Taren thought, that was simply true, however astonishing the doing. The ceremony was repeated, first for Amir'aan, who enjoyed a chorus of basilisk hisses and added his own thanks to Kel, his fluting whisper boosted by Numair, stooping to lay a hand on the back of his neck and again for Tobeis, who declined a velvet collar but stood very straight during prolonged applause. Then it was Cloestra's turn, and after dealing with medal and collar Kel acquired another glint in her eye as Master Kuriaju and a second ogre came to stand behind the perch. Cloestra glanced round, head cocked with curiosity.

"Something more, Protector?"

Kel's smile was close to a grin. "You were clear a medal would only be a nuisance in flight, Cloestra, and fetching as the collar is, it's not quite stormwing style." Cackles of agreement came from perches and rooves. "But I remember you once lamenting that wings without hands made any kind of dress impossible, and as people keep insisting, impossibilities don't sit well with me. So with Queen Barzha Razorwing's let, Master Numair's aid in creating a magical fastening, and the embroidery skills of Mrs Spinner, I have for you a tunic."

She opened the bulky package, taking out a length of leather, and passed it to Master Kuriaju, who slid it over the perch.

"Feet through these holes, Cloestra, then extend your wings slowly."

It took some careful shuffling along the perch before Master Kuriaju and the other ogre, avoiding Cloestra's wings, could lift the front and back, adjusting slightly to (Taren realised) make sure Cloestra's breasts were snug, and fasten them at her shoulders, ogre height making it easy. When they stepped away the back could be seen, Taren's breath caught, and silence deepened, for the embroidery was magnificent — Cloestra herself in a full dive, vivid against black leather with wings back, hair streaming, eyes alight, and claws extended to grasp the dome of a skull. Steel feathers and claws were wrought in silver thread, flashing in the light, and above the image, a semicircle in gold thread, was the legend **STONE TREE NATION**.

"If you tap the fastenings with your chin they open, but perhaps you might wait to experiment." Kel's voice was complex, though amusement ran through it. "Kuriaju has a mirror so you can see the back."

Where the ogre had produced it from Taren hadn't seen, but he held it up, angling it, and Cloestra turned her head.

"Oooh!"

The exclamation and obvious pleasure released a buzz of talk, and Taren didn't hear the next exchange between Kel and Cloestra, but when she folded her wings and turned to face the crowds his breath caught again. The front was simpler, **Craftsbeings' Guild** lettered high on one side and **Cloestra** on the other, but the effect was considerable. One did grow used to stormwings' nakedness, and of necessity ignored it, though it was hard to forget entirely, tending in both males and females to the pendulous, but the tunic was cut to lift Cloestra's breasts and generated a considerable cleavage, shown in the scooped front. And modesty was not the point, for the tunic transformed her appearance, setting off the collar with its rondel. Stormwings were stormwings, and all Taren had spoken to impressive in their own way, but clad in black leather Cloestra acquired a potent dignity to bring all up short. That it genuinely rewarded heroism Taren didn't doubt, nor the affection in the considerable effort Kel must have made to create it, but it served a greater purpose, pushing transformation of the Stone Tree Nation. This was not an incomprehensible being, existing only to terrify, or soil casualties of war, but a ranking and decorated member of Guild and Nation, a dignitary, and he had no doubt other stormwings were deeply envious. Queen Barzha, still and intent on her perch, had an expression suggesting she agreed, and the visiting queens and consorts seemed entirely taken aback, the looks on their faces almost comical. Less expectedly, Lord Diamondflame was, Taren would have sworn, both amused and admiring.

"And so the Protector strikes again." Cloestra's voice was full and rich. "I may have to reconsider the value of medals." Stormwings cackled as Cloestra turned on the perch. "Thank you, Protector. You are ever surprising us. It's quite the talent."

"You're very welcome, Cloestra, and I try. Immortals are wise with age, but a long life may mean deep ruts, and getting out of them is good."

Glancing round, Taren thought most immortals ruefully agreed, and stormwings cackled again. Kel stood back and Cloestra returned to her original perch beside Queen Barzha, silver and gold on her back glittering while her wings were unfurled, and the power of the tunic became even clearer once she was among the others.

"And so to our major business today, testing for Journeybeing status. Dean Kawit?"

The opal dragon nodded to Kel.

 _Thank you, Guildmaster. There are today five candidates who seek promotion to Journeybeing of the Guild, and as these are the first such examinations I note that their form has been the subject of much debate. Differing kinds have differing abilities, physical and magical, so testing cannot be uniform, yet there is much all who would Journey must know — the rules of the Guild, in letter and spirit, the mortal ways of its dealings, and the abilities of all members that may be called on in need. These will be tested, and the particular skills of each candidate as is fit. Does any member of the Guild have any question about our procedures? Or any immortal observer? Then I call Ogre Apprentice Ventriaju to stand forward for examination._

Ventriaju was not full-grown, Taren knew, reaching perhaps seven foot, but being very skilled with a sling had fought actively during the siege, and was felt to have shown great maturity. He was smartly turned out, though his pockets bulged, and if clearly nervous stood straight and answered crisply. Kel began with the Guild's charter and purpose, handing off to Master Valestone for matters of finance, shaped around a fundamental commitment to benefiting members according to their work, not middlemen or masters. Kawit interjected questions, and took over to ask about the Guild's Magical Seminar and publication of results in its biannual journal. Because Ventriaju was Kuriaju's nephew, Masterminer Petrin was called to attest that his knowledge of mining was all it should be, his conduct underground always conscious of safety. Then it was Numair's turn.

"Apprentice Ventriaju has no magical ability, but as a Journeyogre may face situations where commanding others' magic is required, and so must know what each kind can or cannot do. So, some hypotheticals."

In swift succession he pitched questions at Ventriaju, who answered steadily about what he might do if he were to find an injured mortal, see an unsafe structure, learn of an impending crime, or realise an imminent danger to mortals over whom he had no authority. Much depended on whether he had a darking or spellmirror, but it was clear he could think well about how the various resources of the Guild could be combined and exploited, and Numair nodded.

"Good. Now, there is also, or should be, a practical test. Apprentice Ventriaju has contributed greatly to our study of spidren webbing, working tirelessly to improve webbing slings." The mage smiled. "The mathematics are really interesting, as is the magical theory, but I'll spare you. Suffice to say that elasticity is mostly helpful but sometimes not, and Apprentice Ventriaju worked with different threads braided with webbing to map that. Whether the current mix is the best possible no-one knows, but it's very good, and an apprentice work of great distinction. We _were_ going to have a demonstration, but there doesn't seem to be room, unless, Lord Rainbow, we might have a range of some two-hundred yards along the front of the terrace?" Numair pointed to two soldiers who waited with a stand and a box of clay balls. "These men would need to be at one end, with room to stand safely aside, and Apprentice Ventriaju at the other."

 _That presents no problem, Numair Salmalín._

And it didn't. Space swirled, scooping up soldiers and apprentice, and not only separated them by the required distance but lifted them a dozen feet so all could see. A suddenly distant Ventriaju bellowed thanks to Lord Rainbow, and the soldiers set up the stand, placing three clay balls along it and standing as far back as they could. Numair seemed abstracted, staring at the soldiers with narrowed eyes, then gave a nod as sparkling black fire spread along the sides of the space, thinning into translucency to allow sight and curling around the soldiers. Dragons peered with interest.

 _That is well done, Numair Salmalín._

"Apprentice Ventriaju is very accurate, Lord Rainbow, but generates considerable force, and no test should allow true harm to be done in nervous error. Go ahead, Ventriaju, and show all what you can do."

Ventriaju had sling and stones in those bulging pockets, and soon had the sling whirling. Taren was too far away to see his release, but the effects were evident when the leftmost clay ball exploded into dust, and the stone was caught beyond the targets by Numair's magic to spill onto the raised ground, roll sideways, and with a bizarre series of bounces zig-zag down to thump onto the main level almost at the base of the steps. Two further shots destroyed the other targets, and only with the last did Taren catch even a glimpse of the stone's passage, though the whipping heads of dragons showed keener sight. Applause broke out as Numair nodded to Lord Rainbow, and space recontracted, Ventriaju and the soldiers (looking slightly green) offering bows and thanks to the dragon, who nodded.

 _You are welcome, Apprentice Ventriaju, and to be commended. The sling is an ancient weapon, and to improve it so greatly a rare feat._

"So we thought also, Lord Rainbow." Numair's hand waggled. "Mortals of course lack ogre strength, limiting range as well as force, but where a simple sling will discourage a fox, or a wolf, a webbing-sling might give even a bear or elk painful pause. And for all who dwell where raiders, bandits, or slavers may come, such slings would be a potent as well as a cheap addition to their defences."

Kel nodded. "Indeed, and though cost and so profit will be low, I believe we will sell many. Arrangements will be made so Apprentice Ventriaju receives proper benefits, with Master Numair, who oversaw the work and contributed critical insights, and Quenuresh, who was generous with her spinnerets and knowledge of webbing." Kel turned to offer Quenuresh a bow. "Does any examiner have further questions to ask? Then shield us a moment, Numair, while we confer?"

A sparkling black shield enclosed all the examiners, but only briefly, and Kel smiled warmly at Ventriaju.

"A fine performance, Journeyogre Ventriaju. Congratulations."

Ventriaju's grin was a joy to see, and there was applause and ogric foot-stomping as he shook Kel's hand and received a brooch to indicate his new rank before facing everyone and bowing. Master Kuriaju was waiting, obviously proud of his nephew, and clapped him on the shoulder before escorting him to a place among the other Journeyogres.

 _I call Dragon Apprentice Starcrest to stand forward for examination._

The dragons watched closely as Starcrest, whose crest was indeed an extraordinary white, swooped from the clifftop to land in a fairly confined space. Questions from Kel and Master Valestone tackled the same issues from fresh angles, Numair dealt with magical theory, and Kawit with practical demonstrations. Starcrest had good control of fire and light, could heat stone, hover, and lift objects magically she did not yet control spatial magic, but could displace herself instantaneously from one place to another, and did so to the North Tower roof and back, dragon heads swivelling to watch arrivals and departure. They seemed struck by that ability, but when Kawit asked Var'istaan to stand by and Starcrest to create an icelight with water from the tank into which the spring splashed they really became intent. Taren thought Starcrest took a deep breath before starting, but magic leapt to gather water, bring it to her, and shape it into a torus, before freezing it solid. Var'istaan angled his snout carefully and petrified it, then Starcrest grasped it with one paw and did something that had dragons' heads shooting forward. Ignoring them, Starcrest held the stone circle aloft, turning it in the sunlight now just clearing the fin for a long minute, and holding it low again spread a circle of magic above it to block the light. The torus could be seen to glimmer faintly, and letting the magic vanish she held it out to Kawit, who took it and looked closely.

 _Well and properly done, Starcrest._

Taren heard nothing more, but after a moment Kel, Numair, and Master Valestone all nodded, and Kawit surveyed the assembled dragons.

 _We are satisfied that Dragon Apprentice Starcrest is fit for the rank of Journeydragon of the Guild. What further tests would you make, Rainbow Windheart?_

 _I would examine that icelight, Kawit Pearlscales._

It floated across, and Lord Rainbow lowered his head towards it, Diamondflame and others doing likewise. Magic played around it for a long minute before heads withdrew.

 _That is an entirely spidren way of using magic._

 _It is. Only when the spell is set into petrified ice in that manner does the necessary interference occur, that sunlight is captured. Numair taught us to imitate the spidren way, and set the spell as a web._

 _It is a very odd way of proceeding._

Taren had no idea which dragon had spoken, until Kawit's head turned.

 _It is an effective way of proceeding, Moonwind. Would you have a dragon unwilling to match a mortal mage in so simple a matter?_

 _Would you have a dragon imitating a spidren?_

 _If the result is a working icelight, why not? Especially when the experience of learning to shape magic in a way that does not come easily to dragons teaches a great deal about how to use it exactly as needed. Consider the ground before you._

Something magical happened, and the dragons all stared, though at what Taren hadn't a clue.

 _I have learned from Quenuresh how to web space as I desire, which has its uses, Moonwind. It is more elegant and complex than the parallel spell. It is also interesting to do. You might try it._

 _We all might, Kawit._ That mindvoice had to be Lord Diamondflame's, and Taren saw it hit the crowd. _What matters is that Starcrest is a great deal more mature than she was when she came here. Open yourself to Rainbow, Starcrest, that we may know how you have grown in the Protector's care._

Starcrest stood very straight and multicoloured magic enveloped her, all dragons watching intently. Kel had an expression Taren thought carefully neutral, and he began to wonder if she might wind up scolding dragons as readily as gods. As the magic vanished dragon heads turned to Lord Rainbow, and though he heard nothing it was clear there was a volley of conversation going on, cut short when the elder dragon spoke audibly — or whatever a mindvoice was.

 _This is not the time or place for philosophy. Does any dragon say Starcrest is not fit for the Guild rank she seeks? No? Then we are satisfied, Protector, and you may proceed._

"Thank you, Lord Rainbow." A certain dryness shaded Kel's voice, but vanished as she looked to the waiting candidate. "And congratulations, Journeydragon Starcrest, on a fine performance and your new rank."

Starcrest's relief was evident, and she nodded to Kel and the other examiners. There was no obvious place for her to watch from, until her parents shifted slightly — or created some more space — and presumably said something complimentary, for she was a little pink as she settled in it. Then Kel called Apprentice Dragon Sharpclaw, and the process repeated.

Allowing for varied questions it was similar, but the task Kawit set was to make a hoick'em, rather than an icelight, and though Lord Rainbow looked at it closely the dragons' additional testing was only his magical interrogation, and Sharpclaw passed, as did Longtail and Opaleyes in turn. There was a moment in Longtail's questioning when Kel fixed him with a look and reminded him that while it was bad enough for an apprentice to scare a mule-train, even if led on by someone nearly eighteen centuries younger — she shot a severe glance at Junior, who preened — for a Journeydragon it would be an offence warranting loss of rank and more. Quite how a dragon looked sheepish Taren wasn't sure, but Longtail managed it, avoiding his parents' gazes, and gave what looked very like a sigh of relief when he passed, after a somewhat longer magical examination than the others. There might also have been words from his parents as he settled between them, but besides Lord Rainbow no dragon said anything audible until with lunchtime looming the last test was done. Observing was hungry work, with the emotions involved, but the dragons did not have mortal desires in mind, all eyes remaining on Lord Rainbow, whose head was turned to Lord Diamondflame. After a moment those opaque eyes seemed to rest on Kel.

 _Protector, as Cloestra said, you have a talent for surprise. Many doubted these young dragons could be ready for the rank they have earned, for they were far from it when they came here. We knew Skysong had matured astonishingly in the Mortal Realm, but she has been here since she hatched, and allied with the Godborn and knew also that other immortal young had done well in your care, yet what is that to us? Had we not thought these would prosper here they would not have been allowed to come, but we had no expectation of such rapid progress, and the means are as surprising as the outcome._

"The praise is due to Kawit, my lord, for she has borne responsibility for their tutelage and discipline."

 _Kawit has done much, it is true, but it is your example, with your praises and reproofs, that have driven them so sharply forwards._

"I would hope I played a part, my lord, but surely what has mattered most is simply having a purpose."

 _More than a part, Protector, but you are not wrong. We closed the Dragonlands and shunned the Mortal Realm with good reason, but did not appreciate quite how much it would cost us, as even Moonwind admits._

"War is always hardest on the young, my lord. And Lord Diamondflame will recall darking Trick's explanation of why it wanted to come to the Mortal Realm — 'Fun. Doing. _Helping._ '. I would offend none, but to mortal eyes the truth is that all your young were bored with idleness, and sapped by boredom. They did not have to think beyond or for themselves, and the help they are asked to give here benefits them as much as those who receive it." Kel hesitated, then shrugged. "In future, you might think about proper schooling. Expecting all to learn for themselves doesn't seem to be working so well."

 _Such a mortal practice is not our way, Protector._

Kel's head snapped round to face a pale dragon. "Then, with all respect, Lady Moonwind, perhaps your way needs to change. I once said to spidren Vorgitarl, when he lamented the strains of the new path Quenuresh found for her kind, as I say to you, the Timeway has turned and we must turn with it or fall from it. You who can see it must know that. And though this rock cannot, I know there are eddies of the roil still to pass. Do you think the Dragonlands exempt?"

I _do not, Protector._ Diamondflame's mindvoice was very controlled, but Taren heard satisfaction beneath it. _And Quenuresh and Kawit are correct that although you cannot see the Timeway as we do, you sense it with a clarity I have never before known in a mortal. You stood at the heart of its roil, and it knows you yet. Would you be willing to advise the Dragonmeet on the forms such schooling might take?_

Kel's face was very still, and Taren abruptly realised that even with Lord Diamondflame there was a degree of teasing towards her that came from a desire to enjoy her responses, or to be agreeably surprised. Even for dragons a long life meant deep ruts, and ninety centuries was long indeed. Was that also the gods' attitude? It felt uncomfortably like children prodding a small but aggressive creature with blades of grass to see what it would do. The stillness of Kel's face was broken by the slow rise of one eyebrow.

"I would be honoured to do so, my lord, when time serves, but would point out that if any adult dragon were to undertake sustained observation of the Guild's work here, much would become clearer. As Lady Icefall is likely to be a candidate for Journeydragon next year, perhaps Lord Jadewing might care to consider it."

 _Icefall is nearly ready for this too? But you had her carrying darkings, Protector._

Kel turned to the great green dragon, whose tail had twitched straight with surprise, causing several score observers to duck.

"Do please mind your tail, my lord. Mortals break very easily. And the two go together. Newcome, those darkings need watchful care, and Lady Icefall is one I can trust for that. Lady Skysong has taught her much."

 _Oh. I must talk to them, then. And I don't mind coming if you want, Protector, but I don't know if I'm the right dragon for the task. Others are cleverer than me, and would learn more._

"I think they would learn other, my lord, not more, and that few dragons are as kind or as patient as you, valuable qualities in this task."

 _They are?_

 _I believe so, Jadewing, and we can talk of this at our leisure._

Diamondflame's amusement, if that was the word, had deepened, and Kel had a slight smile, leaving Taren to recall her words about Jadewing being rather literal-minded, and wonder how many levels she and the dragons were really speaking on. Lady Icefall was the youngest dragon apprentice, barring Lady Skysong was it partly that she missed her father more severely than others?

 _As you say, Diamondflame._

Lord Jadewing settled again, tucking his tail carefully around him, and Kel turned back to Lord Rainbow.

"Is there anything else you would say to all, my lord?"

 _Only that we thank you for your care of our young, Protector, and of all dragons._

"All are most welcome, my lord, and it has been a joy to see the young prosper. The only formal business that remains is a request from the stormwing queens to discuss Guild provision of eggwifery, but I believe you and Lord Diamondflame are interested in the new ability to unterrorise that those of the Stone Tree Nation have found."

 _We are, Protector. The changes we saw in Yaman were startling, and today has not lessened our surprise and interest._

"Well and good, my lord, but I propose to hold that discussion after lunch, if you are willing. We mortals need our sustenance, and I believe some among you would be glad of time to speak with sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters."

 _They would, and you direct proceedings here as you will, Protector. But we wish to speak with you, of our young and the service to which the Black God called you of late. Diamondflame and I would also meet Taren and Varia of Stone Mountain, for mortal concern with the songs of stone and fire is a new thing, and Shakith a goddess to be heeded. Perhaps we might do that now._

Taren felt himself stiffen with shock and swallowed, hands seeking Sam's and Var's. He had been trying not to think about hearing a third god's voice, telling himself the prophecy concerned Kel and her successors, not him or his, while another part of his mind was exulting, for if his intuition about giving the Firestone had proven so right, he was walking with the gods, however it might prove deeply unsettling as a reality. Now simpler apprehension gripped him, for Lords Rainbow and Diamondflame were so very … large.

"Surely, my lord. Excuse me a moment." Kel hoisted her voice into command mode, slicing through a buzz of conversation. "Alright, people, that's it. Proceedings are only adjourned, because there are talks to be held this afternoon, but they're not for observers, so thank you all for coming to witness the Guild's various awards, and Lord Taren's gift, and enjoy your lunches, now serving in the messhall. Oh, and don't worry about any distorted space — just walk towards the messhall and you'll get there safe enough, even if your stomachs are lurching a bit."

She trotted down the steps to speak to Dom and Tobe, still festooned with darkings, and Taren heard a soft snort from Neal.

"Even if. Only Kel." Green eyes met his. "Well, that was entertaining. Am I wrong, or did Kel order the dragons to set up a school system?"

"Um, I wouldn't call it an order, Neal. A strong suggestion, perhaps."

"Strong as in having lots of teeth." Neal shook his head. "She did something to Moonwind in Yaman, and doubled it today. But you should go say hello to Rainbow and Diamondflame." He grinned. "It's quite the experience."

"I dare say. Prince Roald seems to want time first, though. And Sir Alanna."

"Paying respects. They met in Yaman, while Kel was off with the Wild Hunt, scooping up Stone Fools to be." Neal laughed, Kel glanced their way, and Lady Yukimi deftly elbowed her husband. "Oof! I only speak truth, my Yamani petal."

"You speak disrespectfully, husband, as often." Lady Yukimi was half-smiling, though, and Lady Ryokel stifling a giggle. "And I should offer my congratulations, Lady Varia, Lord Taren. An heiress of Stone Mountain joining the Craftsbeings' Guild is most interesting news, and the tale of the Firestone Staff already most wonderful."

Lady Yukimi offered an elegant curtsey, returned by Var while Taren and Sam bowed.

"Thank you, my lady. I did enjoy Lady Ryokel's response to the Staff, and she has been very well behaved."

"She's a good girl."

Lady Yukimi beamed, bouncing the happy child on her hip, and Neal grinned again.

"Daren't offend her godsmother, more like. And very sensible of her, too," he added hastily. "We have an exceptionally intelligent daughter."

"Because she is blessed with my brains, not yours."

"Just as she is blessed with your nose, not mine, my Yamani clover blossom. Hyacinth? Sward of Lord Sakuyo's sacred petals? Oof!"

"Please ignore my husband's so improper rudeness, my lords, my lady. He is quite drunk on seeing Kel bowed to by dragons. Not that it was not pleasing, of course, but he is not being helpful, and I believe Roald and Cricket are done, and Alanna only formally introducing her husband and Lord Imrah. You should make your way over."

Taren found himself disinclined to argue, and half-wondered if two large dragons were not the easier proposition. He gathered his wits.

"So we should, Lady Yukimi. Sam, Var."

At some level Taren knew Sam had been steeling himself to be left behind, for he had not been called on during the morning, and Lord Rainbow had not named him, but would have none of it. They were three, always, not two and one. He shepherded both siblings forwards, thinking with amusement that he was Kel's student and Ilane's foster son in more ways than one. He couldn't hear what the dragons were saying, but on the mortal end conversation was more polite than substantive, Lord Imrah having met Lord Diamondflame during the Immortals War. Dom had vanished, no doubt to divest himself of darkings, but Kel and Lady Skysong were waiting, and after congratulating the dragonet, impatient to greet her grandsire, Taren took the chance to look at the Firestone Staff in Kel's hand.

It was bigger than he'd envisaged, a genuine staff, not a sceptre, and the ogre carving was intricate, bands of geometric patterning separating images of the Guild's kinds — ogre, basilisk, spidren, stormwing, darking, dragon, and mortal, with all together in the uppermost, just below Kel's hand. Where she gripped it there was a plain section, lightly crosshatched, with a second two-thirds of the way to the shod tip — just where you would need the other hand to grip if using it as a weapon, and he could imagine Kel's practical insistence that a staff be usable as a staff, whatever else it might be. The Firestone still glowed, but not with its earlier dazzle, and he wondered if it had always had latent magic or if some had been set in it, and if so when. Had that prompted his intuition? He would have asked Kel, but as Sir Alanna, her husband, and Lord Imrah gave bows and stepped back, she grinned at Lady Skysong.

"Go on, Kit. You've been patient, but it'll have to be brief for now."

Whether the dragonet heard the last of that he wasn't sure, for she had already bounced into Lord Diamondflame's welcoming paw, and they were nose to nose. It was a touching sight, but his attention snapped back as Kel spoke.

"Well, it's kind of you to say so, my lord, but it seems only common sense. In any case, you wanted to meet those of Stone Mountain. Allow me to present Lord Taren, Lord Saman, and Lady Varia. Tar, Sam, Var, Lord Rainbow Windheart, eldest, who governs the Dragonmeet."

"My lord."

Taren and Sam bowed, and Var curtsied.

 _Taren, Saman, Varia._ Who knew what those opaque eyes saw? _Mortals are being very interesting in the Time of the Protector. It was ogre Elimiaju who told you of the songs of stone and fire, Taren?_

Stand straight, Kel had said, so Taren did. "It was, my lord, in Corus. He knew I hoped for better relations with, ah, the Protector, and wondered if the resonance of my fief's name with the patterns Bard Olimiariaju had found was more than coincidence."

 _It may be so. Such a roil as has just passed is long in the making. I understand you are at present the youngest lord of Tortall?_

"I am, my lord."

 _Then I would think you were drawn here, where the youngest of many kinds gather._ That was a new idea to Taren. _Did any being prompt you to the gift of the Firestone?_

"No, my lord. I saw it when I took stock of my inheritance, and after my conversation with Journeyogre Elimiaju the name struck me, and the gift seemed right. I did not know it had any magical property, though."

Lord Rainbow extended his head towards the Staff, seeming to smell it, and Kel lifted it to rest across her hands, holding it up.

 _Thank you, Protector._ The head withdrew. _It has taken in the magic of the sunbirds from the light of the icerunes. It is interesting and unusual, but fire ever calls to fire. It may be that Diamondflame—_

He broke off as a call came from the door of Kel's house.

"Lady Kel, king on the spellmirror, urgent!"

"Excuse me."

Still holding the Staff Kel took off at a run, many gazes following her, and Taren felt his gut tighten. His Majesty and Kel spoke regularly, and he was always scrupulous about how important a summons was. _Urgent_ would not used lightly, and Taren had shared something of Kel's sense of a shoe yet to drop. In the meantime he was standing before the eldest dragon.

"Um, is there anything I can get you, my lord, until Ke- the Protector can return?"

 _I need nothing, but thank you for asking. From your look you fear this is a serious matter._

"I do, my lord. The King would not send such a summons without need, and since discovering that ghastly shaman the Protector has wondered if, like other things, the Timeway's eddies come in threes."

 _That may be, also. You witnessed the shaman's death?_

"Sam and I were both there, my lord."

 _Then perhaps you will allow me to read your memories of the events? It is quicker than mortal speech._

That was nothing Taren had expected, and his eyes met Sam's as he swallowed, but Kel's advice had been very clear.

"Ah, of course, my lord. As you will."

 _Thank you._

He didn't see the magic envelop him, but felt it — days since he'd come to New Hope flicking through his mind as if he were a book whose pages Lord Rainbow riffled. Emotions chased memories disorientingly, obscured by others before they could develop, and he felt a little battered as the presence in his mind withdrew, and the magic passed to Sam. Var gripped his hand.

"Are you alright, Tar?"

"I'm good, Var. Just a bit wobbly. It was _very_ odd."

He leaned on her for a moment, but forced strength to his legs so he could support Sam in turn as the magic released him.

 _Thank you. You both did well, and that shaman is fortunate he is already dead._

Lord Rainbow turned to Lord Diamondflame, watching them, as Lady Skysong did from her place in his paw. Sensitised by the magic, Taren was faintly aware of a great wash of power exchanged between the adult dragons, as far beyond a mindvoice as a mountain was beyond a pebble, but it faded as his head cleared. Other dragons were also attending, and new Journeydragons standing between parents, bodies taut. Glancing around, Taren saw things continuing, the queue at the messhall moving, but tension was spreading and expressions increasingly uneasy. He jumped as a horn call from the Eyrie sounded and was repeated, seeing fighting ogres lope towards their barracks, and the Scanrans of the Guard doing likewise. He looked at the dragonet.

"Do you know the meaning of the call, Lady Skysong? I don't recognise it."

 _It summons all soldiers to report for duty, Taren. Something very bad must have happened._

"Then we shouldn't be standing around. Who knows if we'll be needed, Sam, but let's get half-armour and weapons. Var, are you—"

"I'm fine, Tar. Go."

He and Sam went, finding Sir Alanna and Lord Imrah heading for their rooms with the same purpose, though neither knew anything more. Finery was hastily discarded for sturdier wear, and they buckled one another's breastplates, before adding swords to belts Taren chose to carry his helmet, and Sam followed suit. As they made their way more slowly back out, seeing a great bustle of soldiers around the Gatehouse and Var talking to Lords Rainbow and Diamondflame, Vesker found him, also in half-armour, and Taren commended his initiative, telling him to take orders from Lady Kel or Captain Uinse as orders from him.

"Right you are, my lord. 'E don't know what's happening no more than anyone, but 'is darking said someone else needs rescuing."

Taren nodded. "We'll have to wait and see, Vesker. Want to meet dragons?"

"Not much, my lord. They're something else, aren't they?"

"They are. Did you have any trouble with the spatial magic?"

"Only dizziness, my lord, but it cleared when we stopped moving."

"It looked very odd indeed. Ah, here we go."

Kel was moving fast, straight to Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow, and he and Sam broke into a trot, coming up behind her. All dragons were intent, as were immortals on the terrace. Two of the hounds came bounding down, and Taren recognised Wuodan and Frige.

"I'm afraid all bets are off, my lords. Princess Lianne was travelling to Cría, to meet Prince Loup — a marriage alliance has been proposed — and her party was attacked. She's been seized by a Lord Biron, and is being held at his fortified town, Aussonne, on the Upper Drell. She has a pocket spellmirror Numair boosted, and managed to contact the king. I need to call out haMinch and other troops, and mount a full-scale expedition, which will take weeks at least." Kel took a deep breath, and looked at Lord Diamondflame. "Unless. I know better than to ask you to fight, and would not do so anyway, but transport? One of your gateways to Aussonne?"

 _Perhaps. When would you want to go, Protector?_

"In about an hour, my lord."

 _An hour? You will not have sufficient supplies so soon, and I would not leave you stranded in war._

"We won't need supplies, my lord. It'll take an hour or so there, and we can come back. If you're willing."

 _An hour?_ Taren wondered when Lord Diamondflame had last repeated himself. _You said it was a fortified town._

"Yes. Stone. And I have basilisks. If we can get there, we'll punch straight through. All I want is Princess Lianne and her retinue."

Lord Diamondflame cocked his head. _The basilisks are willing to be used thus?_

"Oh yes. They wouldn't attack people, and I wouldn't ask them to, but levelling a curtain-wall to free a Conté princess? Not a problem, I promise. We've discussed such a need. And my fighting ogres and Scanrans give me a strike force Lord Biron's surviving men are not going to want to engage."

 _Protector, you are being very interesting yet again. Wuodan, this is within god Weiryn's lands. Would you or he object?_

 _I don't, Diamondflame, and if Weiryn does he can say so himself._

 _Very well, then. But I cannot open a gateway to somewhere I do not know, so I will need to be at the other end. What can you tell me of this Aussonne, Protector? There is a lot of the Upper Drell._

Kel's relief was palpable. "Thank you." She raised a hand to touch Lord Diamondflame's lowered snout, and became brisk. "Main branch of the Upper Drell, about seventy miles north of the confluence with the Middle Drell. Backed against the river at the mouth of a wide valley, so the walls are a rough D-shape. Central keep on the river. Population of twelve or fifteen hundred. Ebony can relay a drawing the King had."

 _I have it._

"Put us a half-mile from the main gate?"

 _Certainly. Where should the gateway open at this end?_

"Great North Road, five hundred yards north of the Stone Bridge."

 _Have Rainbow or Wingstar stand with you at the head of your column. In an hour, then, Protector._

"You use the spiral spell, Diamondflame?"

Queen Barzha was hovering, and Lord Diamondflame looked up.

 _I do, Barzha. Would you come?_

"We would." The Queen's head swung to her guests. "I regret the cause, but it is good that you will see the Protector in action. There will be rich feeding too."

 _The more the merrier._ Lord Diamondflame mindvoice was very dry. _Come then. Haste is needed._

Taren stepped back as the great blue-black dragon rose, but he cleared his own way, a corridor of space opening to the eastern alure, from which he launched himself, wings beating to bring him into a tight climbing spiral. Stormwings exploded into the air after him, Cloestra and the younglings among them, and downdrafts swirled. Taren dragged his attention back to earth as Kel started to swing away, pausing when Lady Skysong bounced to attention in front of her.

 _We would learn much observing, Kel._

" _Observing?_ " Kel didn't throw up her hands, quite, but Taren found his sympathies torn. The dragonet was wheedling when time was short, but he would like to observe himself. "You want to use a dragon gateway, Kit, ask the dragon. If Rainbow allows it, go ahead, but you make sure you're safe. I don't need anyone else to rescue today."

Then she was gone, striding past the dragonet, telling a sparrow scouting would not be required, and calling Dom, Sir Alanna, and Lord Imrah to join her. Lady Skysong whirled to face Lord Rainbow, and from somewhere Lady Icefall popped up eagerly beside her, while the new Journeydragons all fell in behind the pair. Other dragons peered at Lord Rainbow, who rested his head on his crossed paws, considering the quivering dragonets before him, and Taren stifled a smile, noticing that other immortals were not bothering to do so. Kawit came down from the terrace to stand beside Lady Skysong.

 _I know, Rainbow, but educational covers it, I believe. Once Diamondflame opens a gateway I could open my own, but if I use yours I will watch the young, mortal and immortal alike._

 _I suspect you will have other things to watch, Kawit, and that there will be other watchers. War has always been a spectacle, but this bids fair to set a new mark._

 _So much the better, surely? I need not fly to know this is a strong eddy, any more than you need sight. And the Protector yet rides the Timeway we only observe._

 _So she does, though all is so hasty._

 _Haste matters in mortal affairs, Rainbow, and not only because they lack our centuries. The Protector knows what it is to be female in a male's power, as neither you nor I can. If this Biron has harmed the princess, he will meet the Black God's judges this day. In Yaman she needed you to execute her justice. Today she needs only access to the place of injustice. All_ should _attend, and learn._

Lord Rainbow slowly nodded. _You see clearly, Kawit. Very well. Those who would come to observe, immortal or mortal, organise yourselves, that we know how large a gateway will be needed._

The next forty minutes were madness. Very many people wanted to go, and in the absence of Kel and Sir Alanna no-one could actually say 'no' to Prince Roald, though both Dukes and Baron George tried hard, and Duchess Wilina was close to distraught. General Vanget only shook his head, saying they'd never persuade him when his sister was involved, and, collectively deciding they had to accompany him, a squad of the King's Own from the Prince's escort was summoned and told to prepare. Prince Roald then found himself trying just as unavailingly to say 'no' to his Princess, while Neal didn't bother, only looking at Lady Ryokel, for whom a maid was promptly called. Kel, Sir Alanna, and Lord Imrah (with Squire Lachran) were huddled with basilisks, Numair and other Guild mages, fighting ogres, armoured spidrens, samurai, and Scanrans, clearly not to be disturbed, so when Taren saw Master Sternross and Lord Avinar arguing theology still in their finery, and realised they too were intent on bearing witness, he made his way to Lord Rainbow with a simple question, received the answer he'd wanted in what he thought was a tone of approval, and took a deep breath before bellowing for attention.

"Your Royal Highnesses, Your Graces, my lords and ladies, masters and mistresses. However we all hope this goes as swiftly as Lady Keladry believes possible, we go to witness combat, and anyone who heads for a battle without armour or weapons is a fool. By Lord Rainbow's fiat, no-one without armour will pass the dragon gateway, and as the rock spell and who knows what other magic will be used, anyone without a horse trained to such things is on foot."

"Quite right." General Vanget swept everyone with a glare. "Is Lord Taren the only person here with any sense at all?"

As he and Sam already had half-armour on, they had only to procure a cuirass and helmet for Var, which Vesker managed readily while she changed. Some could fetch their own, but Taren spoke to Captain Uinse on behalf of the apprentice branch supervisors, who might learn a lot, while for Master Sternross and assorted Mindelans there was a deal of rushing and wheedling before Piers put his foot down, forbidding grandchildren without their own armour to hand — neatly excluding all but Tobe and Squire Lachran. Dom's father, Lord Thomas, did much the same, though Lady Elisa and their two elder sons, Gregor and Samuel, were not to be gainsaid. Sulking youngsters were despatched to the sidelines with brisk orders to be useful or keep out of the way, but even Piers could not stop Ilane from donning a cuirass and fetching her glaive.

"I fight better than you anyway, Piers, and it's not just that, nor curiosity. Think of Lianne and her ladies. And has anyone told Jonathan what's happening, or did Kel just leave him dangling in the mirror?"

It turned out Dom had kept the king up to date, if tersely, and would remain to pass on a running darking relay. Tobe was coming, however, and having seen to Kel's weapons and horse was placed firmly in Piers's charge. Dom also explained to a concerned Piers and Lord Ferghal that Kel had been authorised to use army troops in Galla as needed, while the samurai and armoured spidrens insisted they were charged by His Imperial Majesty to aid in any emergency, and should act against anyone, Gallan or otherwise, who had stolen a Conté Princess. Kel had nevertheless unilaterally inducted them all into the Guild as temporary members, and declared the whole a Guild matter as it had interrupted Guild business. Piers blew out a dubious breath, and the legal and diplomatic complexities struck Taren hard — one might call it invasion, an act of war, but then so was royal kidnap, and he didn't think King Lewis or Prince Loup would be arguing about a successful rescue assuming they were not complicit — for if they were there would probably be a war anyway, though with whom, exactly, remained oddly moot. And whatever the mortal tangle of Tortallan, Scanran, and Yamani troops, immortals were getting involved as well : Quenuresh was curious, and so were many ogres as well as the hounds. Then Duchess Wilina saw Lady Yukimi in armour and began to pitch a fit, but was firmly cut off.

"Esteemed mother of my husband, please _think_. We will be with very many dragons, never mind a score of the Wild Hunt. We will not be attacked. And Keladry- _sensei_ is making history again, before our eyes. I am not at all sure Ryokel will be quick to forgive us when she realises what she is being excluded from, especially on her birthday, but I leave her in your care."

"But Yukimi, it's madness to go like this!"

"No, it is Keladry- _sensei_. And Honoured Ilane is correct that Her Royal Highness will need the company of women as soon as may be, even if she is personally unharmed." The Duchess paled. "Now we must be ready to go. Time presses, and Keladry- _sensei_ comes."

Kel did, sweeping the assembly with a fulminating glance checked by Tobe telling her Alder was all set, and asking how much armour she wanted. Shaking her head, she settled for half-armour and bascinet, and let him do the buckling before ruffling his hair.

"Thank you, Tobe. Be safe. Everyone, keep your wits about you and for the love of all gods keep out of the way. Lord Rainbow, the military column will be assembled on the Road shortly."

 _We will be there, Protector._

Then all was movement, seemingly chaotic but underlyingly disciplined. Fledged dragons left via the alures, as Lord Diamondflame had, while the unfledged, with Kawit, many other immortals, and assorted mortals trotted out and down in the wake of Kel's column — herself, flanked by Sir Alanna and Lord Imrah, with Squire Lachran, Scanrans, samurai, mages, and six squads of archers from New Hope First and Second, led by Sir Voelden, all mounted, with basilisks and fighting ogres running and armoured spidrens scuttling behind, the flicker of their blades at once fascinating and repellent. Emerging from the Gatehouse Taren could see adult dragons assembled on the Road, and if descending was easy enough, on the flat he felt sweat starting he and Sam had to help Var, unused to armour, to keep up. Tobeis, he saw, ran easily carrying Piers's helmet as well as his own, as Sir Inness carried Ilane's. Lord Ferghal and General Vanget had no problems, but Master Sternross and Lord Avinar were gasping by the time they pulled up, and cast angry looks at Sir Anders, who rode up with a groom, dismounted, and sent the groom back with his horse.

"You know I can't run with my leg, Avinar. You just wish you'd thought of riding this far, when you should be thinking that you've let yourself get badly out of shape."

Lord Avinar looked indignant, but Taren saw Piers and Ilane suppress smiles, and it was true that despite Piers's portliness and Lord Avinar's gauntness father had done better than son. Several dragons, including Lord Jadewing, were spreading to form a line a good fifty yards long, and Lord Rainbow's mindvoice commanded those not fighting to form a broad front. Hounds led the way, and as Taren ushered Sam and Var sideways magic bloomed and a glittering archway appeared, at first spanning the road, then enlarging. Glitter faded and what had to be Galla showed in the opening, a vista of a rutted track, aligned with the Great North Road, that led towards tall grey walls and a barbican above which stormwings circled — a view swiftly obscured as Kel led the column through and dust rose in its wake. Then all were jogging forward, and he felt a strange tingle as he passed under the arch, finding long grass under his feet as he registered a sky as cloudless as at New Hope but air that was distinctly cooler with a slight breeze. Lord Diamondflame, on the other side of the road, was looking at the arriving crowd with an expression Taren couldn't read, though mingled exasperation and amusement might cover it, and it changed as adult dragons began stepping through and the air became charged with their conversation. He checked Sam, Var, and Tobeis, then Vesker and his men, and after a second's thought told Vesker to join the King's Own squad and form a perimeter. The sweating sergeant commanding the royal squad seemed thankful, and soldiers spread out to encircle the motley party, drawing amused looks from immortals and grateful ones from mortals, suddenly conscious of what they were about and where they now stood.

The breadth of the arch meant all had come through surprisingly quickly, and after a sweeping survey by Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow it began to close, shrinking towards a point. Before it could vanish a small tawny form swept through, swooping upwards again, and blue-black magic crackled, snapping Junior out of the air and depositing him in front of an enraged Lord Diamondflame, head dipping to within an inch of the griffin's as the world quivered. When it stilled Junior was a blanched white, and leaped backwards to dash behind Tobe's legs and crouch, trembling. Lord Diamondflame glared after him, and Tobe, eyebrows high, turned to consider the young immortal, before reaching down to haul him up by the scruff of the neck, and look him in the eye.

"Now that's no way to behave, Junior. I don't know how you offended Diamondflame, but you shouldn't run away. Straighten up, and tell him you're sorry. Oh yes, you will, and right now."

Tobe crossed the road, holding Junior up to face the great dragon. What a griffin apology might be like was anyone's guess, but after a long moment of eye contact Tobe set Junior down, telling him to stay at heel or else, and Lord Diamondflame sighed.

 _I begin to see what the Protector means about that one. One half-second later and half of him would have been here, the other half yet at New Hope, and all of him thoroughly dead._

"Well, it didn't happen, fortunately, and he's properly abashed, my lord. Where should we go?"

 _You grow as sensible as your mother, Tobeis. There is a ridge to the north that will afford a proper view. If all head that way we will hasten your steps, for the Protector is not dawdling._

Tobe turned, saw everyone was watching him, and pointed. "You heard him, gentlebeings. We go that way, now."

And they did, at astonishing speed, for each step covered a great deal more ground than it ought. It wasn't quite the seven-league boots of the old tale, but close enough that a bare minute saw them spreading out along the top of the ridge — a steep, grassy down dotted with trees. The mass of dragons anchored one end of the line, clustering around Lord Rainbow, then other immortals, hounds interspersed with more arriving from thin air, and bunched mortals, while Lord Diamondflame anchored the other. Lady Skysong bounced across to sit between him and Tobe, peering at a chastened Junior, and Taren had to stifle a laugh when he heard Tobe tell her that further scolding would not help and she couldn't yet match her grandsire in that department anyway. He rather thought Lord Diamondflame told her to hush as well, and his attention swung out to the valley and fortified town below.

The defences were substantial, crenellated walls in a forbidding dark stone curving from smaller towers on the riverbank at either end to a four-stage barbican. He could just make out heads peering through crenels, and the gates were firmly shut, surrounding fields deserted, abandoned carts and lowing oxen indicating rapid flight — not surprisingly when Lord Diamondflame and a stormwing nation appeared from nowhere. More disturbingly, by the road leading north along the river a body dangled from a gibbet, swaying in the breeze. Within the walls crowded rooves revealed from this height an irregular grid, a central way running from the gate to a walled enclosure by the river with an elevated great house, and side-streets projecting from it. Above the great house and barbican flags bore a river dolphin hauriant.

Kel's column had halted about two hundred yards from the gates, and basilisks with mages were deploying into line, archers forming a second line behind them and dismounting to nock longbows, heads turning as they scanned crenels. It would be a long shot, but Taren could see the gleam of griffin fletching. The formation momently resembled a crossbow, the column as stock and bolt, mages and basilisks as the lath, archers the string ready to fire the bolt it was fanciful but not false, and when he mentioned it to Sam and Var he found Piers and Ilane listening too, with Masbolles and others beyond.

"May the bolt fly true and be in time, Taren." Piers's voce was tense. "I only hope we're not starting a war."

"I think we're ending one Lord Biron already started." Taren shrugged. "Kel's aiming to make it the shortest war in history."

"Huh. That's a more comforting view."

 _And a wise one._ Lord Diamondflame's head began to turn towards him but suddenly swung the other way. _Gods are coming, not before time._

Taren blinked but there wasn't time to parse that judgement as silver flared beyond the dragon, spreading along the ridgeline as gods stepped into the world — many gods, and varied. Taren couldn't see clearly, but there were animals, horse, cat, and bear, an antlered figure who must be Lord Weiryn with the Green Lady, others shining beyond, and closest to Lord Diamondflame a warrior in half-armour, dark skin gleaming, the Great Goddess beside him and both looking up at the dragon.

"What are you about, dragon Diamondflame, to call us here?"

Taren had heard the sound behind that voice before, a distant fury of battle, or not so distant, and was suddenly very glad it was not addressing him, but Lord Diamondflame's reply was unruffled.

 _I am about nothing, god Mithros. We merely facilitate a Guild proceeding to recover a kidnapped princess. And I did not summon you, but only thought you might wish to see the Protector at work, for it seems she is about to be very interesting indeed._

"Again?"

But Lord Mithros turned, folding his arms as he stared down. The basilisks and mages were fully deployed, archers behind them and the column still, while Kel rode forward alone towards the gate and stormwings circled lower and lower. Taren knew bowing was superfluous in this moment, but went to one knee for a second, head lowered, before rising again to look out. Piers and Ilane followed suit, with others, but Lord Avinar stayed down, and to his consternation Master Sternross was stumbling forwards, face exalted as he stared at Lord Mithros. An alarmed Piers reached to grasp the mage's sleeve but was shaken off, and Taren wondered if the man even saw Lord Diamondflame as he crossed under the dragon's head and fell prostrate at the god's feet with a low moan, his helmet rolling away. Lord Mithros glanced down, one eyebrow high, and stopped the helmet with a sandalled foot.

"Your timing is reason enough to deny you, whoever you are. And how do you suppose you're going to see anything grovelling like that?"

A nasty silence in which Master Sternross moved not one inch was broken by Piers's breathed "Oh _dear_ ". Taren found a desire to laugh threading through exaltation and nerves, and grabbed Sam's hand.

"Come on, Sam, we're closest. Do please excuse us, Lord Diamondflame."

Without looking round the dragon pulled his paws back slightly, and Taren nodded as he led Sam past them.

"Thank you, my lord." He went to one knee, pulling Sam down, bent his head, and stood, pulling Sam up again as he met the god's eyes, where stars wheeled and lightning flickered. He swallowed. "Lord Mithros, I believe Master Sternross is overcome with piety in your presence. Please forgive him. Take his other arm, Sam."

They hauled the elderly mage up, and Taren saw his face was slack, eyes unfocused.

"I told you impropriety could be pious, Master Sternross." Sam shot him a nervy, exhilarated grin. "Come on, now."

"Here, take this too. I don't suppose it was meant as an offering, and if it was I don't want it."

Taren, ears ringing, found he was being given the mage's helmet, and freed a hand to take it.

"Thank you, my lord."

With an awkward half-bow to the god he helped Sam turn the mage, and they more than half carried him back past Lord Diamondflame as Lord Mithros's voice again rang in his ears.

"More mortals who are both polite and sensible. Wonders never cease."

 _The Protector has been training them up. Even so, they cannot see or hear as you and I can. Will you aid them, or shall I?_

"Aid … Oh, why not? They might as well enjoy what they came for."

Taren's desire to laugh intensified as he saw mortal expressions — not only Lord Avinar's horrified wonder, but Prince Roald's wide eyes and half-open mouth, Princess Shinkokami's intense stillness, Lady Yukimi stifling a giggle, Lord Thomas and Lady Elisa gaping, Neal's and Baron George's eyes narrowed in appreciation, Lord Ferghal's bushy eyebrows almost at his hairline, and, heartstoppingly, the pride on Vesker's face. He doubted Master Sternross could stand unaided, and with a word to Sam set the helmet down and they deposited him on it, keeping him upright with fingers hooked round the edges of his ill-fitting cuirass. Duke Baird came to stand by them, resting a hand filled with green fire on the old man's head for a moment, and shrugged.

"A slight apoplexy, I think, or just overcome. Nothing to be done, in any case. Can you mind him, Lord Taren?"

Taren nodded, Duke Baird returned to stand by Neal and Lady Yukimi, and Taren looked out again to see a great window had opened in the air before them, within which a magnified Kel was just pulling up on Alder, her head raised to a man leaning through the nearest crenel to the right of the barbican, his eyes flickering between her and the ridgeline. The blank face must conceal nervousness, even if he hadn't realised massed gods were watching, but there was something about him that made Taren think of Joren — though whether that was his own perception or a power of the window he couldn't tell.

"Who commands at the gates of Aussonne?"

Kel spoke in Common and the reply matched her.

"That would be me."

"And you are, sir?"

"Etenne of Aussonne, commanding my brother's Guard."

"We come to reclaim Her Royal Highness Princess Lianne of Conté, Lord Etenne, and any kidnapped with her. Surrender them at once, unharmed, and all may live save any who have laid hands on her."

Kel's voice rang loud, clear, and implacable, and Lord Etenne's eyes narrowed as he forced a sneer into a voice more ragged than he'd wish.

"How kind of you, whoever you are. Do you suppose we went to all that trouble for nothing?"

"Guildmaster Countess Keladry of New Hope and Mindelan." It could hardly be anyone else, but the title Kel had claimed mattered, giving the Guild priority without forgoing her Tortallan rank. "And as you admit Princess Lianne's presence, so you admit your capital crime. Did you suppose the Guild would do nothing? Surrender her and all seized with her, now, or face immediate and final punishment."

A genuine puzzlement flickered on Lord Etenne's face but he reinforced his sneer. "Big title for a woman. We didn't expect basilisks, I grant you, nor anyone quite so soon, never mind your precious guild, but you might notice our walls are already stone, as I notice you don't have anything like the forces you need. Besides, my brothers and I don't much care for surrendering anything, so you can go whistle."

"Wrong. Basilisks shatter stone as readily as they make it. Your walls will be down in minutes. Last chance. The Princess, now."

Doubts chased over his face before it hardened again. "So you say. Dragons might have got you here, girlie, but they're staying out of it, and those lesser immortals will fall to our crossbows as readily as you will if you don't leave as fast as you came."

"Fool. The dragons but open the way, of their grace, that I may act." Kel's voice was as flat as her roads, and she cast it more widely. "Men of Aussonne, if you would live flee your alures and barbican now, before they fall. You will have no further warning, and your time is short."

She turned Alder, trotting back towards the head of the column, and as Lord Etenne stared after her in bafflement, other faces peering from crenels, one arm waved basilisks and mages forward, archers advancing behind them. They stopped with the basilisks only fifty yards from the walls, and magic glittered in a great sheet, dominated in the middle by Numair's sparkling black but shading into other colours along its length, which angled and tautened, at once shielding basilisks and mages from any fire the archers didn't discourage, and sliding forwards to rest on the walls about four feet above the ground. A second sheet could be made out underneath it, touching the wall perhaps eighteen inches lower, and spreading back and slightly up towards the basilisks. As soon as both were in position they pulsed, and from a score of open snouts the shrieking avalanche of the melting spell thrashed the air, rippling the sheet into coruscating colours but held and focused, and going on and on. Like every mortal, even dazed Master Sternross, Taren had his hands clapped to his ears, feeling his bones vibrate, and was left half-deafened when the sound abruptly cut off and the sheets of magic contracted, reforming into a thick protective barrier. For a long second nothing seemed to happen, then stone squirted out all along the base of the walls and barbican and with a tired sigh that became a thundering rumble what had been above the melted stone began to fall, much as Master Sternross had, lower courses kneeling by the wall's foot and upper ones with crowning merlons arcing down to pock the earth. The ground shook, dust billowed in a boiling mass, and Taren's breath caught as stones and whirling men hurtled out of it, crashing to shattered ruin, among them Lord Etenne, dead face incredulous. The Black God would be busy, and knowing most of the dead were as much victims of their lord as Princess Lianne, he spoke a short prayer for their souls, pitying the terrified surprise they must have known at their abrupt and incredible ends even as he truly grasped the burden Kel bore. Beside him Sam and Var joined his 'So mote it be', Piers and Ilane echoing them.

"He cares for all the souls Kel sends him, Taren." Ilane didn't look round. "It's part of their deal. That's why she makes a point of burying without rites when she _really_ doesn't like what someone's done. Oh! Now that's neat."

As the rumble faded the sheet of magic swiftly rose in a great curve before flattening to the ground and clearing most of the dust. The walls had been thick, and not everything had fallen : the front face had gone, and most of the fill had slumped, but the back face largely remained, with the rear half of the barbican no-one could be seen on any wall, but its now tattered stages each held shocked survivors, pressed against rear walls and blinking in the light. Kel's voice rose, still flat and implacable even as she offered mercy of a sort.

"Surviving men of Aussonne, you have one minute before the rest of that barbican comes down. Even jumping is better than falling. Go."

The last word was a cracked command to cut through shock, and men stirred, swirling towards corner doors where a staircase must remain. By the time Taren's mental count reached sixty none were still visible, but Kel gave it another ten before raising an arm towards Numair. Once again sheets of magic curled out, targeting the cloven barbican with the walls immediately beside it, and the basilisks roared, their spell drilling into mortal ears as into stone. Taren pressed his hands tightly, wondering if second use allowed them to adjust for greater efficiency : certainly the spell was shorter, stone jetted rather than squirted, and the upper courses fell straight down, dust again billowing violently before magic slapped it to earth. Without an order being given that Taren heard, mages and basilisks gathered in front of Kel, and this time the sheets of magic formed a flattened funnel as wide as the roadway. With all basilisks focusing on such a small area chunks of fallen rubble swiftly slumped into sludge that oozed and levelled — some basilisks switching to resetting it as a third sheet of magic extended, dividing the funnel horizontally, while the rest continued to melt forwards.

 _Now_ that _is cleverly done. The Protector said she had discussed the need for such action with the basilisks, but to achieve such fluency in first practice is very fine._

"Oh she's nothing if not thorough." Lord Mithros sounded far more cheerful than he had, the clashing arms behind his voice very distant, and Taren looked sideways to see a reluctantly admiring smile on the god's face. "And so very respectful, except when she isn't. It's how she manages to be so impetuous at the same time that's the puzzle."

 _She is of the roil, long years in the making and filled with sudden currents in the being. And she is full young, despite all._

"She merely sees no reason for needless delay." Hounds belled behind the voice of the Great Goddess, and Master Sternross started. "You might try it, brother."

Taren glanced at Lady Skysong, seeing her eyes narrow, and was saved from open laughter only by the hand clawing at his arm. He looked into the old mage's bewildered eyes.

"Who was that, my lord? Who spoke so fairly?"

"The Great Goddess, Master Sternross." Mischief plucked at him. "She advises her brother Lord Mithros to take a leaf from Lady Keladry's book."

"Eh?"

"Think about it, watch what's happening, and hush."

"What is it with pious old men?" Ilane's voice was soft and wondering. "He's Lord Hidetaki all over again."

"I'm a pious old man, my dear, but I take your point." Piers's reply was just as soft, and Taren strained to hear while he tracked basilisks, whose impromptu roadway through the ruins was nearly done, and stormwings circling tightly above, consuming what must be an astonishing meal. "As Unferth was to Blayce, perhaps, in some small way. Kel is forever saying the Timeway likes its echoes. Here we go again."

The last echoes of the basilisks' spells died away and most withdrew with the mages, clearing the road before the column two remained — Var'istaan and Spir'aan, Taren thought. Rubble was still heaped on either side, but a wide and level, if elevated, way ran cleanly through it to the main street beyond, itself arrow-straight to the gates of the great house. Kel's arm chopped down, and the column went to a canter, Sir Alanna and Lord Imrah with Squire Lachran behind her as the two basilisks bracketed her, Scanrans and ogres moving up into flanking lines. The view in the window moved with them, and at each side-street a samurai, an armoured spidren, and a fighting ogre peeled off to stand across it, drawn swords, glaive blades, and sledgehammer heads gleaming. Beside him he heard Sam's hum of appreciation.

"She's saving lives again, Tar. You might attack ordinary soldiers, but anyone's going to think twice about mixing it with one of those trios."

The side-streets offered glimpses of staring people, drawn from their homes by the noise, recoiling as the ogre in each trio bellowed words of warning and reassurance — stand back and take no harm, we come only to reclaim those wrongly seized. For the final three side-streets, when the last samurai-and-spidren pair had been deployed, their places were taken by Scanrans bracketing an ogre, double axes gleaming, and Taren realised silence was gripping the town, a faint clamour he'd barely registered dying away, and with it any thought of resistance. He doubted it was much more than five minutes since Kel had warned them of imminent assault, and already the town was hers — saving only the great house, its squat gatehouse now in view. Dark wooden gates had been pushed shut, but the basilisks flanking Kel raced forwards, and the rock-spell thrashed the air. Light grey flashed across the dark panels, and the basilisks added a saw-toothed shriek to their song that had him clapping hands to ears once more as the gates shivered and exploded inwards in hundreds of fragments.

Taren glanced sideways as Tobe nodded satisfaction, seeing that Junior had recovered some colour and was watching alertly.

"Yes! Wood would take time to hew, but make it stone and they can blow it away. I heard Ma and Var'istaan talk about doing that."

 _And whose idea was it, Tobeis?_

"Ma's." The boy glanced up at the dragon, grinning as his unbroken voice dropped to a register nearer Kel's. "Can you make it a light, brittle stone that another spell or a sledgehammer could shatter? Right, then. Next problem?"

 _She really does think well. This is by far the most efficient mortal assault I have ever seen._

Lord Mithros gave what Taren would have to call a snort, however distant battle sounded behind it, but his attention remained on the window, where Kel and the column had not even slowed as they swept through the abruptly open gate. Soldiers behind it had been bowled over by exploding stone, some unconscious, others cut and bruised Kel and the column ignored them, and the only one who tried to stagger to his feet was sent sprawling by a tap from a passing ogre's sledgehammer. The last two ogres peeled off to stand in the gateway, one cheerfully informing the sprawled that they could stay down and live or be silly and die, and by then Kel was swinging off Alder at the foot of five broad and shallow steps leading to the main door of the house. It was being pushed shut, a natural if pointless reaction, and basilisks would not be needed, for an ogre took the steps in a single bound, sledgehammer swinging to strike with tremendous force directly above the handle. The door cracked back, hurling aside the men who'd been closing it as hinges started from their mounts, and the ogre sprang through, Kel on his heels, glaive in hand, Sir Alanna, Lord Imrah, and Squire Lachran right behind, swords drawn, and more ogres and Scanrans pouring after them.

Once inside Kel slowed for the first time, scanning the space, and the image in the window showed all. The door-closers had been two armoured soldiers, both down and out, slumped against the wall an elderly servant in dolphin-sigil livery stood in shocked immobility some yards away, while other faces peered from doorways. Kel considered him.

"Your name and position, sir?"

Her voice was still flat with rage, still implacable, brooking no defiance, yet not unkind, for this man too was an innocent.

"Ja- Jacques, my lady. Deputy Steward."

"Good. Where is Princess Lianne of Conté?"

"First floor, east wing, my lady. My lord's up there now."

"And her retinue?"

"Rooms alongside her. The soldiers are locked in the cellars."

"All their horses are in the stables here?"

"They are, my lady."

"Right. Your lord commits high treason and an act of war. If you and his other servants would live and be free of penalty from the House of Conté, get those in the cellars free and all horses saddled, with their property where it ought to be. Imrah, please see that they do. Moriaju, Ameriaju, Paliaju, be his muscle. Eskvar, Lars, Wulf, with them in case mortal size is needed. Everyone else with me, upstairs."

Even as she spoke Kel was moving again, and the window followed her though Lord Imrah could be heard giving servants and Squire Lachran crisply polite orders about what would be done in what order. At the staircase two Scanrans leaped ahead of her, and where it divided, east and west, one remained at the perron, guarding the west stair, while the other went east and Kel followed. An armoured guard stood at the top, sword in hand, but when he saw the Scanran's axes and the ogres behind Kel he stood hastily back, dropping his sword behind him and keeping his hands wide. The Scanran shot him a disdainful look, and Kel paused.

"Second sensible man I've met here. Princess Lianne?"

"Down there." He pointed to a corridor. "If you'll let me?"

Kel cocked her head slightly, and the guard shuffled sideways a few paces, hands still wide, so he could be seen from the corridor.

"We have _no_ chance, Gillan, Havnor. Down arms, now, and get back."

"Use whatever authority you have to make sure others stand down, and send them to help the servants free those in the cellars, saddle horses, and assemble all stolen property. Ogres, in pairs to open all doors. _Don't_ hurt anyone inside, and get all freed down and out."

Kel was already moving, the Scanran ahead of her, and two ogres, ducking under a ceiling too low for them, slid past Sir Alanna to flank her. Down the corridor guards standing by a door, presumably Gillan and Havnor, stared and hastily laid down weapons, backing away. Kel ignored them, tried the handle, and slammed her fist against the wood.

"Princess Lianne?"

" _Yes?_ "

The voice was muffled.

"Stand clear of the door."

" _I am. Get away!_ "

The last was a shriek.

"Ogres, open it _now_."

Kel stood aside, and the ogres swiftly positioned themselves to swing their sledgehammers with great control. Each struck the door just by one hinge, driving it back an inch or more, and one promptly struck a second blow directly above the handle before the second slung an arm around its neck and jumped, feet lashing out to strike the door above its central panel and crash it flat — the ogre following through to land on it inside the room. A thin scream rose from a man under it, but all eyes were on the chamber itself — a disordered bedroom, ornate bed pulled askew with Princess Lianne behind it, dress torn, and on the near side a staring, richly dressed man with a badly scratched face, one heavily bandaged hand, and a dagger in the other.

"Lord Biron, I presume?"

The man drew himself up. "Yes. Who the—"

His words were cut off as Kel spun her glaive, the butt cracking into his head. He fell like a stone.

"Your Royal Highness, are you alright?"

" _Keladry?_ Gods! How … I …" The Princess took a deep breath. "Yes. I wasn't … hurt, though _he_ tried." She gestured to the fallen lord. "And they hanged Anna because she cut him defending me. My Lady-in-Waiting, Anna of Nicoline."

Taren heard a sound of both relief and sorrow he thought was Prince Roald as Kel's voice sliced the air.

"Esmond's sister?"

"Yes. Master Fellon's dead too — shot down from cover when the attack started. _He_ did that. Biron's brother Julian. He was _boasting_ about his shot."

She pointed to the man crushed by the door. Sir Alanna had two ogres shift it, and knelt by the moaning figure.

"He's a goner, Kel. Back broken and ribs crushed, sticking into everything. Mercy stroke?"

There was a crackling silence for a few seconds, in which Taren could hear sledgehammers thudding in the corridor, before Kel nodded.

"By rights he should hang, Alanna, but if there's no point trying the Black God can deal with him now. Pain serves no-one. I just wish it didn't fall to me."

"It doesn't, Lady Kel." The moaning was cut off as an ogre dropped a sledgehammer on Lord Julian's head. "What about the other one?"

Princess Lianne had blanched and Kel closed her eyes for a second, but when she opened them again her gaze was level.

"Wait, Seniaju. But thank you." Her head turned. "Yes or no, Your Royal Highness, on your honour. Lord Biron tried to rape you, Anna defended you, and for slicing his hand was hanged by his direct order."

"Yes. Last night. They made me watch, and left her hanging for the crows, Black God curse them all."

"He curses none, but his judges will not look kindly on them. Bring him, Seniaju. He hangs this hour. Your Royal Highness, gather anything that is yours, and swiftly. We need to be gone. Alanna, check that everyone who should be is free and heading out?"

"On it, Kel."

Sir Alanna ducked out of the gaping doorway, voice cracking, and the Princess grabbed a shawl and pointed to a trunk.

"They gave me my personal baggage but I didn't unpack."

Kel didn't need to give orders. Two Scanrans grabbed the trunk and swung out, and Kel nodded.

"Let's go. Horses should be waiting, or we'll double up as needed." She slung an arm around the Princess's shaking shoulders. "Hang on a bit longer, Your Royal Highness. Tell me what happened?"

Doing so kept the Princess occupied as Kel steered her out, Scanrans and ogres before and behind. The corridor was full of maids and male servants squawking relief, more noble abductees among them, with Sir Alanna and ogres chivvying all to hurry, and Kel's party swept people along, an increasing number of ogres and Scanrans grabbing panniers and bags and telling people _Go!_ There was no sign of any guards, nor liveried servants, and stairway and hall were deserted, but outside the front door a confusion of horses, grooms, ogres, Scanrans, and soldiers waited, resolving itself as saddlebags were hung, trunks strapped onto packhorses, and riders unceremoniously mounted. As order prevailed, Kel surveyed them, and turned to Seniaju, bearing a limp Lord Biron.

"You're good carrying him, Seniaju?"

"Certainly, Lady Kel. To that gibbet?"

"Yes." Her head swung, searching faces. "Lord Ventnor, there were forty-eight in your party?"

The elderly noble's face was badly bruised, and from the way he moved his body too, but he had kept his wits.

"There were, Countess, with the soldiers."

"How many dead besides Anna and Master Fellon?"

"Half the soldiers at least. They killed Fellon and rushed us."

An Ownsman raised a crudely bandaged arm. "Fourteen of twenty dead in the ambush, Lady Kel — crossbow volley from behind a cloaking-spell — and Warlan died of his wounds overnight. The five of us are here and we have his body. The others were left to rot."

Hearing the name and sensing Sam stiffen Taren realised these were men they had met in Corus, when they'd spoken to Macarran.

"Where were you attacked, Darin?"

"About five miles south, on the Upper Drell Road."

"I'll recover the bodies. Who was responsible for the cloaking-spell?"

"Master Arnaud, they called him."

Kel's gaze swung to the Deputy Steward. "Where is Master Arnaud?"

"He was with Lord Etenne, my lady, on the walls."

"Then let's hope he's dead. All freed Tortallans raise hands. Alanna, Imrah, Lachran, headcounts." Kel was counting too, and all four totals were thirty-one, plus the uniformed corpse slung over one of the mounts of the dead. "Right. All freed, you need to be in column two abreast. Servants of Lord Biron, our vengeance falls on your lord alone, though you have still to answer to King Lewis. If you live, count yourselves _very_ lucky, and don't _ever_ offend the Craftsbeings' Guild or Tortall again, in any way. New Hope, let's get out of here."

With Kel and Sir Alanna driving them, and the disciplined example of New Hope forces, freed were rapidly organised and followed a vanguard of ogres and Scanrans out through the shattered gates. Sir Alanna and Lord Imrah flanked Princess Lianne, behind packhorses and the two basilisks, and Kel with the remaining ogres and Scanrans brought up the rear — until those who'd peeled off began rejoining the column as it passed back down the main street. The view in the window flipped to one from in front, and Taren saw Lord Ventnor and others staring amazement as they saw the shattered walls and barbican, bisected by the basilisk roadway. As the last armoured spidren and samurai cleared it Lord Mithros spoke, something Taren wanted to call astonishment in his voice, muting the clash of arms.

"Twenty-three minutes since she asked who commanded the gates."

 _And twenty-eight since she arrived from New Hope. It must count as the swiftest siege there has ever been._

"It was hardly a siege at all, but I grant the swiftness. And it's quite the pair with New Hope, defensive and offensive."

 _She has also contained the eddy, I believe._

"It shrinks, certainly. You wanted it so?"

 _I hoped for it. The Protector has better things to do than fight another pointless mortal war._

"There's that. And she's not done yet."

With room to manoeuvre, Kel was dividing the column, sending most freed with mages and archers, under Lord Imrah, to wait up the road, while some Scanrans trotted back towards Aussonne, where a crowd was gathering at the fallen barbican. Kel's head turned to her collar.

"Ebony, can Diamondflame hear you?"

"Yes. What say?"

"Could he please ask Baird and Neal to meet the freed? There's no reason for them to lack healing while they wait."

The healers were already moving, Lady Yukimi and four soldiers trailing them. Prince Roald's gaze stayed on his sister, still with Kel, and General Vanget rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave Kel to it, Roald. Your sister's safe, and even if you could get down there in time your presence would be an unholy complication."

The Prince wasn't happy but subsided as Princess Shinkokami gripped his arm, eyes fixed on the window where Kel, with Sir Alanna, most immortals, and the Scanrans, escorted the Princess with a shocked and protesting Lord Ventnor towards the lonely gibbet and its burden.

"On the contrary, Lord Ventnor. Swift justice is necessary, and a great deal more practical. Do you really think the King wants a capital trial of a Gallan noble in Corus? My Guard are collecting some witnesses. And I'm not leaving any of the dead if I can help it."

Kel turned in the saddle, looking up, and waved an arm in summons. Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh slid out of the stormwings' lazy figure-of-eight and down to glide above her, looking sated.

"Your Majesty, about five miles south on the river road are fourteen dead King's Ownsmen and a mage, Master Fellon, left unburied where they were slain. Might the Stone Tree Nation recover the bodies and bring them to us, that we may bury them properly?"

"You want us to clean up a battlefield, Protector? How marvellously unnatural." Queen Barzha's voice was mellow and amused. "Our claws will cut them, you know."

"Grasp armour if you can, please, but cut is better than left."

"And what are you doing?"

"Recovering another body and substituting _him_." Kel jerked a thumb at Lord Biron, still carried by Seniaju.

"Well, I can't miss _that_ , but Cloestra can marshal the others to fetch and carry, in that nice new tunic of hers."

"As you will, but swiftly please. As soon as this is dealt with I want to get back to New Hope. Oh, and do you know how many gods are up on the ridge? It felt like lots when they arrived."

"That's because it was lots, Protector. More than a poor stormwing can count. No-one wants to miss one of your shows." Kel gave the stormwing a look that made her cackle. "Gods' truth, Protector."

"The surface of it, maybe. Their business always has more skins than an onion. But the bodies, please."

"Of course."

The stormwings flapped into climbs, Queen Barzha calling for Cloestra, and Lord Mithros shook his head.

"Marvellously unnatural! And Barzha's _pleased_ with it."

 _The Protector's reformation of the Stone Tree Nation is delightfully unexpected, and bears interesting fruit. Which reminds me, what was Shakith about with the Staff of Light this morning?_

Lord Mithros grimaced, as Taren registered the true name.

"Your guess is as good as mine. She said the day will come when that Staff lights all Three Realms. I tend to agree with Jonathan of Conté that prophecy's more trouble than it's worth."

 _Hmm. Yet perhaps we might talk of that one sometime. The Firestone has absorbed sunbird magic from the icerunes. Kawit has an interesting thought about it, also._

"Perhaps we might. All this peace has its advantages."

 _So it does._

Besides noting that Lord Mithros had evidently been watching this morning, a part of Taren's mind was imagining what Lord Avinar's report on all this might look like, but when Kel and her party reached the gibbet his breath caught yet again. Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh perched on the crossbar, peering down. The corpse had to be Anna of Nicoline, disfigured by crows but oddly dignified in death, and Kel's eyes were dark with pity as she reined in beside the body, stilling it with one hand. She gestured to an ogre before leaning forward to speak briefly to Alder, grasping the body, and standing in her stirrups as the ogre reached up to slide open the noose and free the mottled head, then took the body gently from Kel's hold.

"Back to New Hope, Lady Kel?"

"Yes. We'll bury her and the others tomorrow. A fine Nameday celebration for Lalasa and Merric that will be."

"They will be proud when they are old enough to hear the tale, Lady Kel."

She gave the ogre a warm smile. "That's a kind thought, Paliaju. Thank you." Kel frowned. "Mmm. Stay close with her, please. I have a notion it might matter." Her face became a mask. "We must get on, anyway. Your Royal Highness, I am, as Lord Ventnor says, acting beyond formal law, but I will not have my justice in doubt. Be ready to swear to your witness by gods' oath, please. Alanna, is he awake yet?"

"He is, Kel." Sir Alanna stood by a blinking but conscious Lord Biron, held from behind by Seniaju. "And before you ask, in my judgement as a healer, the blade slash on his hand happened yesterday, the nail scratches on his face within the last hour."

"So noted."

Kel waited while the detached group of Scanrans escorted a dozen dusty men and women from Aussonne towards them, stopping ten yards away. Fear and bewilderment blended on their faces.

"People of Aussonne, I am Guildmaster Countess Keladry of New Hope and Mindelan, and we came here because Lord Biron assailed the House of Conté by kidnapping its daughter and killing its subjects, and in so doing both offended the Craftsbeings' Guild and committed high treason against King Lewis. You are brought here to bear witness to the Guild's justice. Your Royal Highness?"

"We were riding peacefully when we were attacked without warning. Our mage, Master Fellon, was killed, and fourteen soldiers, with another mortally wounded. We were brought to Aussonne and separated, but my Lady-in-Waiting, Anna of Nicoline, was allowed to stay with me. We ate in our room, and afterwards Lord Biron came with his brothers Lord Julian and Lord Etenne. All were drunk, and boasting in their cups. Lord Biron claimed to be the firstborn son of King Lewis, and his rightful heir despite bastardy. He intended forced marriage to me to secure his claim, and decided to anticipate all vows. Anna defended me and sliced his hand open. He was enraged, and after the bleeding was staunched he and his brothers brought us out here and hanged Anna. There were soldiers too, but they only obeyed. Lord Biron ordered her death. She was seventeen. Today I was left alone until there was a great rumbling, and a few minutes later Lord Biron and Lord Julian burst in, locking the door behind them, and he tried again to consummate the marriage he wanted. He tore my dress, but I scratched his face and managed to get behind the bed, as you found me. I, Lianne of Conté, do swear by all gods that I have spoken truth."

She made the circle and chimes sounded, sweet and mellow. No god that Taren could see so much as moved a muscle, and he wondered how it worked. The Aussonnians started, looking around. Kel merely nodded.

"Lord Biron, by testimony given under gods' oath, you are guilty of the ambush of an embassy, murdering sixteen of abducting and twice seeking to rape Her Royal Highness Princess Lianne of Conté ; and when Lady Anna of Nicoline rightly and stoutly defended her against your drunken lechery, of ordering and witnessing Anna's murder. Can you deny any of this, swearing by gods' oath?"

"It was not murder." Lord Biron's voice was slurred, but he spoke in Common and his words could be made out. "She stabbed me! I am the rightful heir, so to assail me is treason."

Kel stared at him. "A foolish and specious claim, Lord Biron. The heir is Crown Prince Loup, and no Tortallan can be guilty of treason against any Gallan. In law, had Anna _not_ defended Her Royal Highness she would have committed treason. She was not your lieger, nor your subject, and did her sworn duty. She was not yours to judge."

"And I am not yours."

"The right you claimed was victor's tyranny, and I claim it in turn." Kel's voice was deadly flat, and Lord Biron flushed. "Beyond power, I also claim three rights in law to judge you, Biron of Aussonne — as Guildmaster of the Craftsbeings, whose future your act of war imperilled, reacting in its defence : as a Countess and General Officer Commanding of Tortall, oath-sworn and duty-bound to the House of Conté, whose daughter you wantonly stole and assailed, and whose subjects you have caused to be murdered, reacting to your offences and crimes and as Clanchief Hléoburh, who counts Sir Esmond of Nicoline, brother of Anna whom you murdered, as a friend, and claims bloodright in her death and desecration. And as your actions plainly constitute high treason against King Lewis, you can claim no protection under Gallan law. Ebony, is Lord Mithros on the ridge?"

"Yes. War god hears."

"It's not the war bit we want, Ebony." Kel turned Alder to face the ridge, stood in her stirrups, and bowed. "Lord Mithros, if you approve the justice I claim, I pray you to make it known."

Taren's was not the only head that turned, and Lord Mithros scowled, then flicked a hand. Chimes sounded again, with that fury of battle loud behind them, and Kel bowed again.

"Thank you, my lord. Positives are so much easier."

Lord Mithros snorted again, scowl fading, and Taren caught a glint in Lord Diamondflame's visible eye. In the window wonder eclipsed fear on the faces of the Aussonians.

"Biron of Aussonne, for treasonably seizing and seeking to rape Her Royal Highness Princess Lianne of Conté, for the treasonable murder by ambush of sixteen members of the Tortallan embassy, and for the treasonable murder of another, Anna of Nicoline, you will be hanged by the neck until you shall be dead, even as you hanged Anna, and I do not ask the Black God to have the least mercy on your soul."

Kel swung herself off Alder while Lord Biron blinked, and others drew deep breaths. She walked round to face the warhorse, drawing his head down to rest against hers, her voice so soft Taren thought only the window allowed it to carry, and for the first time felt that he heard something he shouldn't.

"He has to die, Alder, boy, and as Anna did. Do you mind?"

Alder snorted, slobbering a little on Kel's shoulder, and she stroked his neck. Lord Diamondflame's head turned.

 _Your brother of death comes._

Lord Mithros nodded. "Of course he does."

Taren blinked, but Kel had already straightened.

"Thank you, Alder. Seniaju, bind his hands and get him mounted and noosed, please."

"Lady Kel."

"You cannot hang me!"

"Why not, Lord Biron?" He stared. "The moment you laid violent hands on a Princess of the House of Conté your life was forfeit. Your brothers Etenne and Julian have preceded you. Carry on, Seniaju."

The ogre did, hoisting the struggling lord onto Alder's saddle, and a second stepped forward to seat the noose. To one side silver flared, and Kel turned as a hooded shape appeared, one arm round the shoulders of a slender figure. Anna's spirit was unmarred, and her expression showed both joyous satisfaction and bitter rage. A deep silence fell as most mortals went to their knees, including the Aussonnians. Kel only bowed, and Princess Lianne took a step forward with a sob. Anna looked up at the cowled god and wind soughed though the silence.

"You may go to her, but neither speak nor touch. Protector, I would talk with you."

Anna gave a little bow before crossing to stand before the Princess, smiling and pointing to Kel, walking towards the Black God.

"Oh gods, Anna, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. Forgive me."

Anna nodded, then went to stand briefly before her own corpse in Paliaju's arms, returning the ogre's nod before shrugging and going to stand by an unspooked Alder as Kel stopped before the Black God, bowing and looking into the darkness beneath his hood.

"Thank you for this grace, my lord. How may I serve you?"

"Anna is seen only because I will it, garnishing your achievements this day, but if you would still cleanse Rathhausak, I will grant you the power to see and send to me souls yet astray and sundered here. But I caution you, for it is a gift that once given cannot be taken back."

"You mean I will always see the sundered?"

"Yes."

"And can send them to you?"

"Yes."

Kel's face was still. "Are there many sundered, my lord?"

"Too many, but none at your Citadel. Dabeyoun brought in the mage and soldiers slain yesterday."

Kel nodded with a rueful look. "Thank you, and to Dabeyoun. This is a burden, then, yet Rathhausak must be cleansed. I accept your gift, my lord."

"Ain't that Ma all over."

Tobeis's voice was a mutter, and Taren didn't think Piers was too happy about it either, but they could not stop the smooth-skinned hand that rested on Kel's shoulder, nor the stoop for unseen lips to kiss her forehead as silver gleamed.

"You may share the gift of vision at need, briefly, in like manner, but not the power of command."

Kel had frozen for a second, eyes closed, but nodded at his words before rotating her head and opening them again.

"You bear so much for us all, of your grace."

"You are no burden, Keladry, and your prayers ease mine. Be assured the Gallan mage died as the walls fell, and send his master to me now, for I am ever needed elsewhere."

"My lord." She bowed again, and turned. "Alder."

The great warhorse bucked and bolted a half-dozen steps, and it was over. Taren heard Lord Biron's neck break, saw the avid looks of the stormwings, and shuddered with Var and Sam. Their hands clasped, breaths catching as a pale spirit slipped free of the swinging body and stumbled clear, blinking bewilderment. Anna marched across, and with a look of infinite scorn seized the dead lord's hand and swung him round to pitch at the Black God's feet. He looked up, face suddenly fearful, and vanished at a wave of one smooth hand. Anna came back to the god's side, silver flared, and they were gone.

"Everyone's in a giving mood today, it seems." Lord Mithros sounded reflective, the battle-fury still distant.

 _As well we might be. The eddy has vanished with that death._

"Yes. Your speed was timely."

 _I had no thought of it until the Protector asked, but I could see she sensed a possibility. The Timeway has taken to her imprint._

"It seems to like her, absurd as that is. At least she's sensible."

 _And is about to be more so._

Kel had stilled the body, face a mask, and turned to Var'istaan. "Petrify him, please — the whole thing, gibbet, rope, and body, with a footing, in that stone that resists all weathering, if you can."

"Lady Kel."

Basilisks looked at one another, and set about it, gibbet and footing first, the stormwings hastily flapping away. Kel stood about ten feet in front of the body, ignoring them to scrape a patch of earth clear of straggling grasses with her boot, and began to write on it with her glaive. The view in the window shifted, and Taren read the words in Common as they formed while the rock spell shrieked and thundered.

 **HERE HANGS LORD BIRON OF AUSSONNE**

 **WHO SOUGHT TO STEAL A THRONE**

 **BY MURDER, KIDNAP, RAPE, AND BOAST.**

 **THE STONE RECORDS HIS FATE.**

"Petrify this as well, please, Var'istaan. Obsidian."

"Poetry in Common now, as well as Yamani, and preserved for the ages. Clever, too."

Lord Mithros sounded approving, Piers grunted agreement, and Taren thought the cleverness they appreciated was probably making Lord Biron's principal crime treason, by definition against King Lewis, as well as the terrible warning petrified body and inscription would represent, but his own appreciation was distinct.

" _The stone records his fate_. Not just him, echoing those Stone Fools in Yaman, but the walls and barbican, and those gates. The whole thing's been a song of stone, through and for Kel."

He spoke softly, only to Sam and Var, but found Lord Mithros looking straight at him, eyes fathomless, and stars spun in his mind.

"Now _that_ is astute, Lord of Stone Mountain. You grow into your title." The starry gaze went to Sam, then Var, and Taren felt them stiffen, realising he was holding himself rigidly upright. "You have all done well, and have my blessing." Stars swirled and faded. "And tell your father I prefer quality to quantity in prayer, and deeds to words. What _is_ the use of hermits, anyway?"

Taren could not stop a laugh, and Lord Mithros smiled back. His sense of benison overflowed, Kel's example danced in his mind, and he bowed.

"With pleasure, my lord, though if he heeds me it will be a first. But Varia has a marvellous idea for a new temple at Stone Mountain, so perhaps you could tell him yourself when we dedicate it."

The god laughed, shaking his head. "More than Keladry's good sense is catching, it seems. Maybe I will at that."

"I am glad you are in a good mood, brother." The Great Goddess's hounds were also more distant than they had been. "Be in it some more, for Keladry is coming."

"Mortals! What does she want now?"

Looking to the window again, Taren saw the basilisks were done, the newly black body bizarrely still on its rigid rope, inscription gleaming as light caught petrified sillion raised by the glaive's blade. Aussonnians crowded round it, staring, while all New Hopers and freed were headed to join the other freed and their rescuers, save Kel and her Scanrans, riding diagonally up the ridge towards them. The window vanished and Kel became directly visible, only a few hundred yards away and looking up at the gods strung along the ridgeline. They were watching her, too, and when Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady beside him lifted hands in salute she returned it, with the sketched bow riding allowed. An old man — Lord Sakuyo, Taren guessed — gave her a wide smile and a little bow of his own, and she smiled and nodded back, though Taren didn't think the smile reached her eyes. Her gaze also raked mortals, lingering a little on Master Sternross, still slack-faced, then on pale Junior, before taking in the Prince and Princess, Lord Ferghal and General Vanget, and her assorted kin, lingering again on a staring Lord Avinar, and ending with her father and Tobe. When she pulled up before Lords Mithros and Diamondflame, Tobe gave Junior a stern instruction not to move one feather, and went forward to take Alder's reins as she dismounted the Scanrans all dismounted too, going to one knee beside their horses.

"Thank you, Tobe. All well?"

Her voice had lost its flatness, though edges remained

"We're good, Ma, though Junior got himself scolded white. Are you alright?"

"Glad it's over, but yes. And anything that subdues Junior is welcome." She climbed the slope, gave a general bow, one hand extended, to the gods along the ridgeline, nodded to Lord Diamondflame, and went to one knee before Lord Mithros and the Great Goddess before rising to look at both of them.

"My lord, my lady. Did you enjoy the show?"

Even as he heard it, Taren knew he would never forget or be able to describe Kel's tone, irony and pain layered with sorrow and satisfaction, relief and curiosity."

"All did, Keladry, and you have stilled the Timeway's eddy."

"Have I? Good. I hoped that idiot's death had done the trick, but it's nice to be certain, for once."

"You do not lack certainty. And in so far as it was a siege at all, you have set an all-time record for speed."

Lord Mithros sounded amused, and Kel shrugged.

"Well, that's something, I suppose, but as to certainty, try it from my perspective, my lord. Anyway, besides paying my respects, and thanking you for those chimes, which I do, I came to ask if aught else should be done to ensure this justice is sufficient to forestall war. I know you like both, but the children don't."

"There will be no war, Keladry. Lewis of Barbonne is not foolish, as mortal kings go, and however he may be mortified his rage will be with the dead. He will also be sensibly afraid when he sees what you have done, and gladly take the escape you have cleverly offered him."

"Good again, and thank you, my lord. That is helpful. I have to wait on the stormwings, so I'll leave him a note as well."

"You have a writing-case in your armour?"

Kel blinked. "In my saddlebag, my lord. I knew stone would speak, but it's not very articulate about how Princess Lianne will proceed." Her gaze went to the Crown Prince and Princess, then her father. "I thought King Lewis and Prince Loup should be invited to New Hope, Roald. You and Lianne will be there, and your father and Thayet can come if they want. And after _this_ , Papa, I believe we want home advantage."

Piers nodded immediately. "Quite right, my dear. King Lewis has a deal of explaining to do. Your Royal Highness?"

Roald nodded too. "Yes. And thank you, Kel, with all my heart. If Lianne had …"

"I know." She turned back to Lord Mithros and the Great Goddess. "Was there anything more, my lord, my lady?"

"Not unless you wish to scold me further about Chaos-taint."

Kel gave the god a very old-fashioned look. "Not particularly, my lord. I'm sorry about that, but I have had it up to here with necromancers, and a Chaos-tainted one was the last straw." She frowned. "Does raw Chaos attract or repel Chaos-taint?"

"It may do either. Why?"

"I had a dream of gods and dragons flying over Scanra, trailing bound Chaos-creatures, but I couldn't tell if they were attracting the taint or just stirring it up so you could see it and scoop it up some other way."

Lord Mithros stared, something tautened in Lord Diamondflame, and Taren had an abrupt conviction the dragon was stifling laughter.

"It's an idea. Of sorts. Chaos-taint is no easy problem, Keladry, but it is true you have seen much of it for a mortal. An effort will be made."

"Excellent. Thank you, my lord. Oh, and do please warn me if you decide to do it like that, so I can warn the Scanrans, or you'll scare half the nation silly."

 _If the gods do not, Protector, we will._ Taren's conviction deepened. _The stormwings come._

Kel turned, considering the strange sight of fifteen stormwings each bearing a dangling corpse, wings beating hard and Cloestra above them in her tunic. As the first body was taken by waiting soldiers she nodded and turned back.

"So that's done. Good. I must write that note, if you'll excuse me, my lord, my lady."

"Try this."

Lord Mithros waved a hand, silver flashed, and a lectern appeared, complete with paper, quill, inkpot, and sealing wax. Kel looked at it, then at the god, eyebrows high.

"Well, _that's_ useful. Thank you, my lord." Without more ado she turned a sheet of paper to a convenient angle, took the quill — an oddly dull brown feather Taren supposed a sunbird's — thought briefly, and began to write. After a moment she spoke without looking up. "I should have realised you'd be the god of clerks as well, my lord."

"I am no such thing!"

The fury of battle was back in Lord Mithros's voice but Kel kept writing.

"Aren't you, my lord? You should be, then. Neither war nor justice would get far without them. And you could get a fair godly boost from their worship, surely? There are plenty of them, for all there are never enough to hand."

Lord Diamondflame was very still indeed, but a slight snort escaped Lady Skysong. Taren very much wanted to look at Lord Avinar's face, and did glance down to see Master Sternross's stupor at last give way to gaping astonishment, but Lord Mithros's expression was the compelling one, as if Kel were a mortal he didn't quite believe in. Beside him the Great Goddess's face was also suspiciously still, starry eyes very bright.

"She has a point, brother. Two, even."

"Don't you start." Lord Mithros shook his head. "Clerks, yet."

"Yes, clerks, my lord. Most essential people." Kel considered what she had written, and nodded. "A bit bare, but it'll do."

She signed, and slid the sheet aside, squaring a second.

"Another note?"

"A copy, my lord, for King Jonathan."

Lord Mithros again waved a hand and the note duplicated. Kel blinked.

"Thank you again, my lord. A _huge_ godly boost, if you shared _that_ spell." She folded one note, wrote the direction, took a signet from a tunic pocket, and lifted the sealing wax. "Kit, your usual skill?"

The dragonet bounced over, looked up, and concentrated. A tiny lick of flame touched wax and a fat drop fell, Kel striking the impression.

"Thank you, Kit."

"That's good control." Lord Mithros eyed the dragonet, who returned the favour. "You're being very quiet."

 _I have practiced a great deal. And I am not scolding you, god Mithros, because you are for once being helpful rather than annoying. Is it not nicer for all when you are so?_

She bounced back to her place, and Kel folded the copy, tucking it into a pocket with the signet before looking at Lord Diamondflame.

"I'll just deliver this, my lord, and we can be off."

 _Allow me, Protector. I would be gone also._

There was a strangely muffled quality to Lord Diamondflame's mindvoice, making Kel frown and Taren think of a mortal stuffing hand in mouth to forestall convulsive laughter, but the ball of glittering blue-black magic that formed round the sealed note arced with precision to the crowd at the petrified gibbet, hovered a moment, and descended.

 _The oldest of your witnesses has it, Protector, and promises to deliver it in person when Lewis of Barbonne comes._

"Thank you, my lord. One more help in your long tally. And thank you all for coming, my lord, my lady, all High Ones. I appreciate the vote of confidence, I think. Farewell."

"Oh we do, Keladry, and the better for your actions this day. Fare you well, also."

She bowed and remounted, releasing Tobe with murmured thanks to scamper back to stand by Junior, and ordering the Scanrans to remount.

"Back to the road now, New Hope."

 _We will assist their steps, Protector. Farewell, god Mithros and all gods. I will contact you regarding that matter of prophecy._

"Do that, dragon Diamondflame. With so little war about I shall look forward to it."

Taren and Sam pulled Master Sternross upright, clapped his helmet on his head, and continued to grasp his hands as the same magic made descent as swift as ascent had been. Lord Diamondflame's aid extended to Alder and the Scanrans' horses, who were less impressed by it than Taren, but with some snorting and neighing they were soon lined up, in double column, with all others on the same broad front as before. Taren and Sam relinquished Master Sternross to the care of a stone-faced Lord Avinar, with relief. Dragon magic glittered, an archway opened and broadened, and within moments they were back on New Hope's soil, stormwings gliding above and Junior firmly on foot, less than two hours after they had left, to receive tumultuous applause as Princess Lianne was seen with the other freed, though the horses bearing corpses made cheers falter. Prince Roald was walking with Princess Shinkokami beside his sister's mount, and as Kel slipped Alder alongside, excited sparrows circling, Taren strained to hear.

"We need to get you to the spellmirror. Your parents will be waiting. But thank Diamondflame and Rainbow, please. Without them, nothing."

Princess Lianne nodded, face tight, and Prince Roald looked across at her, then at his wife, flicking his head. The three royals followed Kel, Princess Lianne dismounting before Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow, standing together.

"Thank you, my lords, most sincerely." Princess Lianne swallowed and curtsied deeply, the others echoing her. "I have never been so scared in my life, nor so angry. And I knew no-one could help me in time. But you brought Kel, and Anna rejoiced at it. I know it can mean nothing, but I bless you, all of you. The House of Conté acknowledges its debt."

"Yes, it does, my lords." Prince Roald's voice was tight. "Had Lord Biron defiled my sister we would face bloody war, yet again. I cannot speak for my father, but I will remember what we owe your grace."

"Truly so, my lords. This one cannot fathom it, but I honour you most sincerely."

Princess Shinkokami's voice quavered, and Lord Rainbow seemed to regard her with blind eyes.

 _Do not fear us, Shinkokami noh Takuji of Conté, nor the gods' concern with the Protector. It is a matter for rejoicing. And you are all welcome. Our aid was given freely, and incurs no debt. The day has not lacked interest, nor entertainment. Protector, we will be here tomorrow for the nameday, the funerals, and to talk with the stormwings, but do excuse us now — if Diamondflame does not begin to dance soon I believe he may burst, and I feel much the same, as do many. Farewell, for now._

Both dragons had been coiled tightly and leaped into the air, wings blurring downdrafts buffeted everyone as all adults followed, gaining height swiftly and beginning to spiral around and among one another, trailing streamers of fire around which others curved, adding streamers of their own. Head tilted back, Taren saw but could not name the patterns they made, curving geometries of fire and flight, and some part of his mind wondered if Var could until he heard Kel sigh her wonder, and his heart bubbled.

"They dance so beautifully, and I can't stay to watch. Ebony, at least one other darking can see them?"

"Many. Beautiful. We show later."

"Good. Come on, Roald. Your parents will be beside themselves."

The royals dragged themselves away in Kel's wake, followed by an equally reluctant Sir Alanna, Baron George, Lord Imrah, and the Dukes, sparrows circling, and all heads turned up. Taren's head swivelled as the adult griffins shrieked command from above, and a hangdog Junior flapped meekly into a climb to be bracketed by them and escorted away. He found Tobe beside him, also looking up, with Lady Skysong beyond, a wistful look on her face.

"Taren, did you think Diamondflame was _laughing_?"

"Fit to burst, Tobe. Lord Rainbow as good as said so." He met the boy's eyes. "Me too, in truth. Your Ma did tell Lord Mithros he should be the god of clerks."

"Well, he should. I've seen how vital they are. And those Gallan lords were awful. Ma did right. What happened was just, but why is it funny?"

"I don't think I can explain very sensibly, Tobe. It's the incongruity. Your Ma talks to gods almost as if they were, I don't know, fellow commanders, maybe, and they don't mind. It floored Master Sternross, and I'll bet it's bent your Uncle Avinar right out of shape. It also makes dragons laugh, so it has to be a good thing, right?"

"I guess." Tobe regarded him suspiciously for a moment before looking up again. "The dance is beautiful, not funny."

"I think they may be the same, Tobe, from a dragon's perspective."

"Huh. I'll ask Kit about that when she's less distracted."

"Do. Meanwhile, we could see better, without cricking our necks, if we just lay down."

"That's a thought."

And they did, entranced by the nameless patterns, until the dragons had spiralled beyond mortal vision.

The remainder of the day was very odd indeed as news spread through New Hope, leaving people at once joyous at the recovery of the Princess and her retinue, and the aversion of war, yet sorrowful and angry for the dead while grimly satisfied at the fate of their killers, bewildered and wondering at the strangeness of it all, peacock-proud of Lady Kel, and thoughtful, if not entirely soberly, about the rippling effects her actions would have. Kel did not reappear, but Dom came out after a while to say food would be served in the messhall, and would family and guests kindly fend for themselves? Taren managed a word, being reassured that Kel was fine but, having spoken with Sir Esmond and his parents, who had all been in Corus and urgently summoned to the palace, would be staying with the twins Taren thought of three dead brothers and those who had died when walls and barbican fell, of Anna's spirit and the Black God's gift, and asked no more. Nor were Prince Roald or Princess Lianne to be seen, but when Princess Shinkokami appeared, trailed by two maids, Taren gathered that, after long conversations with their own and Anna's parents, Lianne was sleeping, Roald writing an account of what he had witnessed while it was fresh in his mind, and the other freed also sleeping, having received healers' attentions. Daine was with her, looking pensive, and Taren realised he had no idea if she had watched or not.

"No, I stayed to talk to the new darkings, Taren. Someone had to, I've seen enough war, and have no desire ever to return to Galla. I did see Button show the walls coming down, though, which was interesting."

"To say the least. Numair should be proud."

"He's pleased, yes, but also grieving Master Fellon, who was more helpful than most mages when he came here from Carthak. Did Master Sternross really faint at Mithros's feet?"

"Prostrated himself and froze, certainly. It was only mortal irony, not divine, but spectacular all the same."

"How do you know it was only mortal, Lord Taren? And how can you be so calm about it when all is so very disturbing?"

Taren considered Princess Shinkokami, whose voice was sharper than it might be, and spoke carefully.

"Did you hear Lord Mithros's remark, Your Royal Highness? He looked down at Master Sternross and said _Your timing is reason enough to deny you, whoever you are_." Daine grinned but said nothing. "I did not think he was being ironic. But Master Sternross has been … exercised, shall I say, ever since I've been here, thinking Kel impious because she is not, by his lights, proper in her piety. Then the High One turned up, to see and admire what Kel was doing, and Master Sternross fell flat on his face, too stupefied to address the god he claims to champion with any manners at all. His foolishness made for an irony before the gods, but not of them."

The princess nodded, face still. "That is clear, thank you. His likeness to Blessed Lord Hidetaki is most confusing, but Lord Sakuyo knew what that one would do, where this one intruded on Lord Mithros."

"He did, yes. As to being calm, Your Royal Highness, I don't always feel so, but what's the use of fussing? Forgive me, but I understand you have been … distressed, of late, by new knowledge of the gods."

"I have, Lord Taren. Blessed Piers and Blessed Honoured Ilane tell me I should not be, but to reunderstand my whole life is not so easy."

"Nor wondering why your best Tortallan friend is so very blessed?"

"I am not jealous. It is that Chisakami died to make all this possible, and I rejoiced to be freed from my first betrothal. Did she die because Most Blessed Keladry befriended _me_? And had she befriended _her_ , would I have died in that earthquake?"

Taren had to think through what he knew of the history involved, but once he did so the core of her problem made good sense to him. He cogitated for a moment, while the Princess's stare challenged him.

"Those questions I cannot answer, Your Royal Highness, as you know full well. But I do understand. I rejoiced with my siblings when our half-brother Joren died, celebrated the deaths of all those traitors, and was incredulous when our father stepped aside — only to find now that all our suffering made us able to be what we are, and to take the chances those deaths offered. I cannot know, but I think you may be confusing the gods with the Timeway."

She frowned. "How so, Lord Taren?"

"The gods know much but not all, for they acknowledge they wait on the Timeway." She nodded. "I do not believe they caused that earthquake" — though stone might have sung it — "nor that they ordered or influenced the elemental of the Chamber to kill Joren, only that they are swift to take advantage of what the Timeway brings, and their advantage was also yours, as it was mine."

She nodded again, eyes intent on him. "This I can see."

"And you wonder at their choosing Kel, as all do. But I have come to think that is also them taking advantage. Clearly, many chances, and her own determination, placed her at the heart of the Timeway's roil, so much so that it attended to her. Lord Mithros seemed to think it _liked_ her, somehow, and Lord Diamondflame said she was _of the roil, long years in the making and filled with sudden currents in the being_. So I suspect the gods did not so much choose her, as bet on her, and won, handsomely. And now to walk with her is to walk with the gods. Should we not accept it?"

"Mortals should not walk with the gods at all. We are below them, not beside them."

"Ah. And if they choose to walk beside us?"

She had no ready answer, and Daine rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Gods are always fair strange, but he has a point, you know, Shinko. Kel didn't presume — she was presumed on."

"That may be so, Daine, but she speaks to the High Ones as if they were but lords. It is not right."

"Perhaps not, Your Royal Highness, but if they do not admonish her for it, how should any mortal presume to do so?" Her mouth shut with a snap, eyes troubled. "And she misses your friendship badly."

"It is not easy, my lord. I should visit Lord Ventnor. Duke Baird insisted he stay in the infirmary tonight."

She left, trailing her maids, and Daine sighed.

"I have some sympathy, but it's fading. She should try finding out one parent was a god and the other's just become one."

"Was it very bad?" Taren had often wondered.

"Not really, but it brought more questions than it answered. I had my magic, though, and being with the People is very soothing. They're much more practical than two-leggers."

"Huh. Kel was pretty practical today, even with the Black God."

"So I gathered. I knew she was bothered about Rathhausak, but he must be too."

"I don't think he likes anyone being sundered, but I confess I wondered if it was another dig at Lord Mithros about tidying up."

Daine grinned. "There's a thought. But Mithros said he'd make an effort?"

"He did, yes, though that was before Kel called him the god of clerks. Tobe agrees, by the way. You heard about Lady Skysong's comment?"

"I did, bless her."

They looked at one another and had a hard time not laughing aloud, made worse when a cheerful Sir Alanna stopped to ask what they were up to.

"Trying not to have a fit of giggles, mostly." Daine shook her head. "Mithros said Kit was being very quiet, and she told him she wasn't scolding him because he was for once being helpful, and wasn't that nicer for everyone?"

"Quite right, and good for her. And he _was_ being uncommonly helpful. The Timeway thing, I suppose, which really does seem to be down to Kel. Who knew you could nip eddies in the bud? Then again, the Black God was uncommonly helpful too, and that felt like grace. Second time I know of he's brought a victim's spirit to see Kel execute their killer. I wonder if he does that for other victims."

"Rogal was the first, Sir Alanna? Or Sir Merric, rather?"

"Yes. But do drop the Sir, at least this evening. It's far too nice for honourifics."

Taren blinked. "It is?"

"You bet it is. Kel's worked a military and political miracle on no notice at all, and poor Anna and the other dead aside, it was _fun_. Righteous, swift, and _very_ satisfying. Like the sortie that ended the siege, but without all the slogging first, and I was too woozy from Baird's healing to enjoy myself properly then. Tonight I'm going to make up for it. The ogres have invited the Scanrans to _The Mortal Surprise_ , so I'll probably end up there, if I don't get sidetracked. Want to come?"

Taren thought about it, very briefly. "No, thanks all the same."

"Chicken."

"Certainly. My head is not that hard. And the Nameday ceremony is at dawn."

"That, yes." Alanna sobered. "Kel would far rather do funerals first, but Jon, Thayet, and Anna's family, including some ancients, want to attend by spellmirror, so they have to be later."

"Does the family know dragons are coming?"

"Kel did mention it, but I doubt they took it in."

"Do you understand why? I was surprised."

"Who knows with dragons? But after this morning I think they wouldn't miss young Lalasa's naming because she's Kel's heir, probably as Guildmaster as well as Countess, and as Kel has to conduct the funerals they'd think it rude not to attend those too."

"Oh. Right. That makes sense. I mean no slight, but the dead didn't seem reason enough."

"They probably wouldn't be on their own, though Diamondflame is always courteous." Daine waggled a hand. "But it's the apprentices, also. I could see Icefall and Steelsings were bored silly ten years back, but it never occurred to me that I could do anything about it. And I'd bet Diamondflame and Rainbow saw it long ago, and others, but while the Isolationists held sway there wasn't anything much they could do. I'd also bet they enjoyed Kel telling Moonwind off even more than I did."

"She was an isolationist?"

"She was, yes, and still thinks mortals are a good deal more trouble than we're worth, though Kel's been working on it." Daine grinned. "And I must find out why she wants Jadewing here. Won't that be something?"

"Surely. Lord Diamondflame seemed pleased about it. I wondered if Lady Icefall missed him, because she's so young."

"She does, and that'll be in there. But these days Kel tends to have almost as many reasons for doing something as gods."

"Yes. It's absurd, I know, but I almost thought she was looking out for Lord Jadewing, as if his, um, well, not being the sharpest dragon in the box, she once said, made him someone she ought to protect."

Alanna hooted. "Oh, that's good, Taren. And spot on, I'll bet. Only Kel could count the largest dragon there is as one of her small."

"She said he was rather sweet, when you got to know him."

And he had been, Taren thought, remembering the great dragon's humility about not being as clever as he was large, but Alanna only gurgled laughter, said in a surprisingly good imitation of Kel " _Do_ please mind your tail, my lord. Mortals break so easily.", and doubled over, slapping her thigh. Daine was laughing too, and Taren left them to it it _was_ funny, but not only funny, and he had at least one duty to attend to. Spotting Sam and Var talking to Kawit and Cloestra on the terrace, he looked for Sir Voelden, finding him by the flagpole with Captain Uinse, Lord Ferghal and General Vanget, Piers, Sir Anders, Sir Inness, and Dom, discussing practical consequences. The King and Queen would be on the road the day after tomorrow, and a messenger was already heading for Cría via Aussonne bearing a _very_ stiffly worded letter suggesting King Lewis and Prince Loup immediately accept Kel's invitation to New Hope how large royal retinues might be was unknown, but space and security would be needed just the same. General Vanget and haMinchi troops would be waiting at the border, by way of escort, and Sir Voelden was involved because transfer of mining administration to Tirrsmont would have to be advanced to free up space at the Citadel. Younger Mindelans would be gently encouraged to depart more swiftly than they otherwise might, and those who remained required to share rooms more complicatedly, once King Lewis crossed the border (assuming he did), inbound pilgrims could be held at Mindelan to allow some of their dormitories to house whoever needed it. That in turn meant additional food might be needed at Mindelan, so any number of ducal orders were required to merchants, factors, and stewards, as well as wayhouse keepers, and Sir Inness would bear them. Taren's attention sharpened.

"No, no, Anders, I'll go. Kel's happy I'm here, but she _needs_ you around for as long as you can be. I know she's shrugging it off, but today makes nine executions she's ordered in a month, and the gods alone know how many dead when those walls came down. Then there's the Black God's latest gift to her, on top of it all. She has to be hurting."

"It's not so bad, Inness." Dom sighed and shrugged. "I could do without the, what, ghost-sight? But Kel's been fretting about Rathhausak for months. Irnai had a vision of Zerhalm's dead wife meeting the Black God, and was very clear it hadn't happened yet, so knowing her among the sundered a background worry became urgent. And for all she's sick of killing, the executions don't bother her that much, given the crimes involved. And those bother her more."

"Yes." Piers blew out a breath. "I spoke to her at some length about the _Sekkinukesaku_ , Inness, on the voyage home, and she seemed quite content to have sent them to face the Black God's Judges. Unferth's wretched minions, too, and however her justice today was very summary, with Lord Mithros endorsing it no-one can argue it wasn't just. Even in the moment, angry enough to flatten her voice in that terrifying way, she never stopped thinking politically and diplomatically." He shook his head and noticed his auditor. "Did you need something, Taren?"

"Nothing urgent, Piers. I was looking for Sir Voelden, to introduce Sam and Var, but I'll add that Sam and I will be happy to double up, and I'm sure Var would, too."

"If we need to ask, we will, Tar." Dom gave a weary shrug. "It'll depend what retinue King Lewis brings, assuming he comes at all."

"He will if he wants this marriage, Domitan, and he does."

"Is it known if Lord Biron really was his bastard firstborn?"

"No. There have been rumours, but never any acknowledgement, and King Lewis does acknowledge one bastard daughter." Piers spread his hands delicately. "I've never had much to do with Gallan affairs, but from what little I know it's neither impossible nor thought very likely. I will say, though, that as Lord Biron was not acknowledged in life, I would be frankly astonished if he were to be so in death."

"Me too. He looked very like his brother Etenne, if not so much like the other, Julian. When did he inherit? And is his mother still alive?"

"Pass, to both questions. I hope for her sake she isn't. The King is bringing some of those who have been directly involved in negotiating the, um, presently very putative marriage, and they might know." Piers rubbed his brow. "Kel had to be ruthlessly swift today, but it has left a lot of questions unanswered, and perhaps now unanswerable.

"We could ask Lord Diamondflame tomorrow what he knows, or might discover." Taren shrugged lightly. "Or pray to know. Lord Diamondflame was very clear that the dragons didn't want Kel tied up with what he called a 'pointless mortal war', and Lord Mithros didn't disagree."

"No, he didn't, and that's a thought, Taren. Thank you." Piers acquired an introspective look. "Though I can't say I relish the prospect of asking Lord Diamondflame anything. He obviously likes Kel, and tolerates other mortals, but I always feel so very young and silly talking to him."

"Deputise Tobe. He doesn't bat an eyelid at dragons."

Sir Anders laughed, Sir Inness smiled, and Piers blinked.

"That's true, Taren, but it doesn't seem quite fair. And Kel wouldn't like me adding to Tobeis's burdens."

Sir Anders laughed again. "What you mean, Papa, is that Tobe will ask straight out and accept any refusal without demur, which goes against your diplomatic grain."

Piers gave his eldest son a severe look but didn't deny it, and Taren suppressed a smile.

"I'll ask him, Piers, if I get the chance. I was supposed to talk to him today before we were so rudely interrupted. But isn't it all King Lewis's problem now?"

"It is, Taren, but unless he deals with it thoroughly and promptly it will be ours too, especially if there's anyone in his retinue complicit with this outrage."

"Mmm. Though assuming any such to have the least sense, a list of those who refused to come when asked might be more revealing."

"Indeed. But we have to wait on the event, either way. And unless anyone has anything else, I think we've done all we can for now. I'll get started on those letters, Inness. And I fear much will fall to you, Sir Voelden, in this upheaval."

"It's no problem, Your Grace, only getting on with it. And given what we might have been facing, I count us all fortunate men tonight, by your daughter's grace."

"I know it. It is a vastly smaller political mess than it might have been, but still a mess."

"Or perhaps only a muddle." Taren shrugged. "Lord Mithros was clear King Lewis will gratefully accept that Lord Biron rightly died for treason against _him_ , as well as being _sensibly afraid_ when he sees what's left of Aussonne. And I imagine he'll spend the night before he gets here at Dragonstown?"

"Oh yes." Dom gave him a smile. "We'll get Mikal and the liegers to put on an especially stone-faced show for his and Prince Loup's benefit. Clan Nihthelm, too, as Kel claimed Clanchief's blooddebt, and I had Jorvik and Ragnar watching the darking show. It had a salutary effect on recalcitrant Beorhtscyldings, I believe."

Taren would bet it had, and as the gathering broke up and he went with Sir Voelden towards the terrace he tried to tally the number of birds Kel and Dom had between them managed to — he laughed to himself — hit with one stone, or at any rate one curtain wall and a four-stage barbican. But it was all of a piece — Kel was what she was, and did what she did, and the three realms adjusted themselves to it, much as when she pattern danced with such balance she was still and the world moved around her. He mentioned the thought to Sir Voelden, and was pleased to elicit a laugh.

"Pretty much, my lord, from what I've seen. And the gods looking on for the entertainment! I suppose one could say they were applauding Lady Kel, in a way."

"Lord Mithros was admiring of her innovations in military practice. And the Black God said he let Anna's spirit be seen _to garnish your achievements this day_."

"He did?"

There was surprise in Sir Voelden's voice, so Taren explained about the window and what he'd heard before they joined the group on the terrace, which had expanded to include Wuodan, tongue lolling, a pensive Lord Imrah, and a subdued Squire Lachran. Kawit was speaking of the pre-Thanic siege that had until today been the fastest, at fifty-six hours — successful infiltration over an earthen redoubt on the third night, Taren gathered — and the delightful improbability of beating its mark by more than fifty-five hours, but when she reached a pause he introduced Sam and Var to Sir Voelden, and their formal thanks, with Sir Voelden's demurs, shifted the focus.

 _More false guilt laid down._ Wuodan regarded them with flameless eyes. _And some that was true atoned for. Another good day for the Protector._

"Atoned for, Wuodan?"

 _Certainly, Voelden of New Hope. What shadows of treason against the House of Conté can survive such a recovery of its stolen daughter?_

"Oh. I suppose." Sir Voelden frowned. "I wasn't thinking about anything like that. And the archers were only more of Lady Kel's belts and braces — none of us had to fire."

"It makes no odds." Cloestra grinned, a shrug making her newly impressive cleavage ripple. "You were there, as we were, however humble our capacities, so the Protector's glory rubs off."

Taren _had_ thought something like that, with ironic appreciation of a chance redemptively to serve the House of Conté while doing very little.

"You did more than me, Sir Voelden, yet as Cloestra says we benefit by association. And though Wuodan calls them false, it would be truer to say our guilts were by association, so it balances out, after a fashion."

 _Guild by association is false guilt, Taren of Stone Mountain. We judge by deeds alone._

"With all respect—"

 _Always a dangerous beginning._

Taren waved a hand. "Nevertheless, there are other factors. Take my father — innocent, by gods' oath, of witting treason, but not wrongly tainted by association."

 _He was guilty of other deeds._

"Undoubtedly, but not therefore rightly innocent of what he _should_ have known, however unwitting he actually was."

 _Why do mortals always want to complicate things? One of the Protector's delights is that she keeps things simple. But I grant you that not speaking and not acting may be deeds warranting judgement._

Kawit's tail swished. _You would call today's events simple, Wuodan?_

 _Pleasingly so, Kawit. A princess was stolen, and a wall was in the way. The wall was removed, and the princess recovered._

 _Hounds!_

Kawit sounded exasperated, and Lord Imrah's face lightened.

"I'm afraid Kel would agree. The King said that in Yaman she insisted she brought simplicity to a complex situation, however she involved many immortals and the Wild Hunt, and today fits that bill, in its own way."

 _There you go, Kawit. The Protector is sensible as well as pleasing in her simplicity of action._

 _A purity of purpose, Wuodan, not a simplicity of action. Consider the stormwings — to collect bodies to bury is simple, as was the means, yet nothing today was more complex than that marvellously unnatural event._

"You can leave us out of it." Cloestra winked at Taren as Wuodan began a rejoinder. "Not that they will, when we're being so interesting."

"So you are, Cloestra. Lord Mithros thought so, too."

"Did he? Well he should know."

"Indeed. And Lord Diamondflame finds Kel's, ah, stormwing reforms delightful."

"He would. My tunic certainly is."

"Yes indeed. How are you finding being clothed?"

Cloestra grinned and wriggled lasciviously, jiggling her cleavage. "Hot! And rather exciting. Who knew clothes had such uses?"

"Um, mortals?"

Cloestra's laugh was loud but not a cackle, and as she returned to the argument Kawit and Wuodan were enjoying Taren thought stormwing reformation was proceeding on its own. His attention switched to Var and Sam, encouraging Lachran to talk, while Lord Imrah kept a sideways eye on all three. Realising today had been for the young man what the assault on Unferth's redoubt had been for him and Sam, and sight of the newly dead found just as disturbing, Taren joined in, listening to a halting confession of horror as well as excitement, and offering assurances that he had felt much the same way.

"It's so strange." The burr in Lachran's voice was stronger than Taren remembered. "I know what Aunt Kel did at Rathhausak, and in the siege. During my first months here as a squire no-one talked of anything else. But today it was all I could do not to disgrace myself." His voice dropped. "If I'd had to see the hanging, I would have done, I think."

"I did see it, and my stomach was certainly turning, Lachran, but it was too interesting not to watch." Var frowned. "It wasn't just the Black God, or the spirits, though they were _fascinating_. Lord Biron's barely hit the ground before Anna's grabbed him and threw him at the god's feet, and he vanished. And her face! I've never seen such joy and rage together. But beyond all that, it was … I don't know, the _agreement_ , maybe. Gods, mortals, and the dead were _all_ furious with him."

"Kel was, Var, and Princess Lianne, and Anna's spirit." Sam frowned in turn. "I don't think the Black God does fury, and Lord Mithros didn't today, though he was content with the effects of Lord Biron's death. It calmed the eddy in the Timeway, he said, whatever that really means."

"If it's a metaphor they all use the same one." Var spread her hands. "And it means averting war. Wars, even — there would have been civil war in Galla as well as whatever Tortall would have done. And from what Lord Diamondflame said, the eddy was shrinking but it was only that last death that ended it, which makes sense if you imagine what his trial in Cría or Corus would have been like."

Taren nodded. "I think that's exactly right, Var. He must have had supporters who'd have caused trouble if he was still alive, but his death cuts it off. And his brothers' deaths probably matter too. However it turns the stomach, Lachran, it saved a lot more lives than it took."

"I know that in my head, my lord. It's just my stomach doesn't agree."

"I found that passes."

"It does." Lord Imrah rested a hand on Lachran's shoulder. "For better or worse, the burden becomes familiar. And don't go thinking you shouldn't feel it, squire of mine. You were the youngest combatant today, you did well when it mattered, and you can be as thankful as all of us that there wasn't much actual combat involved."

It struck Taren that by having Lord Imrah deal with freeing soldiers and horses Kel had neatly steered her nephew away from the greater possibility of combat she'd faced, as from the hanging, and bet both had been deliberate — one more example of taking burdens for others. He might have said something, but Var had a better idea.

"If your stomach's off, Lachran, feed it. Tar always insisted I eat when I was sick from something Joren did, and it works. It gives the stomach something better to do than fret. And I bet you're hungry — I am. We missed lunch so it's been hours, and they're serving. Come on."

Sir Voelden was listening to the immortals' argument about whether purity was simple or otherwise, but the rest of them went, Lord Imrah commending Var's sense. She was talking to Lachran, and Taren and Sam dropped back, Taren catching Lord Imrah's eye and speaking softly.

"Was there anything worse than bodies? I found seeing them bothered me less than seeing that thing Unferth made."

"I bet. But no, nothing like that. Warlan's body was a mess, though — gut wound — and Lachran knew him quite well. Some other dead too."

"Ah. We met him briefly, in Corus, and we're slightly dreading learning who the other dead are. Sam did a lot of training at the Own's barracks, and we all spent time there."

Lord Imrah nodded, and quietly ran off a list of names, but besides Warlan and one other Sam had once sparred with, none of the dead were much more than names to them.

"Thank you. I suppose grief is a lesson we all have to learn. I hope Squire Lachran doesn't find this one too painful."

"He'll be fine."

"Kel looks after everyone, doesn't she?"

"I thought you'd seen it. Not sure Lachran has yet." Lord Imrah shook his head. "And yes, she does, thank all gods for it."


	52. Chapter 53

Chapter 9: Chapter Eight - Names and Negotiators Chapter Text

 **Eight : Names and Negotiators**

 _New Hope, 21 June – 17 July 464 HE_

SAMRADH began as a close repeat of its eve, but there was no sense of foreboding, only joyous relief that the day had come at last. Some of that was down to Kel herself, beaming at the gurgling babies she and Dom held amid a swirling knot of excitable Mindelans and Masbolles, and managing to be both vibrant and serene her mood was a beacon, and even knowing that funerals awaited everyone was ready to be happy and thankful for and with her. There wasn't a sour face Taren saw, though one or two were unsmiling — Master Sternross, detained by Duke Baird in the infirmary overnight, as a precaution, was managing to be visibly alone despite the crowds, while Lord Avinar looked confounded as he considered his youngest sister. Taren didn't have much sympathy in either case — when gods you actually met failed to meet your expectations of them it was time to change your expectations, preferably without sulking — and there were far more interesting things to observe than foolishly affronted pieties.

He had emerged from the guest-wing at dawn to find dragons already present in, he believed, even greater numbers, but it was hard to tell because they had arranged themselves along the sides of the green parallel to the fin, and today the spatial magic made _them_ seem to be stacked all higgledy-piggledy, at absurd angles that kept shifting, while the main level seemed only slightly ruckled. Kel, in a fine blue dress, had grinned when she'd seen them, and Taren tagged along as she headed to Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow, more or less beside one another at the front of the nearer … row wasn't right, but neither was any other word he could think of.

"Good morning, my lords. You're very bright and early. Did you have a nice dance?"

 _Good morning to you also, Protector, and we did, thank you._ Lord Rainbow's tone shifted. _I trust our swift departure caused no offence._

"Not in the least." Kel cocked her head. "I'm not sure I entirely understand what was so funny, but then I had other things on my mind."

 _Indeed. Lianne of Conté is well?_

"As well as can be expected, thank you, though there will be much grief later. No help for it. But there is one more cheerful thing. Tobe didn't quite get the joke either, and found your dance very beautiful, as all did, so he asked Kit if _funny_ and _beautiful_ meant the same thing to dragons, and the answer seems to have come out a bit tangled. If one of you could manage some clarity during the day I'd be very grateful, or he'll be worrying at it for weeks."

 _It was your dance, Diamondflame._

 _So it was, Rainbow._ Spatial distortion or no, Taren was pretty sure that was a draconic fisheye directed at the eldest. _I am not sure explanations will help in so philosophical a matter, Protector, but I am always pleased to speak with Tobeis and my granddaughter._

"Thank you. Oh, and I am solemnly charged by Their Majesties to offer you both most heartfelt thanks for your aid to their daughter yesterday, acknowledging their debt, though they'll doubtless offer them in person if they get a chance."

 _They are coming here?_

"They are, and at lightning speed for royals. King Lewis we don't know about yet, but, um, are tending to presume."

 _Not without excellent reason, Protector. New Hope becomes quite the place for negotiations._

"I know, and of many kinds, though those between mortals always seem the hardest." Lord Diamondflame tactfully said nothing, and Kel smiled. "Oh well. We'll muddle through, I imagine. Does anything need saying about Junior's antics yesterday? Tobe said you were coming round to my point-of-view."

 _He gave me a fright, and I returned the favour._

"Tell me." Kel's smile became a crooked grin. "But you're better able to do so than I am."

 _So I should hope. I spoke to his parents as we arrived. They were quite apologetic, for griffins, and will make a greater effort to restrain him — for a while, at least._

"Every little helps. I should get to breakfast or the twins will never be named, but while it's very kind of you to, um, confine yourselves, I suppose, there's no need. It looks rather uncomfortable."

 _Many are finding that it is not so easy to web space as Kawit did yesterday._ Lord Rainbow sounded amused. _Diamondflame made his dance a teaching exercise as well as a celebration. If all had it right we would appear neatly braided, and all could see, but as many do not they keep trying. The practice is good for them._

"Oh." Kel's eyebrows were raised. "Neatly braided dragons is one for the books, but I'm all for practice. Do you need anything? Then we'll start as soon as people have eaten."

Taren lingered to greet the dragons in courtesy and ask if they still wished to speak to him and his siblings, or if Lord Rainbow's having read him and Sam yesterday obviated the need — which it had, though both said they would be glad to talk as leisure allowed. Taking a deep breath he confessed responsibility for equating danced laughter and beauty.

"Tobe was worrying for his Ma, my lord, because of the deaths and the Black God's gift, and shares her, um, practical attitude, so he was, well, somewhat affronted by others finding it funny. Your being moved to beauty rather than laughter seemed an ease, but I had no idea you'd be, ah, put back on the spot like this."

 _I dare say I shall survive Tobeis's interrogation, Taren of Stone Mountain._ Lord Diamondflame was clearly amused again. _And however his earnest protection of the Protector is itself a delight, I would not wish to offend him, so I am glad to understand why he asks. I can always claim that longer perspective in which the Protector's surprises are an arousing novelty, however grave their occasions. Nor were you wrong, for our dancing serves many purposes, humour and beauty among them._

Relieved, if curious about those purposes, Taren bowed and took himself off to a hasty breakfast. The messhall was packed, but as no-one felt like keeping dragons or Lady Kel waiting all were back outside in good time, icerunes fading as daylight brightened. Immortals again filled the terrace, a subdued Junior sitting by his parents and giving Lord Diamondflame cautiously resentful looks Cloestra was still in her tunic on a perch beside Queen Barzha and the visiting queens. If all of the Wild Hunt wasn't present there were still more hounds than Taren could count, tails wagging, and centaurs as well as spidrens had come in. Apprentices and Journeybeings formed their own group, extending to branch supervisors in training, and Taren felt both pride and a pang as he watched Var climb the steps to join them, sharing a look with Sam.

On the mortal front, a solid block of Mindelans and Masbolles stood before the steps to the shrines, flanked by Protector's Maids with other personal guests sparrows perched on shoulders, or fluttered above, and Peachblossom stood with Jump to one side. Rescuees formed another group, with Duke Baird and Duchess Wilina supporting Princess Lianne and Lord Ventnor, face richly hued with bruises but moving more easily than he had yesterday. The prospective godsparents who were present — the Prince and Princess, Neal and Lady Yukimi, and Mrs Weaver — trailed Kel and a beautifully turned-out Dom up the steps, arranging themselves by a large spellmirror held by Miss Loesia and Guydo, from which Lord Wyldon and others watched as Kel faced the crowd and shushed the excited baby she held. The crowd quieted too.

"My lords and ladies, Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, all guests, be welcome to New Hope and this Samradh nameday. It's been a while coming, but today Dom and I finally present to you and all the Realms our firstborn children. For those who still can't tell them apart, Dom has Lalasa, heir to our titles, and I have her just-younger brother, Merric. And before we begin, there are some things that need saying."

Taren again thought how complex Kel's voice could be, as joy was layered with sorrow, duty, and complexities he could not disentangle.

"Today of necessity sees loss as well as gain, naming followed by funeral. Those wrongly slain in Galla will be buried at Haven at noon — Master Fellon, Anna of Nicoline, and fifteen of the King's Own." She named them, and Taren wondered if she had known all personally, as well as who had spent the night digging graves and making coffins. "All who would come are welcome, but be aware close kin of the dead as well as Their Majesties will attend by spellmirror, and how long it will take is anyone's guess. And one thing more, for some have said it is ill-fated that funerals should occur today, yet while none of the dead should be so, they have their place in a greater pattern."

She looked to Dom, Lalasa in his arms, and Mrs Weaver.

"The names we bestow are themselves commemorations. Lalasa is named for Lalasa Weaver, Isran as was, a good friend when I had few, and the person truly responsible for the Protector's Maids. It is to me a great joy that she is here to stand as her namesake's godsparent, with Prince Roald and Lady Yukimi, as Princess Shinkokami, Sir Nealan, and Lord Wyldon will stand for Merric." The babe she held gurgled at his name, and she bounced him a little. "But he is named for one who cannot be here. Sir Merric of Hollyrose, himself wrongly slain, rests at Haven, and we would always have taken both newly named to honour that grave and remember a lost friend. And beyond that, Sir Alanna reminds me that the Black God brought Sir Merric's spirit to see his killer's death, as he brought Lady Anna's yesterday. The echo is an offering he makes to the Timeway, I think, giving hope that Sir Merric will be watching today, wishing his namesake well, and that even these most wrongful deaths, taking the faithful from us before their natural time, are not without meaning, as the dead are not without his solace."

Kel's voice deepened with yet more layers of dry rebuke and command.

"I am told my views are theologically problematical, but I doubt the gods care if that is so, and as I am this day the celebrant of both life and death, I say that sorrow will not lessen joy though joy leaven sorrow, as we honour lives already lived with those just beginning."

Caught up in admiration for Kel's clarity of vision and handling of the lurking problem she had just defused, Taren was taken aback by the crowd's swollen murmur of acknowledgement, _Lady Kel_ , flowing into a unified prayer, _So mote it be_. He realised he had spoken himself, with Var and Sam, and chimes rang, deep and pure, resonating in his skull as Kel's smile dazzled them.

"And so we are assured the gods hear us, wishing us well and patiently awaiting the offerings with which we begin, as every Samradh must."

She handed a mildly protesting Merric to a cheerful Neal, who easily balanced him on one hip, and was joined by Tobe and Irnai, both in new outfits and carrying trays with the Samradh offerings of summer fruits and wine. As she had at Beltane, Kel worked from the outsides in, criss-crossing from Lord Sakuyo to Lord Gainel, the Black God to Lady Shakith, before coming to Lord Mithros, the Great Goddess, and the central double shrine to Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady. Taren wondered about the order, the ambiguities of Lord Sakuyo being first or least, Lord Mithros preceding the Great Goddess, but however it might give some theological indigestion each shrine pulsed silver as Kel prayed, curtsied, and made the offerings. With the last, double shrine chimes sounded as silver flared dazzlingly, making Kel and the children step back and shield their eyes as other mortals went to their knees, and the hounds of the Hunt stood tall. Taren blinked away tears, and saw Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady were also in finery, matching forest-green robe and dress, both smiling as Kel curtsied.

"My lord, my lady, be welcome to New Hope."

"Always, Protector." Lord Weiryn's voice did not have the distant power of the great gods', but was astoundingly rich and deep. "And you have our warmest congratulations on your achievements yesterday. None of my brothers and sisters can recall any other mortal who has so surprised us twice in such swift succession."

"Thank you, my lord, though given the grace of the dragons and basilisks it seemed only common sense."

"Or uncommon sense, Protector." There was mirth in the Green Lady's voice, and Taren wished he could see Kel's face. "But don't let us delay your Nameday ceremony."

"You don't mind standing for yourselves again, then?"

"We come to do so, as well as to see our daughter. You have parents and godsparents here, so it seems proper for you to have gods too." Lord Weiryn's eyes were bright, and Taren swallowed laughter, wondering if that _proper_ had been aimed at Master Sternross. "Your children will be the keepers of our great shrine, so we are happy to bless them."

"Thank you again, my lord, my lady. On we go, then."

Tobe bowed and Irnai curtsied to the gods before returning to places by Piers and Ilane, and Kel faced the crowd again, apparently unruffled.

"Respects have been properly paid, so back on your feet, everyone. And as it's another of those occasions when I'm a participant as well as the celebrant, I'll be making up the protocol, again. Fortunately, ladies first and eldest first agree, so we start with Lalasa — or I should say both Lalasas, and Roald and Yuki."

Dom came with young Lalasa to stand beside Kel, and both held the babe to present her first to the crowd and then to the gods. Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, standing before their shrine, acknowledged her for themselves and on behalf of their brothers and sisters, and each bestowed a drop of silver on her head, provoking a surprised chunter the Green Lady stilled with a gentle finger. Then godsparents swore oaths of care, and Taren observed with interest the genuine pleasure as well as political satisfaction on Prince Roald's face, simpler joy on Lady Yukimi's, and exalted wonder on Mrs Weaver's as each commitment was acknowledged verbally by present gods.

Everything repeated for young Merric, down to his protest at the drop of silver and godly shushing. Princess Shinkokami smiled warmly at him despite nervy glances at the gods, and Lord Wyldon's firmly spoken oath was boosted by Numair, resting a hand on the spellmirror. In any other context the use of magic to enable an oath to be given, and proceedings witnessed, from a fief a good week's ride away would have been an amazement here, with gods and braided dragons observing, as well as the Wild Hunt, it seemed no more than the common sense Kel claimed for so many actions. It was just that she saw possibilities so clearly and swiftly, and had no hesitation in pursuing or combining them.

With the ritual completed, Kel told everyone there were no further formalities until the funeral procession departed for Haven a half-mark before noon, adding that nameday gifts — Taren had remembered, just, to give Eskry the matched napkin rings to pass on — were on show in the front wing, and a happy confusion developed. Adult dragons unbraided themselves, going to speak to kin among the younger dragons with space rippling about them — and there _were_ more, with at least five Taren did not recognise from yesterday — while hounds converged on Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, embracing their daughter and greeting Numair and their grandchildren. Mindelans and Masbolles similarly converged on Dom, with the twins and their godsparents, though Kel, Lord Imrah, Alanna, and Piers were speaking to Lord Wyldon in the spellmirror. Taren kept an eye on Var, but seeing her talking animatedly with Master Geraint went with Sam to pay his respects to Lord Wyldon.

As he suspected, there was a swift political briefing going on, and he gathered Lord Wyldon had faced the task of telling the family of one of the dead Ownsmen, senior liegers at Cavall, what had happened. He, and they, would be attending the funerals, if a mirror could be transported, and in the longer term, if the King's stay at New Hope was protracted, he would (Lady Vivienne's health permitting) once again head to Corus to support Prince Liam and Duke Gareth. He was also clearly, beneath ironic wonder at and sincere gratitude for Kel's actions, very angry with Lord Biron and by extension King Lewis, and Taren was reminded that the raked scars on his face had been suffered defending royal children.

When business faded into more personal talk Taren and Sam stepped forward, intending no more than polite greeting, but found themselves introduced to the whole party at Cavall. Lady Vivienne was there, looking well enough if a little flushed, and three grown daughters, Lady Sunarine, Lady Cathrea, and Lady Margarry, with her grey-eyed future husband, Sir Owen of Jesslaw, flanked by two handsome half-grown boarhounds. Both the hounds and Sir Owen were more interested in what they could see of the Wild Hunt, milling around their Huntsman, for which Taren did not blame them in the least, though he was pleased to meet Sir Owen, of whom he had heard tales. He offered congratulations on their engagement, and learned that the wedding would be next spring, when Lady Margarry came of age.

"It feels like forever, but it could be worse." Sir Owen had a very open smile. "My lord threatened to make us wait until Sunny and Cath were both married, but they didn't like it any more than we did so we all said we'd elope, and next year it is. Would you like to come?"

"If nothing at Stone Mountain prevents me, I would be honoured, Sir Owen, Lady Margarry."

"Good. It should all be very jolly. You're much nicer than Joren."

"I try." Lady Margarry scolded an unrepentant Sir Owen for his bluntness, and Taren laughed. "No offence taken, Lady Margarry. I rather hated my half-brother myself, but Kel's helped me get over it."

He told them about Joren's overwrought effigy and the shrine Kel had suggested, drawing grins from both, and less expectedly a smile from Lord Wyldon, who had been talking to Sam and was listening.

"A very proper course, Lord Taren, nicely combining piety and rebuke. And I am reminded I owe you a reply to your interesting proposal about scent dogs. I'm sorry for my tardiness but I have been busy. And you have had several unexpected adventures, I gather, and done very well."

"That would be one way of putting it, my lord, and your reply will be welcome anytime. I don't know about very well — I've tagged along more than anything — but I have certainly seen horrors and wonders, and learned a great deal. Lord Mithros seemed approving yesterday, and I am to inform my father that he prefers, I quote, _quality to quantity in prayer, and deeds to words_."

Lord Wyldon's eyebrows shot up. "Are you indeed? That is unusually direct."

"Isn't it? But unusually direct seems to happen a lot around Kel, one way and another. Perhaps her siege technique inspired him." Taren received an austere look, and returned a bland one. "Truly, my lord. He was, ah, amused and admiring, I think. So were the dragons."

"As well they might be." Lord Wyldon shook his head. "I am still trying to take it in. To reduce a walled city so swiftly and easily has far-reaching implications."

"Twenty-three minutes from first exchange to departure through the remains of the barbican." Taren tried an austere smile of his own. "Or so Lord Mithros said. As the god of war and justice he was not spectating idly, however the rest of us did little more than gawp."

"I expect he thought Kel was being interesting." Sir Owen nodded sagely. "Lord Weiryn said just now they'd all been surprised, but it's only Kel catching them out on their assumptions, as she does everyone. I'm only sorry to have missed it."

"A darking could show you sometime, Sir Owen."

"Well that's a thought." Sir Owen brightened. "Yaman too, maybe — that sounds as if it was very, well, not jolly, I suppose, with that silly lord and his lot, but fun all the same. Seeing all the hounds together is really something, and seeing them in action would be even better."

"So long as they weren't chasing you."

"No indeed." Lord Wyldon had been regarding Sir Owen with what Taren thought was mostly resignation, but turned an assessing gaze on him. "You have gained much poise, Lord Taren."

"Thank you, my lord. It was either that or scream."

"A familiar dilemma with Keladry. You are wanted, I think."

Taren turned to see Kel standing by Queen Barzha's perch and waving a hand in summons. He held up a single finger in acknowledgement, and turned back to the spellmirror.

"I must go, I'm afraid. Stone Mountain will be offering stormwing eggwifery in return for their services and we need to take advantage of today's gathering for some negotiations. It's good to see you again, my lord, and to meet you all, my ladies, Sir Owen."

He left them, drawing Sam along, with a pleasing sense of having occasioned some surprise of his own beyond not being like his vicious half-brother or ridiculous father. Skirting the knot of Mindelans and Masbolles talking to babies, godsparents, and one another, he saw that Tobe and Lady Skysong had between them collared Lord Diamondflame, sitting within the spread claws of an upturned paw while he listened gravely. Taren would happily have joined them, but duty called, and in the event the stormwings were very interesting too.

The visiting queens were Yashra Bluefeather, Thalia Grievousclaw, Minneh Sunblade, and Scorza Hardbite, and all were among the minority of stormwings who had not participated in the Immortals War, finding themselves subsequently barred from the Mortal Realm by gods' decree. They had thus suffered no losses, but confinement to the Divine Realm also meant prolonged starvation, in stormwing terms, so they had had no young since the Human Era began — a situation that had been fuelling resentful protest even before the fecundity of the Stone Tree Nation at New Hope became known. The gods' decree had not yet been formally rescinded, but permission had been granted for this embassy, and it seemed to be understood that as long as eggwifery was the principal purpose, and there was no trouble, a blind eye would be turned.

The lure of successful deliveries and incubations was powerful, but all four had mixed feelings. They were envious of Queen Barzha, astonished and thrilled by much about New Hope — not least an unexpected and very rich meal — and deeply fascinated by Kel, but taken more than a little aback by the reformed Stone Tree Nation. Not having had any mortal corpses to soil for more than four centuries they had long been clean, and had no problem staying so if emotional food was available, but had not understood how new a flight Queen Barzha was charting, and were grappling with the practicalities of mortal co-operation. Diplomacy, Guildwork, healing, and fetching-and-carrying when urgency beset groundpounders were all startling notions, and depths of immortal need warred with strengths of immortal caution.

Everything thus remained rather contingent, but Taren could and did undertake to ensure that two Stone Mountain healers would come to New Hope for training as soon as there was another Stone Tree Nation pregnancy — which Queen Barzha seemed to think would not be long a mage who knew the heating spell needed for the petrified blocks to aid incubation would also be available, and Sam started intent discussion by wondering aloud if an outer layer of petrified foam might not reduce the frequency with which the spell had to be re-applied. Experiments would be undertaken, and Kel gave Sam a clap on the shoulder for good thinking. Going the other way, Taren was clear that cleanliness and being treaty-bound not to harm any of his fief's mortals without his let were absolute requirements of residence, while the services formally sought were unterrorising, as emergency response and more extended care, with terrorising only in judicial need and at his specific request.

"Beyond that, Your Majesties, there are two things we might canvass. Besides the general interest and advantage of immortal conversation, there may be times when, um, an emotional reading of someone might be very helpful. I have inherited young, and there are those who may think to take advantage, as well as outright spies."

"You don't say." Queen Thalia's teeth flashed in a grin. "Duplicitous mortals? Whatever next? We can't read thoughts, you know.

"I do know, Your Majesty, but Queen Barzha and the Stone Tree Nation knew the absence of emotion in those loyalists of Maggur's, and knowing someone is _not_ feeling what their words suggest they ought to be could be very helpful."

"So it could." Kel gave him an approving look. "I've been wondering about that in relation to King Lewis's entourage, though I hope the Honesty Gate will catch any real danger. But you said two things?"

"I did, yes. Clothing." As Taren had anticipated, all the visiting queens and consorts became intent. "I don't know if the fastening spell Master Numair devised can be taught, but I would hope so, and I could certainly provide leather tunics in part payment for services rendered. We have embroiderers too, if not as talented as Mrs Spinner, but that would be a matter for individual arrangements — though I could deal with finances as a loan against service, if you didn't wish to bother with mortal money."

"You read us well." Queen Yashra's claws flexed, biting into the wooden perch. "Cloestra is … intriguing."

"To say the least." Queen Barzha's voice was very dry. "I've been in two minds about clothing, but I shall be wanting that tunic after all, Protector."

Kel had acquired young Lalasa from her father, who was listening, and rocked her daughter as she smiled.

"Will you, Your Majesty? It's waiting for you, and one for Lord Hebakh." A finger smoothed Lalasa's hair as Kel glanced at Taren. "A queenly tunic was one condition of Barzha's let for Cloestra's. Same basic design, but a glass crown on the back of hers and crossed steel feathers on his."

"Huh. _Craftsbeings Guild_ and names on the front?"

"Yes, with titles."

"We need some rules, then. Plainly only Guild members are entitled to be identified as such, and that's in Tortallan law — misrepresenting yourself as a guildmember is punishable by fines, or worse if safety as well as fraud is involved. And I assume only queens are allowed crowns, but are crossed feathers only for consorts?"

"Point. Barzha?"

"Who knows? We'll think about it."

All the queens and consorts were giving Taren looks, and he shrugged.

"Better to work it out in advance, Your Majesties. Clothing carries more than one message. Do you want nations differentiated by style or colours, or is it a free-for-all, crowns excepted? Is anything specifically forbidden? I would advise keeping rules simple — sumptuary regulation is always hard to enforce, and anything with leeway is next to useless."

"Simple is good." Queen Barzha's teeth gleamed. "Especially where we're concerned. There is a reason we're divided into nations, Taren, and you _really_ don't want to see a stormwing convention. The last one was when we were all locked into the Divine Realms, and no-one agreed with anyone about anything except being very unhappy about it."

Taren tried to imagine it, realised they'd all still have been stinking, and gave up. "No false claims, then, of membership or rank."

"That might be simple enough. Problems, problems."

But there was a glint in Barzha's eye, and she laughed when Scarlet extruded a head by her ear to squeak.

"Tunics fun?"

"Yes, tunics fun. Embroidery, too. Mortal fingers have so very many uses. But I think we have done what we can today, save for the primary problem that no stormwing in the Divine Realms will fall with egg if they don't feed well first. Protector?"

Kel shrugged. "The options remain the same, Barzha. Well, I dare say there'll be some upheavals in Galla, but I can't tell you where or get you invited, so there's the Scanran executions, the nervous coming here, though I'm not so keen on that, and the Wild Hunt — which is only a problem because of Lord Weiryn and the Hundred Year Rule. Let's see if he and Wuodan and Frige are free."

They were, or made themselves so, with the Green Lady, and Taren listened with fascinated disquiet to a discussion of how best to wrangle Lord Mithros into allowing a proper Hunt that stormwings might attend for purposes of fertility. Gods and hounds were willing in principle, but there were severe complications, ranging from divine caution in risking the liberty to visit Daine that Kel had previously wrangled, to Wuodan's and Frige's sharp sense of what the Wild Hunt did and didn't do, and whom exactly they were supposed to hunt. But Kel had an idea.

"Wuodan, you say Lord Mithros likes being offered answers. Well, he's just promised to make an effort about Chaos-taint in Scanra. Can you smell it? Or distinguish the guilt of those who have done wrong under its influence?"

 _Interesting question, Protector. We have never done so, but I cannot see why we should not. Guilt is guilt, and raw Chaos is distinctive enough._

"Try it? I'm thinking that if Your Majesties were to … threaten to become a nuisance, an offer from you and the Hunt, my lord, to help tackle Chaos-taint _and_ feed stormwings could, no offence to anyone, hit several birds with one stone."

"So it could, Protector." Lord Weiryn sounded interested. "The Scanrans might not be so keen."

"With some warning I don't think Jorvik or Ragnar would mind, nor some others. They don't want another Beorhtscyld, nor anything like, and it's hard to argue in favour of keeping Chaos-taint. But stormwings would have to be very disciplined — terror only at the Hunt's direction, and no messing. It might be better if it were not anyone's _first_ meal after such long deprivation."

"Indeed. The executions?"

There was a curious note in Queen Barzha's voice, and after a long moment Kel nodded.

"If you like. I can't say I much care how badly those men die, as long as they do. Jorvik and Ragnar will add to the tally, I expect, but you'll need to square it with them, and those who served Unferth's necromancy should be … unfavourably distinguished."

"I think we might manage that. I shall not be Jorvik Hamrsson's Headswing, nor any other of the Stone Tree Nation."

"Fair enough."

Taren was again struck by the contrast between how flexible and forgiving Kel could be, if you stayed in her good books, and how ruthless if you didn't. There was a kind of efficiency in it — if one had to have executions, let them serve every purpose they could — but also that seamless weaving of possibilities arising from very different events and needs, all informed by a formidably accumulated understanding of immortals and gods alike. The stormwings seemed to think so too, and Queen Yashra's claws flexed again.

"You are being exceptionally helpful, Protector."

"Why shouldn't I be, Your Majesty, when I can be?"

 _You will grow used to it, Yashra. Just don't mind being surprised far more often than is reasonable._

Kel flapped a hand at Wuodan, making Lord Weiryn grin.

"Everyone's surprised most of the time just now, Wuodan, as you know perfectly well. Just consider, Your Majesties. Thanks to King Jonathan being … well, foolhardy, really, however it paid off, the roil has delivered real change, in at least four mortal nations so far, or five maybe, counting Galla, and the Divine Realm is not exempt. I told Moonwind yesterday, and with the Dragonlands in play your eyries are as well. But you need to think about the nature of the changes, because they are in general promoting peace. Good for mortals, and very good for our children, but not so good for you, or yours — unless you follow the flight Barzha's charting. And really, do you _want_ to go back to rolling around on battlefields and having everyone with a nose avoid you? Or for that to be the lives of the young you so desire?"

Queen Barzha only looked ironic, but the other queens and their silent consorts were staring.

"It is our purpose, Protector."

"Nonsense, Your Majesty. Your purpose is to prevent war. Dishonouring its dead so … colourfully was a means, of a sort. I can't say I've ever seen much evidence it worked. And you have an alternative means. Both in Yaman and yesterday, the Stone Tree Nation has had more than a claw in stopping two wars before they could get started. You helped yourselves yesterday, and while there won't always be that kind of feast available being involved in keeping mortal peace has to be more interesting and gratifying than moping about in your eyries. Now Dom and I need to take the twins to Merric's grave, if we're to be back in time, so if you'll all excuse me. My lord, my lady."

And with nods to Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady Kel was gone, leaving immortal shock and divine amusement in her wake. Scratching Frige's ruff with one hand, Lord Weiryn raised an eyebrow at his wife.

"Thanks to Jonathan of Conté the roil brought real change? And she probably believes it."

"He played his part."

"She played a greater, and still does." He looked at the stormwings. "She has a point about purpose and means, though. You are bound to your dreamer's purpose, and to the form she imagined for you, but not to any particular means of achieving that purpose."

"She is right also that change comes to all. It was a great roil. And for our daughter's sake, if nothing else, I will aid your eggbirths as I can in memory of Rikash Moonsword."

As a conversation about egg-bearing developed Taren hastily promised to dedicate shrines to both gods at Stone Mountain as soon as it had a new temple, before he and Sam escaped to collect Var and change into more sombre attire. Others were beginning to do likewise, and being in good time meant they could eat an early lunch without haste — only a light meal, given the feast due in the evening, but welcome after such a long and varied morning. As more people in dark colours came in to the messhall the mood shifted, sorrow acknowledged but without gloom, and Taren saw that some still in festive clothing had black armbands. Var's polite enquiry revealed that Kel had asked Mrs Spinner to organise the Maids into making several hundred overnight, and he wondered if there were anything she had not thought of, rueing that he had not even begun to consider the practicalities of burying seventeen — of which, now he did, there were very many. He said as much to Sam and Var, and Lord Imrah, seated across the table, agreed.

"Kel thought of the bands, so those without a change of clothes don't feel uneasy about being disrespectful. There were some coffins in store, others were made and headwoods carved, and Kuriaju had ogres digging graves without being asked, but Vanget and Alanna took on some of it. The deaths need to be properly recorded, and they recovered effects and armour. Baird and Neal removed bolts as well — not pleasant, but they have a Gallan maker's mark — and we have a darking record of the dead after they were washed and laid out. Alanna and Kel also prodded the King to contact any families in Corus or close enough to get to the Palace for noon today, so there may be quite a crowd in the mirrors."

If so it would not be the only one, for the procession that formed behind Kel, surrounded by her Guard and leading the carts carrying coffins, was as long as it was peculiar. However Princess Shinkokami might feel mortals should not walk beside gods she had to do so herself, for Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady accompanied the three royals, their clothes darkening to the deep greens of shady forest while hounds streamed alongside. Paired ogres bore two large spellmirrors, rescuees came next, and assorted nobles, Mindelans, and guests followed, Taren, Sam, and Var among them, with Maids and Guildmembers behind. The many other mortals and immortals were mixed, though spidrens and centaurs formed blocks. Dragons exited over walls but paced alongside the column once it reached the Great North Road, spatial magic flickering about feet to keep them to mortal speed, and stormwings glided above — Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh already in their tunics — with sparrows fluttering around them.

For the previous funeral Taren had attended at Haven mourners had ridden, but adding scores of horses to this procession would have made for delay and confusions, and the long walk allowed the sobered mood to mature into a dignity of witness. There was a brief pause at the foot of the roadway that climbed to Haven, while fighting ogres shouldered coffins and carts moved out of the way, but all then flowed up and into their places as if marshalled — not least, Taren realised with a blink, because dragons were providing more than space for themselves. Nor did hounds, neatly gathered around Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, seem to take up anything like the room so many large creatures ought to, while mortals instinctively packed themselves as tightly as possible and sparrows found willing shoulders.

In the end far more beings were arrayed around the row of open graves than was remotely reasonable, and though the King's and Queen's faces were very still he could see deepening astonishment joining grief on many faces surrounding them in the spellmirror. Sir Esmond, with his parents and surviving siblings, all red-eyed and plainly devastated, had places of honour beside Their Majesties, Princes Liam and Jasson, and Princess Vania, but besides Duke Gareth, Ettenor of Aili, and some others Taren knew, there were many he could not name in King's Own and regular army uniforms, as well as an extended family beside Lord Wyldon's in the other mirror, also heartstruck. Yet Kel's prayer was borne out, for the sight of gods and dragons honouring the dead was as much comfort as there could be and an exaltation in itself, increasingly charging the dignity of grief with strange energies as Kel raised a hand and all stilled.

Surprising everyone, she and Dom walked silently to the shrine of the Graveyard Hag, producing a bag of grain and wineflask, heartstoppingly a bone, and a cone of incense. Kel lit it, laying the bone at the foot of the shrine, and as she made the offering of fruits thanked the Black God's daughter and Dabeyoun for their care of Haven's dead, commending to them those who would rest here from today. Chimes sounded, and the carved hyena pulsed silver, causing a stir Kel ignored as she returned to her place by the first grave, and Dom went to stand by Tobe and Irnai.

"We come this Samradh to unexpected funeral, mourning seventeen taken wrongly taken from us, honouring their lives and service, yet rejoicing that we know from the Black God's own lips, with the witness of Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, Sarra Beneksri, that he has all their souls safely in the Peaceful Realm, where his judges look kindly on them. It is our custom here at Haven that remembrances of the dead be spoken by all who wish to do so, and that when all is done we depart in silence. And so we begin."

The ogres bearing Master Fellon's coffin came forward and lowered it gently into the waiting grave. He had been unmarried and no family were present, but Numair spoke of his kindness and absent-mindedness, intense loyalty to the House of Conté, the chagrin and relief he'd feel at having been unable to defend Princess Lianne and at her deliverance Daine added her second-hand gratitude for aid to Numair, and memory of his fondness for bad puns. The King spoke of long and faithful service, supported by Duke Baird, Duchess Wilina, Piers and Ilane, Lord Imrah, and Lord Wyldon Princess Lianne and Lord Ventnor ended with words of his assistance to the embassy and the treachery that killed him. Then Kel stood at the head of the grave and spoke the benediction.

"Master Fellon lived and died in our service, and I pray he finds his death his grace, as the Black God's mercy is infinite. So mote it be."

Chimes sounded as wind soughed through burning silence. Lord Weiryn gestured silver with one hand, and earth piled by the grave slid silently and swiftly into it, the mound immediately greening as the Green Lady also gestured. Kel's face was very still for a second before she bowed briefly to the gods and gestured herself, an ogre immediately coming forward and driving home a carved headwood that bore Master Fellon's name and dates, with the simple legend **A Faithful Servant of Tortall** at a second gesture, young Amir'aan came from his place among the basilisks, and the rock-spell made an obsidian headstone, gleaming in the afternoon light as the ceremonies moved on.

Anna of Nicoline's funeral was next, and the hardest by far, not only in the rawness of her parents' and siblings' grief, keeping their spoken memories brief, but in the tormented words of Princess Lianne that followed, guilt, gratitude, and guilty relief at the forgiveness Anna's spirit had offered blending into a wrenchingly emotional testimony. Their Majesties' faces were stone while it lasted, but Queen Thayet then spoke, voice strained as she recalled a Lady-in-Waiting appointed young for her friendship with Princess Lianne and proving a treasure, as well as a critical defender, owed the fullest thanks by all one who would be greatly and sorely missed. Lord Ventnor and others of the embassy remembered kindness and good cheer, a love of apples and dislike of cauliflower, with an occasionally mischievous tongue. Finally, Kel ended it with a clear statement of Anna's mixed rage at her death and joyous relief that it had bought sufficient time for her mistress to be saved, with her witness of her killer's execution and hurling his spirit at the Black God's feet, the whole sworn to by gods' oath. Chimes sounded as Taren's eyes searched grieving faces in the mirror, seeing comfort, and with the benediction wind again soughed through that silence behind all things. The headwood placed at the filled and greened grave was like Master Fellon's but bore an extra line, **She Saved Whom She Served**.

The Ownsmen' funerals were each briefer, though the king formally acknowledged every man, but collectively longer. Most speakers were among the uniformed survivors and those watching with the king or Lord Wyldon, including Ettenor of Aili, very grim-faced, but Princess Lianne and Lord Ventnor with other members of the embassy said what they could. Dom and Captain Uinse also spoke several times, with soldiers of New Hope First and Second, for the dead had been veterans of the siege, and Kel _had_ known them all, if not well. Sam also spoke briefly for Warlan and the other man he'd sparred with, remembering kindness to a stranger, useful lessons, and words of encouragement. Amir'aan continued to petrify headwoods, his somewhat quieter rock spell punctuating the succession of memories, and Taren wondered why it fell to the youngest basilisk there might be practical considerations, but he also felt in his bones that it was right. With the last burial complete, Kel briefly addressed the fates of those who had planned and executed the ambush, confirming the deaths of Lords Julian and Etenne, and the mage, with at least some of their men, in the destruction of Aussonne's walls and barbican, before thanking the Black God for his care of their spirits and judgement of their murderers'. Wind soughed one last time, and Kel turned to the spellmirrors.

"We have done all we can to ease and honour the dead, and know them safely with the Black God, however grievously missed. Would you say anything more ere we depart Haven, sire?"

The king's eyes were dark, his face drawn. "Only to offer you, on Our behalf for all, Our great thanks for your astonishing service yesterday and today, in valour, justice, and mercy and to offer the dragons and basilisks Our heartfelt thanks also for helping to save Our daughter, and so avert war and very many more funerals."

He gave Kel a bow, as did all mortals present, and she nodded but made a slight gesture of negation.

"I second the thanks to dragons and basilisks, sire" — she turned to Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow, bowing and receiving their nods — "and speak for all in thanking Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady for their grace this day."

All bowed or curtsied again, and Lord Weiryn inclined his head.

"You and all are welcome, Protector, and I too am glad mortal war will not return to my lands. These dead have more blessings than mine and Sarra's, and Haven will be ever a place of peaceful rest."

With no more to be said Kel offered one last bow to the graves, echoed by the crowd, and in a deep yet not uncontented silence led gods, royals, survivors, and all down to the road and back towards New Hope — not, Taren thought, that they had ever truly left it.

In the aftermath of Samradh things settled down while anticipation steadily ratcheted up. The evening feast had been wonderful, laughter flowing around the presence of the High Ones, but Taren found his memories fragmented — an effect Kel wryly said she was familiar with — and the only thing he was certain of was that with duty done the gods had been more interested in spending time with their family than with anyone else. There had been a certain amusement in watching Lord Avinar staring and sensibly not working up sufficient courage to intrude with questions that would not have been answered to his satisfaction but there had also been the flash of pure envy on his face when, after the feast and dancing — in which Kel twice partnered Lord Weiryn — the god kissed her forehead in farewell, and the Green Lady embraced her, offering thanks for all that she did.

During the interval between funerals and feast Taren had been involved in a discussion about unterrorising with stormwings, Duke Baird, Neal, other healers and some who had been helped, including Vorinna, and had the satisfaction of knowing His Grace would inform army healers and more, so that when Stone Mountain had resident stormwings patients might be sent there. The notion of his smirched fief gaining a reputation as a place of healing pleased him (and Sam and Var) enormously, and there had also been the intimidating delight of dragontalk, primarily to ask Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow to drive home Kel's advice to their neighbours the stormwings whenever occasion might arise, and pass on any knowledge about the late Lord of Aussonne that came to them, but also about the Firestone. Both senior dragons were cautious, saying that Shakith was as rarely clear as she was wrong, but sure that whatever instinct had prompted his gift was one to heed, and that he and his siblings were of the Timeway, in whatever measure.

 _That your father's abdication was the roil reaching Stone Mountain is clear_ , Lord Diamondflame had said, _and it is interesting that you felt it right to come here, to be caught up in the Protector's suppression of two eddies. As Rainbow says, it is also striking that you are the youngest lord of Tortall, for much in all this has turned upon the youngest of their kinds. But advice is a dangerous thing, and I would say only to continue, trusting yourself and not being intimidated by the old — even us, not that you show much sign of being so._

With that Taren had to be content, and found he was. Seeing (but not hearing) a long discussion Kel had with all adult dragons, clustering around her on the green as she and Dom encouraged the twins to push themselves up off their tummies and crawl, he decided that while he would not say he knew his limits — much might still stretch them — he was beginning to miss Stone Mountain that for all the wonders here, and his gratitude at being a part of them, he had his own fief to look to in his own ways. Dragons and gods were profoundly astonishing, deeply wonderful, but also distractions from mortal business, and he salved his conscience next day by writing at length to his mother and aunt, and Svein, giving a full account of all that had passed, as well as bringing his journal up to date.

Kel's birthday, three days after Samradh, was blessedly peaceful, if not quiet — a family day with friends, punctuated by immoderate quantities of food and good cheer while New Hope hummed around them. Many liegers stopped by with gifts, often of their own making, but none lingered, and while warmly thankful for all, including the opal brooch Taren gave on behalf of his siblings as well as himself, Kel spent most of her time with her twins and other younglings, surrounded by older nephews and nieces. Even Lachran was there, firmly off-duty for the day, and watching them Taren thought Kel found such company as cleansing as she found nursing redemptive, and that Lachran was benefiting as well. She also persuaded Lady Yukimi, Princess Shinkokami, Ilane, Tobeis, and Irnai into a game of fan-toss, other children standing well back, and for the first time Taren, Sam, and Var saw the full rhythm, assigned partners succeeded by open choice of recipient, fans closed and then gleamingly open, the whole as elegant, smooth, and graceful as it was potentially deadly.

There were more serious moments, not only because Princess Lianne was there, still deeply grieved, if increasingly angry as well. The day being gloriously sunny, knots of adults wound up scattered around lawn, house terrace, and various rooms, and amid idler conversation politics and military realities made repeated appearances. More than Lord Wyldon knew that what Kel had done had far-reaching implications, but it was General Vanget who saw most clearly, speaking to Piers and Lord Thomas, though many were listening, including immortals.

"Forget the barbican. It was spectacular but could've been something else. Point is the absolute efficacy of a mixed mortal and immortal force, whatever it faces. It's not a new idea — it's obvious immortals have abilities any commander'd love to have available, and both Ozorne and Maggur tried it, using magic to coerce. And they had some success, but in the longer run it didn't work out well for either of them. But Kel's commanding a wide range of volunteers and turning new theory into very smooth practice. And until someone else figures out how to get themselves the loyal co-operation of immortals up to and including dragons, and the blessings of massed gods, what we have is a new absolute. Go up against the Guild and you're going down, fast and permanently. Short of magery at Numair's level, there's no obvious defence, though what'd happen if Kel ever faced a real army in open battle is one to ponder. Can't see what army that could be, though. So where the problems will be is with people — mortals, I mean — who don't think it through." His head swung. "No idea how this sort of thing works, Kawit, but if I could I'd be warning immortals everywhere in this Realm that stupider and greedier leaders, and more frightened ones, are going to be looking at them very covetously as this news spreads."

 _That is a wise thought, Vanget haMinch, and I will make sure word is passed. Such dangers have always existed, but the less experienced would be well reminded to take care. And your analysis is correct. None other can command so widely as the Protector, and the debt she is owed runs ever deeper._ The opal dragon's mindvoice became more reflective. _As does her mastery of spiritual warfare. The Yamani perfect state takes two_ sensei _, but the Protector strives to achieve it when there is no other, a minimal violence averting a far greater._

"Hah." General Vanget grinned. "I can see that, sort of. The sound of one hand clapping, _very_ loudly." Many laughed. "Don't know the analogy really works, Kawit, but I take the point. Gods know Kel can do slugging matches if she has to — the siege was, in its way — but she'd rather a clean killing blow, and the spiritual warfare thing multiplies its effects many times over." He frowned, thinking. "Some of it's the means, and the shock of those means, with their speed. The rest seems to be memorable … well, not graves, despite Genlith's, but whatever you call those petrified rebels in Yaman, and now that gibbet at Aussonne."

Taren had been thinking about names. "The Yamani ones are the Stone Fools, General, courtesy of Tobeis, and surely Lord Biron was and is another Stone Fool. But Daine says the phrase doesn't work in Gallan, and what might is _le Pendu Pierreux_ — the _Stone Swinger_ , I suppose we'd say, however he won't be doing much of that."

"Taren!" Ilane had a hand to her mouth, but her eyes were laughing. "You're getting as bad as Tobe at deadpan jokes."

"I'm flattered. But I was thinking we — I mean those negotiating with King Lewis — might want a plain way of referring to the lesson Lord Biron now, ah, embodies."

"So we might." Piers had a cat snoozing on his lap. "And I wouldn't count yourself out of any negotiations, Taren, if you're still here. All else aside, Stone Mountain is a big player in the Drell trade, on which Galla depends quite heavily. I do agree with Vanget that Kel has a habit of providing memorable graves, but there are good ones as well as the terrifying, like Genlith's. Poor Merric's, as well as those from yesterday. All that swift greening! My heart was very full."

"Mine too. I wondered if the Green Lady had been talking to Lord Sakuyo — he did as much with flowers for the graves of Renna Eriksdottir and Braka Haraldsdottir, and they're becoming a place of pilgrimage. Wuodan said that when the Scanrans who offered, ah, Guthlaf … Eriksson and his wife, went to place the headstones quite a few other pilgrims and some Dragonstowners went along to see."

"Mmm." Beside him Var stirred, looking thoughtful. "I heard that too. I've been wondering about it as my apprentice project. No mining needed, but a fair amount of stonework, for wayhouses and latrines, and maybe things like the path to the hanging valley, as well as whatever we created at the site itself."

Sam blinked. "No offence, Var, but isn't it too big for an apprentice project?"

"Maybe, Sam, but maybe not. Pretty much every pilgrim who comes here goes to see Drachifethe as well, and the same in reverse — it's a fair step but good safe roads. Going up to those graves is another matter, and I hear Captain Mikal's already doing some gentle discouraging of the elderly and those with young children. So you could go two ways — a big effort, making it possible even for the frail, or something less, maybe much less, accepting that it has restrictions. Cheaper, of course, but also maybe better. Less disruptive, certainly. What I don't know about is the politics. Does Kel want lots of people going to see them, and thinking about Unferth's horror?"

"Kel's in two minds about that one, Var." She had drifted in from the garden with Lady Ryokel, and sat in a vacant chair, the child on her lap. "But she does _not_ want another major or urgent drain on resources, and thinks word from those who do go might be well enough for many. Do you really want to do it as an apprentice project?"

"Maybe. I know why I couldn't go with you and Tar and Sam, but I find part of me wants to go there now I can. And another part of me says I'd want to less if it were all a wonderful basilisk road. I like the idea of minimal impact, too. At Stone Mountain there's never been much care about that — just get the ore and dump the spoil anywhere — but we'll be changing things as we can. And for all the Pilgrim's Way is being done very carefully, it still carves through the land. If there was a road anyway it would be different, but there isn't, just a path, and maybe it should stay that way — an improved path, with simple wayhouses for food and shelter, but still a path, rather than a road. Oh, and I thought you could invite donations from the pious — those who can't manage it would happily make a contribution, I'd think. I'd like to myself, really, in money as well as work, to mark how much it mattered to Tar and Sam."

There was a silence in which Taren kicked himself. "Sorry, Var. I'd not thought that you might need to—"

She put a hand on his arm, smiling. "No, no, Tar. I've only just thought about it myself."

"Well, Stone Mountain could certainly make a contribution, marking how it mattered to all of us."

"Mmm." Kel was smiling too. "It's a kind thought, Tar, and I'll not be turning down any contributions — pilgrims cost a good deal before they make any return — but I like Var's minimalism. The roads between here and Dragonstown serve more than pilgrims, but the path to those graves won't go anywhere else. Well, it might connect with the southern pass over the Grimholds Spur, I suppose, but that's not much more than a goat-track, by all accounts. And what we actually do there is a good question. A hostel, clearly, but what else, if anything?"

"A shrine to the Black God?" Mischief and something more tickled Taren's tongue. "Or one to Lord Mithros's acknowledgement of rebuke?"

Kel gave him an old-fashioned look, though her mouth twitched, and Piers looked stern, but others didn't.

"I'll take that under advisement, Taren."

"More seriously, then, there should be a priest of the Black God."

"Yes, there should, but I can't say the ones I've met in Corus inspired much confidence. And living up there is hardly an attraction, especially in winter — unless we made it seasonal, I suppose."

"Oh I don't know, Kel — the site of a known and recent outpouring of grace, within New Hope, ought to get some attention. I grant you the winter, but there have to be some sensible younger divines who'd consider a year or two, if it would lead on to something. I can talk to Archdivine Holloran when I pass through Corus, if you like."

"That might be helpful, thanks." Kel shook her head. "It'd be a very odd job description, and who knows where I'll find hostel keepers? But if Kuriaju has no objections, Var, you could undertake a survey and write up a proposal — go see, and tell me what minimal would mean in practice?"

"Surely, Kel. Master Kuriaju knows I've been thinking about it, so a survey's the proper step. And I don't mean to dwell on bad things, but if you're going to cleanse Rathhausak we should factor that in, because if it's open some pilgrims will head there as well."

"Yes, they will." Kel sighed, shifting Ryokel on her lap. "Won't they just, poppet? It has to wait on these negotiations, but I'll be about it as soon as I can, Var. Delay's unfair to Zerhalm, and all wrong anyway. And what will they see, if they go?"

"Whatever you want them to, Kel. What do I know, never having been there, but if the castle's being melted, what shape do you want it left in? A memorial, I assume, that soothes rather than scares, but it could be anything. Amir'aan and Bel'iira were wondering what you'd want."

"Were they? I hadn't got that far. I must talk to Zerhalm. And suggestions are welcome, but just now Ryokel needs some food. Shall we find your ma, poppet?"

Kel wandered out again, calling for Lady Yukimi, Var went in search of Master Kuriaju, and Sam and others agreed yet more food was in order. Taren stayed put, acquiring the cat from Piers, and wondering if it wouldn't be best to put the hostel in the main rather than the hanging valley, until he found himself under scrutiny from Lord Thomas.

"My lord?"

"Just wondering how you do it, Lord Taren."

"Do what?"

"Manage to help with what's needed here. I've a great regard for Keladry and my grandchildren, but I don't mind saying I feel all at sea here, mostwise. What do I know about gods, or have to say to dragons? But you and your siblings seem to fit right in. Is there a secret?"

Taren almost made a rude retort, but it occurred to him that acquiring Kel as a daughter-in-law was probably a more bracing experience than anyone might reasonably expect, so he only smiled and shrugged.

"No secret, my lord, unless it's being practical. For all we tried we had not anticipated what we'd find here, and it's as much a neverending set of surprises for us as for everyone, but however Kel uses means beyond the rest of us, what she wants is usually clear enough, I've found. And as we came here to apologise, set things right, and learn what we can of Kel's wisdom, we try to get on with it."

"Huh. Just like that." Lord Thomas had an introspective look. "At Masbolle I know what I'm supposed to do, and do it well enough, I hope. But Keladry rewrites all the rules. Hard to believe something completely all your life and find out it's all a mistake."

Taren blinked. "Now that I can understand well, actually, my lord. Nothing my father and uncle taught me turns out to be worth spit. What were you mistaken about, if I may ask?"

"The list gets longer every day, but I was thinking of the Duty of Silence." He saw Taren's frown. "About one's Ordeal of Knighthood."

"Oh. I'm sorry, my lord, but as I was never considered remotely worthy of knight training it wasn't something I knew about. Kel did mention it, though, when we spoke about what the elemental had told my father. I can see that would be a shock, but it's one every knight is facing, so perhaps there's comfort in numbers, or in that we now _know_ what the elemental does and doesn't care about, rather than guessing. And better to have been silent when you needn't, surely, than to have spoken when you shouldn't?"

"There's that, I suppose." Lord Thomas didn't seem much comforted. "And it's not as if any knight I've met wants to talk about it anyway. Makes me wonder about Domitan never wanting knight training himself. I wanted it for him, and he was more than good enough, but no, off he went to the Own. When he came back halt I was at my wit's end as to how we could help him, and riding the fief was costing him so dearly. Then he took off again, and I didn't know what to think except we'd be lucky to see him alive again. Next thing I know he's got himself promoted, married, and ennobled, and now he's friends with the king and the Council of Ten and at ease with everyone!"

"And why is that a problem, my lord?"

"Eh?"

"You married into a ducal family, and so did Domitan." Lord Thomas blinked. "Now your son is a decorated veteran, father as well as husband to a countess, and deeply necessary to the most important mortal born in centuries, and you're grumbling?"

"I am, aren't I?" A smile glimmered onto the lined face. "And he did, didn't he just? Don't think I'm not proud of him too, my lord. Always. It's just … well, how do you learn to be the father-in-law of, what did you say? The most important mortal in centuries."

"Same way as for any daughter-in-law, my lord, I'd think. Is it any different from Kel needing friends a lot more than she needs supplicants or mistaken pieties?"

"I dare say not, Lord Taren, but easier said than done, all the same. Truth to tell, I find Keladry very intimidating, and that ties my tongue."

"Has time not eased it, my lord?"

"Well, yes. To a degree. And I can't say she isn't always welcoming. But then she ups and does something else impossible, and I'm dumbstruck all over again."

"Then you're in good company. Do you honestly think the rest of us are not? But you're doing the right thing anyway, my lord — you wanted to know how to help, rather than wanting help to get what you want, and that makes you a rare commodity. I came with an agenda, less selfish than most, I hope, but still, and so do most. And Kel has to deal with them, as she'll have to deal with the king's, so being without one, save loving your children and grandchildren, is a great blessing you offer her." The cat rose on his lap to circle twice and curl up again, facing the other way, and inspiration struck. "And when the twins are of an age for it, or Kel's preoccupied with nursing their younger siblings, I'll bet that a home away from home, somewhere that _isn't_ full of gods and dragons as often as not, will be a really important role for Masbolle in the twins' education. They won't know how unusual New Hope is otherwise."

"Well now, that's a notion. Thank you, my lord. Normal we can manage well enough."

The return of others with food, and a passing scamper of children intent on some game, shifted the conversational pattern again, and Taren spent a while talking with Mrs Weaver while Jump sprawled at her feet, ignoring the wary cat. When she moved on, collected by Guydo for some pressing reason, Ilane dropped into the chair to offer amused commendation on his handling of Lord Thomas, which she'd overheard, and drew him out about his mother and Aunt Lily, asking if he thought they should be coaxed to Corus. And so the day went, filled with useful and more casual talk as well as excellent food, but for Taren above all an object lesson in what loving family life could be, and Stone Mountain's had never been.

With celebrations over the Crown Couple had been supposed to depart immediately that was on hold, but others needed to return to Corus and elsewhere. Alanna and Baron George stayed, as did Neal and Lady Yukimi, Princess Lianne, and all survivors of the embassy, but Piers and Ilane departed for Mindelan with Sir Inness, promising to return when King Lewis was known to be on his way, and Duke Baird with Duchess Wilina, Lord Imrah with a glum Squire Lachran, massed Mindelans, Masbolles, and Maids with the Weavers and Mrs Spinner all headed south. Some of their escort remained as a guard for the royals, and Kel made up the shortfall with two squads drawn from New Hope First and Second who for various reasons could use a few days' leave in Corus. General Vanget and Lord Ferghal also left, taking Lady Demadina and her family, though Lord Avinar remained so did Sir Anders, a decision Taren realised was both support for Kel and because, as Piers's ducal heir, he felt he should be more politically involved than he had been when Mindelan had been only a barony. But with the guest-wing relatively empty that humming routine reasserted itself more strongly.

Kel herself, besides a driving attack on paperwork accumulated while she'd been busy, spent promised time with the apprentice branch supervisors, warning them she'd be distracted again soon enough. Though in no way calculated, her timing was, Taren thought, perfect, for while all the volunteers were genuine, and had already absorbed much about New Hope, events of Samradh and its eve had, unsurprisingly, sat them all bolt upright. Knowing of grace and miracles was one thing, seeing them with one's own eyes another, and reasonable self-interest that had already been twined with wonder had metamorphosed into a new gravity of purpose and understanding of the Guild's power. They were therefore ripe for Kel's own instruction as Guildmaster in what they would need to do, noble hesitations and uncertainties that could be accommodated, and those that would not be. Listening to several sessions, Taren was struck by how acute Kel's teaching was, how well she read people, soothing or prodding with great precision — but then, if she could do it for dragon apprentices, he didn't suppose minor nobles presented much of a challenge.

Having a good head for figures and logistics, Var spent a couple of days with Lady Yukimi, who was tackling the need to ramp up pickle production without compromising quality. Taren had become very fond of several kinds often to be found at Kel's table, especially _umeboshi_ , but was staggered to learn the prices they could command in Yaman, and intrigued by the diplomatic importance of the new trade. What Lady Yukimi thought essential was also an education : any self-respecting Yamani could, as she showed, distinguish ingredients sliced with a truly honed knife from those cut (or bludgeoned, as she tartly observed) with a blunt one, and such things affected taste as well as appearance as (she swore) did the exact shape, straight being straight, and curved, curved. After consulting Kel, one answer was that there would be twice as many pickle-preparers as one might expect, each doing a mark on with a mark off, so they could always concentrate, and a second the promotion to overseer of a former Tirrsmonter cook with a reputation for irritable perfection and a fiercely spotless kitchen. Strong words were also had with those who would be preparing extra pickling fluids, from fermented mead to brine using spring water and Mindelan sea-salt.

The charitable tithe Kel had insisted on, with the shrine to the Green Lady she'd sponsored in Heian-kyó, acknowledging the blessing of New Hope's earth and the contribution divine associations made to price and sales, was another fascinating example of the careful respect for gods that underpinned her practical demands of them. Piers had said something along those lines about her banter with Lord Sakuyo, relaxed but always in the correct mortal-to-divine Yamani mode, and Taren found himself thinking hard about that, with Lord Mithros's liking for those who offered answers. Finding Lord Avinar and Master Sternross silently watching Daine teaching the apprentices one morning, he broached the issues both had been avoiding.

"Good morning, Lord Avinar, Master Sternross."

"Lord Taren."

He sat. "Have you recovered from your apoplexy, Master Sternross?"

"Apparently. If that's what it was." The old man sounded as grumpy as ever. "I believe I owe you thanks for your assistance that day."

Taren waved a hand, though the mage's failure to offer any courtesy before had struck him. "You're welcome, Master Sternross, though I cannot speak for Lord Saman, who also aided you. I was wondering, though, if you knew whether it was piety or rage that overcame you?"

"R-rage?"

"Oh yes. You seemed so very angry with Lord Mithros for failing to be as you think he ought. I confess I was surprised you thought it proper to be so." Lord Avinar shot him a warning glance. "Did you hear what I said to you when Sam and I picked you up from the god's feet?"

"When you … No, I didn't hear a blessed thing."

"And they were blessed things, Master Sternross, most literally. I said I had told you that piety could be improper — when we spoke after the trial in Dragonstown, if you recall. I don't doubt you were feeling the greatest piety, or what you take to be piety, when you saw Lord Mithros, but if fainting at his feet and obliging him to recover your helmet for you isn't quite astonishingly improper, I don't know what is. He thinks I'm surprisingly polite and sensible for a mortal, so I imagine he'd agree. He certainly wasn't favourably impressed with you. And the question is, what are you doing about it?"

"What _can_ I do?"

There was anguish in the old voice, but also a quality Taren knew only too well.

"Change your mind, of course, and mend your ways. Really, Master Sternross, and you, Lord Avinar, what this all comes down to is that you each have strong convictions about how the gods ought to be, and as what you have in common is the City of the Gods I dare say they're conventional convictions by its lights. The problem is that now you've actually met some gods, and found they don't fit your convictions, you both balk at reassessing them. Instead, you stew and glower, presumably wondering how you can fix it so either the gods change to meet your desires or no-one notices you were and are profoundly mistaken about them. And yet I doubt either of you would hesitate for one second in calling yourselves humbly pious. What can you do, Master Sternross? Go beg forgiveness at the shrines, and set yourself to school instead of seeking to school others."

He took a breath, seeing gaping looks and reminding himself that however Master Sternross had come to remind him of his father, they were not the same.

"Easy to say, I know, but think about it practically. You're a scholar, so be one. Codify what you believed, identify what has been disproven, and what must replace it. And if you would regain Lord Mithros's favour, know that he told me he prefers deeds to words. Set about correcting others who share your error, and preach the example of your own failing. Lord Avinar will aid you, in all piety, I'm sure, as he must face the same issues and persuade those who sent him to search hearts and souls. Which you will find a great deal easier, Lord Avinar, if you ask Kel nicely to send a senior immortal and at least one darking back with you — Quenuresh might find it amusing, or Wuodan, even, but the darking will be the key because it can show your superiors most of Kel's interactions with gods. The dedications, funerals, feasts, and dances here, Yaman, Unferth's death, and Galla. Let them _see_ what she does, and wonder, as they should. You do realise you're trying single-handedly to understand and interpret a major theological correction rather than seeking to gather and remit evidence to those whose minds most need to change? It seems unwise to me, but what do I know? Then again, I spoke to the High Ones, didn't faint, and received a blessing. You might try it."

Lord Avinar glared at him. "There's no need to rub it in."

"Isn't there, my lord? And why does courtesy so often desert you, both of you? I have every desire to be a great deal more easy-going than my father, believe me, for he was and is arrant in his pride of blood, but if you spoke to me, or Var or Sam, at Stone Mountain as you tend to here, you'd be back on the road and never welcome again. I understand private informality with a younger sister, Lord Avinar, but do you suppose your public discourtesy to the liegelady of this fief, revered by all, goes unnoticed by its liegers? And I've had occasion to warn Master Sternross to give my sister her due rank before now. You both seem to think you have some special standing, in piety perhaps, that exempts you from courtesies of natal and earned rank, and maybe that's the way of the City of the Gods, but it isn't the way of anywhere else in Tortall, that I've ever seen. Are you encouraged in such rudeness as a policy, by way of asserting the primacy of the City of the Gods? I ask because I've been considering a formal complaint to Dean Charter about those who represent him, and I wouldn't wish to muddle personal incapacity and misguided obedience."

He waited a humming beat, finding only limited pleasure in the stunned looks each gave him.

"Well? Is it a policy?"

"Certainly not. My lord."

"Better, Master Sternross. The occasional acknowledgement will do — I'm hardly a stickler. Tell me, Lord Avinar, did you also hear the Great Goddess say that Kel sees no reason for needless delay, and that Lord Mithros might try it?"

"I did. Lord Taren."

"Why do you find it so grating, I wonder? That envy is both misplaced and very unbecoming."

"Misplaced? She is beloved!"

"And do you want the weight of blood that comes with the gods' attention, as well as the blaze of glory? You certainly don't do the training. If you want to walk with the gods as your sister does, what do you propose to do to earn it? Or are you thinking you might, what, nip in somehow? As Master Sternross fancied he might pirate Master Numair's seminar?"

Lord Avinar had the grace, or simple common sense, to look down as he flushed, and Taren shook his head.

"Really? And your definition of gross impiety would not cover such behaviour? It's also a truly stupid idea, my lord. Do you suppose the gods would not notice? And the dragons? In any case, the point was delay, because I also wonder what you're waiting for. You, Master Sternross, can report to Dean Charter, or whomever, that you have ever so many objections to everything, successively overruled by Countess Keladry, His Majesty, and Lord Mithros, and that your borrowed helmet — which I dare say Kel will let you buy, if you want — has touched both his foot and his hand. And you, Lord Avinar, can ask nicely to borrow a darking with a larger immortal minder, and show your worried and waiting superiors that your sister is every bit as gods-blessed as everyone says, and then some, besides being on easy conversational terms with at least six of them. Oh, and there's the Staff of Light and Lady Shakith's prophecy too, not that you've bothered to ask me or anyone about it. But then you don't seem to be asking anything much, just brooding, so I've been puzzled as to what it is you're doing anyway. I see Kel doing what I can only call practical theology all the time, and she thinks a great deal about what the gods want, what they are and aren't telling her. Well and good. But what is the value of your abstract theology, especially when an actual god upends it all so severely? And if the accumulated wisdom of the City of the Gods has been as thoroughly discredited as I suspect, do you not have a duty to be about rebuilding its credit, with some honest admissions and a reversion to first principles, aided by that darking?"

There was a great deal more he might have said, for the root of the problem was a pride and self-regard not equal to his father's — that would take heroics neither man was capable of — but of a kind, and just as bitterly unwilling, even in acknowledging error, to contemplate correction. But it would hinder rather than help, and was needless.

"I'm about done, but I'll give you one more piece of advice, Lord Avinar, speaking as one who acquired a taint of disgrace through no fault of my own, and has gone some way at least to cancelling it. What you and your peers need is for _everyone_ to see the darking record, and in full — not just your superiors, huddling behind closed doors, and not just Kel consulting with Lord Mithros or dancing with Lord Weiryn, but the _Sekkinekesaku_ and _Le Pendu Pierreux_ , Lord Etenne crashing to earth to his considerable surprise, Anna of Nicoline both enraged and triumphant in death, the true horror of what Unferth was about as well as the Black God's grace pouring from Kel's hands. And unless I miss my guess badly, you'll find that a great deal easier if the immortal and darking insist on a public showing, so why not get Kel to make it a condition of the loan? Then you can blame her, while putting what Blessed Matsuo- _san_ would call the cat firmly among the pigeons. I'm loth to increase Kel's burdens, but it's one she's carrying already, in some measure, while there's a chance at least that whacking you all round the back of the head with a darking will help Kel more than it hurts you. Do think about it, please, my lord, and for the love of all gods stop sulking."

He left them slack-jawed and staring, and shortly found himself corralled by Sir Anders, Alanna, and Dom, who quirked an eyebrow.

"What brought that on, Tar? Not that it didn't all need saying."

"Any number of things, Dom. I _have_ been shadowing Kel for nearly two months now." There were grins, and he waved a hand, though very relieved. "Besides irritation and impatience, I feel I should do what I can before we leave, which we should as soon as we may, and I've seen enough to understand why Kel finds it hard to speak to Lord Avinar as frankly as he needs to be spoken to."

"You've saved Papa an unwelcome chore, my lord, surely." Sir Anders looked at once pleased and glum. "I'd thought of Avinar as simply pious, as Papa is, if more obsessively so, but he has more of Conal's … readiness to conservatism than I'd realised. And Master Sternross's glumps and resentments were not helping. But you offered them answers as well as bodyblows. Impressive."

"Wuodan says Lord Mithros likes being offered answers when he's supplicated about problems. Why should his self-proclaimed servants be any different?"

"Hoo!" Alanna had been observing with a crooked grin, and threw back her head. "Nice one, Taren. And for my money well done all round. Kel will wince, but only because she thinks she should have done it herself. I doubt wild horses could get Wuodan on darking duty at the City of the Gods, but for several reasons Quenuresh might be willing."

"If they went swiftly, Quenuresh could fall in with King Lewis and Prince Loup on her way back."

Alanna's grin widened, and Dom coughed.

"We try not to ask Quenuresh to terrify people, Tar. Getting them to accept her still takes considerable effort."

"So trade on that, Dom. And anyway, Gallans, King."

"The latter being more germane, Dom, as you know perfectly well." Alanna was still grinning. "So does Quenuresh, who doesn't altogether mind mortals looking green when they meet her, any more than dragons do. Any timetable on Lord Jadewing yet?"

"Oh hush, Alanna." Dom didn't sound annoyed. "But no, not yet, and yes, Kel has thought about the many possible values of his arrival before or during any negotiations. Quenuresh at the City of the Gods, though … I didn't know you knew Blessed Matsuo- _san_ , Tar."

"We had tea with him at Beltane, and he showed us his sacred hankie as well as waxing eloquent about the value of cats to pigeons."

"As he tends to, yes. You think shock tactics are needed, then."

"I suppose." Taren looked round their faces, and to his surprise settled on Alanna's. "What I wasn't saying was that I'd bet a good deal on their problem being at root the same as my father's, and that kind of stiffnecked pride gives me … I don't know, something _very_ itchy. Maybe it's Kel's influence, but while I have every sympathy with the shock of finding gods aren't at all what you thought, nor what you were taught, I have none at all with thinking _they_ ought to square the circle for your convenience." He shrugged. "It's my rage at my idiotic father spilling over, yes, but I didn't think it was misplaced."

"No. You're right enough about that." Alanna had a more pensive look. "And wise about yourself. Anders, was Avinar close to Conal?"

"Not since he went to the City of the Gods, almost fifteen years back. But a bit, yes. They weren't that close in age, but it's all girls between. Inness and I stuck together, and Conal took to lording it over Avinar when he came along."

"Figures. Does he know what Conal said, dying?"

"He should, Alanna. He's certainly been told. But whether he heard is a good question. I'll, um, refresh his memory."

"Please do. Taren's right that his failure to recognise the burdens Kel bears is striking, and … not unconcerning. He would have been listened to, as Kel's brother, more closely than he deserves, and I fancy he was counting on winning some advantage from that."

"Probably." Sir Anders scowled. "He's ambitious, certainly."

"And the City of the Gods is a nest of vipers at the best of times, which for them this isn't. But a darking show will qualify any advantage, and he'll face better informed questions, which will do no harm. As to Master Sternross, you nailed him too, Taren — _ever so many objections to everything, successively overruled by Countess Keladry, His Majesty, and Lord Mithros_." Alanna snorted. "That covers it. He's been hanging on here as much because he's frightened to go home and have to admit it all as to see whatever happens next and deplore it."

"I thought so, Alanna. But I'm beginning to wonder if we — Tortall — haven't been rather complacent too, happy to think Yamani piety needed shaking up when we'd do better to wonder how to shake up our own. I thought it was just Stone Mountain, but Archdivine Holloran said good men were in short supply, and if Kel's less than impressed with any priest of the Black God she's met …"

"Tell me." Dom blew out a breath. "Kel could do without the burden of officiating so often, but no-one qualified has been remotely what either of us want, or could put up with."

"What did everyone do while you were away?"

"Postponed whatever they could, and for funerals — three of them — talked Fanche and Saefas into following Kel's routine."

"Did chimes sound?"

"Oh yes. They were greatly relieved, and rather chuffed. I've told them both they're liable to be deputised, and as it was Fanche who insisted on Kel officiating in the first place I don't mind her dismay. But her logic still applies — people see Kel deal with gods sensibly, while divines flap hands, and they're not silly, so they want her in charge when they have to face gods themselves." Dom was scowling, but shrugged. "I can't blame them really. Dragonstown needs a celebrant too."

"What about Scanrans? Less piety to start with, but isn't that more help than hindrance? Fewer bad habits to overcome?"

"Huh. Different bad habits, certainly." Dom's scowl eased. "That's an interesting thought, Tar, and I'll pass it on. But, ah, theological matters aside, celebrants have to have the temple's recording authority for births, marriages, and deaths, so some kind of training will be needed."

"Surely, but that's honesty and careful clerking, not whatever they're teaching at the City of the Gods." Taren waved a hand. "Even that name's an arrogance. When's the last time any god actually went there?"

"It's been a while." Alanna was back to grinning. "You _are_ on a roll today, Taren. So how we do we shake up our piety? I've whacked the City of the Gods with a stick before, and so has Daine, but I can't honestly say either of us did it a blind bit of good."

"Mmm. But they're under pressure now, and more receptive, maybe. How much cheese would it take to bribe Quenuresh to make the darking show the inaugural Stone Mountain Lecture on Practical Theology in the Time of the Protector?"

"Ooh! Quite a lot, I'd think, but she might like the idea."

"And Cloestra next year. Var'istaan, Kawit, Kuriaju, and Lady Skysong." Taren laughed. "I'd pay money to hear that one."

"Huh." Dom was looking very thoughtful, though others were smiling. "That's another interesting thought. Are you really willing to sponsor such a lecture?"

"Unless the fee expected is very stiff. Twenty-five gold nobles a year? And costs of travel. The City of the Gods picks up accommodation and meals."

"That sounds generous, and while Kel won't thank you for the title, I do. Careful, Anders — you're a prime candidate for a mortal lecturer." Sir Anders blanched. "And you, Alanna."

"Anytime, Dom, following you. If anyone understands what a crash course in practical theology means, it's you, after all."

"Not a chance, Alanna. I know my limits."

"I doubt it, Dom, but we can have this argument five years down the road. And actually, Jon might be persuadable — he's no more impressed with them just now than anyone else. His Imperial Majesty might be glad to send someone, too — Kel certainly showed _him_ some practical theology. But in the first place Taren's right, again, that it's immortals we want — much harder to argue with, and the kind of perspective those clucking boneheads need to learn. So I think we have a cunning plan, to follow up on Taren's good work. Go talk to Kel, Dom, Anders, while Taren and I beard Quenuresh?"

Pitching it to Quenuresh himself was not quite what Taren had had in mind, but the great spidren _was_ amused by the idea, which left her thoughtful, and Taren was perfectly happy to lavish his nobles on the Corus cheese market and despatch the results north. Whether _amused_ or _happy_ covered Kel's feelings was less clear, but she was relieved someone else had taken a stick to her youngest brother and Master Sternross, welcomed a plan of attack, and only rolled her eyes once at the proposed rubric for the lectures, despite some dark muttering about dragons and temporal nomenclature. She also dragged Taren to a meeting by firespell with Dean Charter, where more plain speaking secured swift if bemused acceptance of the endowment and an imminent date that saw Master Sternross and Lord Avinar depart with Quenuresh next day. As her escort was ten fighting ogres they were the only ones riding, and managed to look remarkably isolated as they disappeared down valley while Kel dusted her hands and rolled her head.

"Well, that's a relief. Thank you, Tar. I'm sorry to say it, but Avinar was beginning to irritate me far more than a brother ought, and I'm purely delighted to see the back of Master Sternross."

So was everyone, even Princess Shinkokami seeing nothing wrong with chastising errant _kamunushi_ , though she was generally pensive and given to eyeing Kel with a faint frown. To be fair, she was also coping admirably with Princess Lianne, obliging her to combat guilty distress and manage anger through hard glaive practice. Lady Yukimi and Kel sometimes joined them, or one of the many women at New Hope trained to the weapon, but it was Princess Shinkokami who kept her sister-in-law at it and talked her through conflicting emotions. Prince Roald watched gratefully, offering his sister less articulate comfort and support while pushing her to consider her own position in negotiations — not least so she had one to assert when their parents arrived. And that was one thing driving an underlying tension, for everyone knew they were due and no-one knew what to expect from monarchs who were also frightened and angry parents. Even Alanna was unsure, the desirability of the Gallan match being sharply lessened if there was unrest there, but pointed out that Duke Baird would be speaking to the king when they passed on the road, and would give him a chance to vent as well as a briefing.

There was also the wait for news of King Lewis, a subject of much speculation, exacerbated after five days when Kel said she was assuming he'd be setting off from Aussonne next day with assorted courtiers and an army company as escort. She didn't say why, save that she'd prayed and trusted her resulting convictions, but Taren wondered if there were side-benefits to using Lord Mithros's paper and quill, especially if one also enjoyed the regard of Lord Gainel. He found himself thinking rather sideways about communication, and after checking with Kel, who laughed and saw no harm in trying, went to Haven to make an offering and a prayer to Dabeyoun, backed up by asking Wuodan (found wheedling meat from the cooks) to pass on the request when he might.

 _You want me to tell Dabeyoun the Protector needs a priest?_

"More or less. There must be _some_ mortals with half-way sensible ideas about the Black God who'd be willing to tend pilgrims at the fairly remote site of a recent miracle, but finding them is very hit and miss. I thought Dabeyoun could give us a list, which would be much simpler."

 _So it would. He'll be interested to be asked, so I will._ Flameless eyes considered him. _Mithros was right about you learning more than good sense from the Protector. You've given up all that false guilt too._

"I've tried, Wuodan, but have you considered that as my needless apologies were wholly sincere they've proven very useful?"

 _No. Mortal complications are so often absurd. Go away and let me chew on this good meat instead._

Taren went cheerfully, adding a shrine to the Graveyard Hag to his plans for Stone Mountain and wondering if including Wuodan and Frige on Lord Weiryn's might bring them to the dedications also, whenever they happened. If he ever gave his own lecture — a not unattractive fantasy — he would define practical theology as asking the divine to do things that amused and interested it, as well as solved one of its problems it was carrots rather than sticks, but useful and entertaining as well as nourishing carrots, an observation that at dinner that evening made Kel and Alanna hoot laughter and produced from Neal a very funny tirade about the perversity of supposing such a vegetable. Taren retired to catch up on his journal with aching sides and a deeply satisfying sense of being genuinely appreciated as well as liked by people he had come profoundly to respect.

Impossibly enough, he felt that respect deepen the following day as he watched Kel handle Their Majesties with an ease and kindness that was also politically shrewd. They had ridden hard and were clearly tired, but drawn looks dissolved into simple relief as Princess Lianne was embraced tightly enough to make her squeak, and before they'd disentangled themselves Kel was busy processing assorted courtiers and diplomats accompanying them though the Honesty Gate, with the remainder of the King's Own First. Ettenor of Aili and others had hard handclasps and soft words of thanks for her recovery and burial of their friends, and by the time she was done Their Majesties had had time to compose themselves — though Kel still received a tight embrace of mother's thanks from Queen Thayet, and a wordless grasp of her shoulder from the king. It had also allowed the entourage to stop gawping and start chattering, and one of the bolder diplomats began bleating about the urgent need to debrief Kel and plan the necessary placation of King Lewis, but found himself cut off.

"Placate, Master Wilson?" Kel's voice had a razor edge. "Certainly not. We are the ones who need placating, and I'll thank you to remember it."

He had courage, if not sense, and tried to insist. "It is not so simple, Lady Keladry. In the matter of kidnap, Her Royal Highness was wronged, certainly, but you greatly overstepped your authority in executing Lord Biron, and we—"

"Did I, Master Wilson? Well, as I received the explicit approval of Lord Mithros, and the Black God attended in divine person, you can take up the argument with them. The shrines are that way. You can also take it up with the dead whose murders I punished — I'm sure Ettenor and the First will be happy to escort you to Haven when they go to pay their respects at the graves tomorrow. As to briefings this evening, no chance — you all need food, baths, and rest, and _my_ briefing, which will be tomorrow after breakfast."

Master Wilson's fellows weren't going to argue, however mulish he looked, and Captain Uinse swept him away with others to settle in. The King offered Kel a weary apology, mentioning the man's long service at the embassy in Cría and general inclination to appease, but was happy to be escorted to his own rooms, his children in tow. Dinner was strictly personal guests plus royals, giving Kel, Alanna, and Their Majesties time to speak quietly, while Taren, Sam, and Var spoke more idly with Baron George and Neal, and (as Taren gathered later) the royal entourage found themselves in the messhall with Lord Ventnor and other survivors, all happy to bend ears and supply details. Whether it was that or just the general effect of New Hope Taren wasn't sure, but they were much quieter and warier next morning, waiting while Kel dealt with her twins.

Some welcome summer rain having blown in overnight, the briefing was in the wet-weather practice room above the great reception room, with benches and a lectern brought from somewhere, their arrangement making it plain who would be listening to whom — an authority Their Majesties silently supported by taking their own, more comfortable chairs without demur. Sitting with Sam and Var beside Alanna, Taren quietly asked about those he didn't recognise and received a swift tally.

"Overall, Jon's gone strong on trade and traditional diplomacy, which is where the marriage proposal was coming from, with a few lawyers as leavening. The Gallans want a marriage-tie mostly for security, now we don't face any Scanran, Yamani, Copper Isle, or Carthaki threats, but also want the right to use our side of the Drell all the way to Pearlmouth and cut out Tusaini and Tyran duties on their trade. Weak on nobles, because with George, me, you, Kel, and Ventnor here, and Piers and Ferghal returning, that's covered. Kel and I cover the Army Council too, as will Vanget. But she's about to stand them all on their heads anyway. Here we go."

The king had a slightly sardonic look as he saw the Scanrans who accompanied Kel, one pair standing behind her at the lectern and another flanking the doors, axes shouldered. Other eyes flickered uneasily before locking onto the speaker.

"Your Majesties, Royal Highnesses, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen. I realise you are all eager to begin preparing, but be aware we have time — King Lewis left Aussonne two days ago, and is using the Middle Drell road to Eastwatch, so he'll be here in about three weeks — and we need that time, because you all need to rethink your basic positions and parameters. That's one reason I cut you off last night, Master Wilson, because you were assuming a bilateral negotiation in which _we_ had to placate _them_ , and besides your basic error about who needs to placate whom, that is no longer the case."

The confusion on Master Wilson's face was matched elsewhere, and Kel held up a finger.

"First, I did not act as Aussonne only or even primarily as a noble and general officer commanding of Tortall, although it was in the latter capacity that I used regular army troops deployed with His Majesty's permission. I also acted as Guildmaster of the Craftsbeings, whose lawful business the late Lord Biron's treasonable act of war interrupted and threatened, and while the Guild is duly chartered in Tortall, and so subject to Tortallan law _in Tortallan territory_ , it is not only a Tortallan entity. It is also recognised in Scanra and Yaman, has immortal members who though bound by treaty to peaceful co-existence with Tortallan, Scanran, and Yamani subjects are not themselves subjects of any mortal ruler nor subject to mortal laws, and is explicitly recognised by the Dragonmeet as the seat of their embassy to the Mortal Realm. And as it was the Guildmaster, not the Countess or general, who invited King Lewis and Prince Loup to attend her here to explain the commission of an act of war by a Gallan subject, the Guild is hosting these negotiations and has its own agenda."

Wide-eyed glances were exchanged, and Taren could see Alanna's mouth twitching.

"Second, I also acted at Aussonne as Clanchief Hléoburh, a friend and yearmate of Sir Esmond of Nicoline who claims bloodright under Scanran law in the murder of his sister Anna, so two members of the Council of Ten, Jorvik Hamrsson, Clanchief Hamrkeng, and Ragnar Ragnarsson, Clanchief Somalkt, will be attending, primarily as observers rather than participants but also to make it clear the Council recognises my bloodright and will take a very dim view of anyone who doesn't. So to put it simply, it is not only the House of Conté demanding an explanation of what befell its daughter and her entourage and escort, but Tortall, Scanra, and the Craftsbeings' Guild demanding that King Lewis put and keep his house in order."

Kel waggled a hand judiciously.

"Third, while His Imperial Majesty's position is as yet less clear, the House of Nakuji is bound by blood to the House of Conté, and his duly deputed senior officer here, who ordered samurai and spidren troops to assist me at Aussonne, is very clear that in doing so he did not exceed his authority, so we can also licitly claim Yamani support. I have written to His Imperial Majesty, and as the ship left Mindelan the day after Princess Lianne's recovery I expect an answer before King Lewis arrives. In any case, while the principal matter is between Her Royal Highness and Prince Loup, any agreement that satisfies them must also satisfy not only Tortall and Galla, but pass muster with the Guild and Council of Ten in matters that concern them."

Another finger went up.

"And fourth, the primary issue is now not only a treaty, with or without a marriage, that will ensure peace between Tortall, Scanra, Yaman, and Galla, but one that also ensures civil peace in Galla. Wearing all my hats, and with the explicit approval of Lord Mithros, I determined at Aussonne that Lord Biron's principal crime was neither the kidnap nor the murders, but what motivated them, which was high treason against King Lewis and Prince Loup, whose throne and right to inherit that throne he sought to usurp by bride-theft linked to claims of royal bastardy and firstborn precedence. It was for that he died, and so the inscription by his petrified corpse proclaims. One task, therefore, for any Gallan specialists, is a concise report on how that plays in Gallan law, but in preparing it do not forget for one second our primary concern that, in the event of a marriage, Her Royal Highness and Prince Loup should not face any civil strife now or when King Lewis dies. And one of the things that must ensure that is Galla's formal recognition of the Guild, with full rights of organisation in Gallan territory, as in Tortall, Scanra, and Yaman. In practice that will have limited meaning for a while yet, but anything that does not concede the principle is unacceptable, and a Guild branch in Cría, like the ones in Heian-kyó and Hamrkeng, will be an immediate consequence of any agreement."

Kel surveyed gaping faces, and held up her hand.

"Fifth and last, the whole trade issue is subject to redefinition. Besides security, the principal advantage Galla seeks through this marriage is lower tariffs on its Drell trade, which is presently its only route to the sea. Three or four years from now, however, the Vassa will be navigable from its headwaters, north and south, to Frasrlund, and if Galla shipped _up_ the Middle Drell, there's only a short portage to connect with the Vassa — which the Guild might do something about one of these days, if it had an incentive. It would be an advantageous route for a fair part of their Scanran and Tortallan trade, and all their Yamani and Copper Isles trade, such as those are, or might be. And as control of the Vassa trade will in practice rest with haMinch, New Hope, Frasrlund, and the Council of Ten, if Galla wants access it can think, hard, about how to make us all willing to grant it."

Beside Taren both Alanna and Var had poker faces that told him they were suppressing laughter, and Kel wasn't done yet.

"Now, I realise all that comes as something of a surprise, and that you need clearer understandings, so I've arranged for further briefing over coming days. Besides the Guild's structure and purpose, immortal concerns, the Timeway, and Scanran issues, topics will include how the Vassa is being made navigable, the improbable legal and diplomatic complexities arising from the facts that my fief, clanhome, and army command are all distinct, however they overlap, and divine concerns implicit in the threat Gallan strife, civil or otherwise, would pose to New Hope, Haven, Dragonstown, the graves of Renna Eriksdottir and Braka Haraldsdottir, and Rathhausak as emergent places of pilgrimage. Master Valestone will begin with the basics of the Guild. Your Majesty?"

"What shall I and my family do in the meantime, my lady?"

Kel grinned. "Well, sire, as you're all already familiar with all of that, and left to your own devices will only mope around and cause trouble, I have things for you and yours to do as well. For today, there's accompanying Ettenor and the First to Haven." The king's sardonic expression, which had deepened, sobered into a grave nod. "The basilisks would doubtless appreciate a word, too, and the mages — Numair did wonders co-ordinating their Gifts. And tomorrow we can go and see your newest fort, which is mostly done and, I'm told, very pretty, as well as a proper base for the King's Own Fourth. It needs a name, too. I thought Ettenor could come along, given how involved he is in recruitment and training. You can also inspect what there is of the Pilgrims' Way, to see where your money's going, discuss your proposed Temple of Sakuyo and College of Arms with Master Geraint, and admire my new greenhouse."

"Yes, we noticed that, Keladry — it's hard to miss." The king's voice was very dry, but his eyes were warm. "Lead on, then, if you'll excuse us, Master Valestone."

And before anyone could object Kel had swept the royals out, leaving diplomats and lawyers scrambling for notebooks and quills as Master Valestone began to quote from the Guild's Tortallan charter. Var was listening with a thoughtful look, and after a few moments Taren left her and Sam to it, slipping out and making his way to Kel's office, where he found a wheezing Alanna being ignored by Mandrinal.

"Wasn't it priceless? Jon and Thayet are having a family council before heading to Haven, and Kel's gone to greet someone called Brendon of Fenrigh."

"Ah. Army lawyer who knows about her command and fief being distinct but overlapping."

"He'll fit right in. Do you know she's got St'aara taking them to the schoolhouse so the children can show them those models of the side-channels?"

Alanna dissolved into laughter again, and Taren looked at Mandrinal, who shrugged.

"They have most experience with the models, my lord, and Lady Kel thinks it's a good idea for people to be reminded whose futures they are negotiating. We also thought that after hearing Kawit on the Timeway and its eddies, they'd be glad to get outdoors and play a little, so it's no more than common sense, really."

Alanna slapped her thigh alarmingly, and Taren could only agree with both of them.

Taren wasn't sure if the three weeks of waiting for King Lewis went fast or slowly, for they seemed to do both. Var was away most of the time, undertaking her survey, and though he and Sam spoke with her by spellmirror every evening separation was disconcerting for all of them, an unwelcome taste of things to come. It was also strange to make the journey again through her eyes, but there was a satisfying interest in her thoughts about where to put wayhouses and even latrine pits, and the site itself had some surprises. He'd heard Kel order the dead piled and burned with Unferth, and had vaguely expected there to be traces, but besides a few scorch marks and a little soot on the rock there was nothing. At the girls' graves, conversely, the headstone Guthlaf Eriksson had carved was as austere as Kel had wanted and beautiful besides : the thick blankets of Sakuyan flowers grew in two perfect rectangles separated by a narrow strip of lush grass, the headstone was central, spanning the strip, and the flowers had extended in a thin, beautifully curving tracery from each outer corner to circle it. When Kel saw it she sat looking for a long moment before sighing softly.

"He's often kind, you know, for all he can be as ruthless as any of them. And he cares about aesthetics, in a very Yamani way, though whether he's like that because they are or the other way around I have no idea. I must thank him. And Var, whatever we do there will have to be beautiful in the same way, I'm afraid, as well as functional. It's a challenge to me, as well as a grace to the dead."

"If you say so, Kel." Var looked dubious. "I'm not sure I do beautiful, but I'll think about it."

After searching Kel's library Taren was able next evening to show Var illustrations of Yamani shrines and gardens, green and stone, and was happy to find she agreed the whole hanging valley should be the place of pilgrimage, with all facilities in the main valley below. That brought the waterfall into play, and after an entertainingly informative conversation with an intrigued Lady Yukimi and Blessed Matsuo- _san_ he was able to suggest that _sui_ , the _kanji_ for clean, fresh water — which for reasons mysterious even to Yamanis also began a word meaning, variously, unloading a ship, retail sales, defloration, and preservation of blossoms for the art of arranging them — might offer a design. Lady Yukimi had drawn an oversize version, so Var could see it in the small spellmirror she had.

水

"I thought the separate bit on the left could be for the hostel keepers, with dormitories in the two long bits, messhall at the bottom with a nice view of the waterfall, washrooms at the top, and entry on the right through the bit that sticks out, with administrative offices. How many pilgrims Kel means to plan for would give you the scale. You wouldn't see it from the ground, though the curves could look nice, but you would from the top of the path up the rockfall, especially if the rooflines were distinct."

"It's a lovely idea, Tar. What does Kel think?"

"I haven't spoken to her about it, Var. I wouldn't go behind your back on this project. It's just a suggestion for you to consider, but the idea of a _kanji_ seemed the right sort of answer, as Lord Sakuyo worked in them himself in his Temple, fresh water's right there, and when Lady Yukimi told me what its other associations were …"

"Yes. And thank you, Tar. I don't say it often enough, but you are a very good brother indeed."

The compliment left him quite emotional, and it was his evening life with Var that seemed so slow, while his days were busy and New Hope hummed at high temperature, matched by the July weather. Besides shadowing Kel, catching up on correspondence, and training, he and Sam were hastily learning Gallan, but made time to talk and eat with Vesker and his men. Taren was guiltily aware he'd left them largely to their own devices, but they assured him they didn't feel neglected, and had plenty to do besides their own training. Vesker had arranged the teaching he'd asked for, so all now had their letters, and several had become competent in Scanran evenings seemed most often to be spent at _The Bivouac_ and _The Pilgrims' Progress_ , but (Vesker assured him) the attraction was Sergeant Connac and the other veterans who ran them, not just ale, and their conversation bore it out.

The poor diplomats and lawyers received four days of concentrated briefings before Kel sliced them into small workgroups with specific tasks and a succession of deadlines, while the royals — all of whom had very much liked the new Fort Basilisk, a name Kel conceded because the basilisks themselves didn't mind in the least — threw their weight into the scale when needed. Princess Lianne was perfectly prepared to find Prince Loup congenial, if she could, but had no wish to be anywhere near a civil war, and showed herself her father's daughter (while he and the queen looked on, grimly approving) by flatly insisting that any marriage articles include both an irrevocable Gallan recognition of the Guild, and pensions for the families of Anna, Master Fellon, and the fifteen Ownsmen, to be drawn on Lord Biron's attaindered estates. There was also a memorable afternoon when Kel explained, in some exasperation and with a large darking display, two things they seemed not to have realised : first, that the required Guild branch was not an expression of her desire to command any more than she already did, but intended to provide an incentive demonstration of what peaceful co-operation could achieve, so would they kindly think about other mechanisms that would help Galla to keep its own house in better order, such as tying lower Drell tariffs tightly to more effective suppression of slavery, improved education of children, and prompter investigation of claims of royal bastardy and second, that she had every intention of maximally intimidating King Lewis and Prince Loup before and after they arrived.

"Prince Loup rode with his father to Aussonne, people, so they've both had a pretty interesting month. Assuming they had no prior knowledge of what Lord Biron was about — and setting aside for now questions of what they should have known — they were getting ready to welcome Her Royal Highness when a very nasty surprise arrived. To their credit they rode for Aussonne at once, in force, and found a less nasty but even greater surprise, with a lot of layers, and heard who knows what about it from some deeply shocked subjects."

The darkings showed, in measured succession, what remained of Aussonne's curtain walls and keep, _le Pendu Pierreux_ , with its inscription, and the writing of Kel's letter, with its divine duplication. Taren had wondered why she hadn't shown them such images before, but their concerted impact now was explanation enough.

"They also received my letter, which seems to have some peculiar properties, though whether from Lord Mithros's paper and ink, the sunbird whose feather I used as a quill, or Lord Diamondflame's delivery of it I have no idea. In any case, it let me know when its seal was broken and its invitation accepted. So with more commendable speed they set off to come here, limiting themselves to a company as escort, and two days ago were met at the border by Lord Ferghal, General Vanget, and two haMinchi companies. I argued Ferghal down from five, but Vanget picked the largest and dourest men he could find. Tomorrow, they'll be joined by the eldest spidren Quenuresh, with an escort of fighting ogres, on her way back here from the City of the Gods. For those of you who don't know, she looks like this."

The image of the great spidren somehow emphasised her size, teeth, and bristles, even before the image shifted into her swift motion and added the ogres trotting beside her, sledgehammers at port arms.

"One thing she'll be doing at overnight stops is talking frankly to King Lewis and Prince Loup about the siege and all that's happened. They're bound to have questions, and she'll answer honestly, but also offer an illusion or two — she can show them New Hope as readily as the dragon she conjured, and if their viewpoint will be more like Maggur's than mine, so much the better. They'll stay one night at Northwatch, and encounter an Honesty Gate, being warned about the procedure to enter here, and some additional questions I'll be asking, so if anyone in the entourage _was_ complicit with Lord Biron there will be some sweating going on. Early on the day before they reach Dragonstown, they'll encounter a basilisk-and-ogre working party and thereafter be on the smoothest road they've ever seen. At Dragonstown itself they'll come to this" — the darkings showed Drachifethe in all its twilight glory, and eyes went even wider as jaws dropped — "and encounter a full military reception, but not primarily for them, because Jorvik and Ragnar will just have arrived, with a company of their own, all with too many axes, and will explain over dinner about my bloodright in Anna's murder and just how seriously Scanrans take such things. They'll also give accurate accounts of Unferth and the divine responses to his evil, along with mine. Gella, Clanchief Nihthelm, who is the strongest hedgewitch I've ever met, will be there too, and one or more Hounds might be about — some usually are, if only for the kitchens at _The Smuggler's Rest_ , but I don't command them. Then they'll ride here, again arriving in twilight with everything lit up, and I shall be entirely respectful, polite, and implacable in receiving them."

The darking display shifted to show the Citadel and nearer valley.

"Their company escort cannot be accommodated within the Citadel, and will go here." A section of the limestone cliffs north of the glacis flashed. "So will the entourage, with the Scanran company alongside. King Lewis and Prince Loup can stay with them, if they want, or accept rooms in my guest-wing — their choice entirely, which I shan't push as either works for us. I shall also explain both the framework of the negotiations, which are trilateral, between the House of Conté, for Tortall, the House of Barbonne, for Galla, and the Guild, and that Her Royal Highness has an absolute veto, because in the last analysis if she decides she does _not_ want to marry Prince Loup, she won't, and we're down to reparations for the murders and kidnap, and a trade agreement. And there is one other thing you should all be aware of."

The display shifted again, and a familiar vast green shape appeared.

"That is Lord Jadewing, who has been appointed the Dragonmeet's Ambassador to the Mortal Realm, with a brief to observe the progress dragon apprentices and journeybeings are making. He was a witness to Aussonne, is the largest dragon, and has strong views about anyone who uses brute strength to commit ravage, including Lord Biron. And thanks to Dean Kawit, he has agreed to arrive the day after King Lewis. He will _not_ have any formal part in any negotiations, but the dragons do not want any mortal wars affecting New Hope and he'll make sure King Lewis knows that. And be very clear — real dragons are not threats for anyone to wave around, ever, but it so happens they're willing to be frank on their own behalf in this particular matter, which is a bonus for us. So if King Lewis and Prince Loup aren't feeling intimidated when they arrive, they soon will be."

Kel sounded perfectly cheerful about it, the diplomats and lawyers were mostly in renewed shock, as far as Taren could tell, and the king had his sardonic look back.

"Why that bothers any of you I can't imagine, and don't much care. They gave reassurances that proved empty, were too busy to meet Her Royal Highness at the border, and failed to realise Lord Biron was ready to commit high treason. Seventeen Tortallans were murdered, Her Royal Highness was personally assailed and sorely grieved, and the Guild was put to the trouble of dealing with their traitor. Besides all of which, as you might have realised by now, being thoroughly spooked means it'll be a great relief for them to find out we don't want anything unreasonable, and that whether or not they get a marriage they can get something for the Drell trade _and_ a whole new Vassa trade they haven't begun to think about, merely for doing properly what they ought to be doing anyway. Carrots _and_ sticks, people. Now back to work, please, and sort out what we can give them regardless, and what will be contingent on a marriage."

And back to work they went, chastened but, Taren thought, beginning to appreciate the method in Kel's madness and what New Hope consistently did by way of rearranging reality. Leaving them to it, he went to watch Sam, who had taken a liking to Journeyogre Ventriaju's slings and joined a class of older children he taught, finding the royals sitting on the steps before the shrines doing the same thing. He would not have intruded, but the Queen patted the stone beside her, and once he was seated asked what it was exactly Var was up to, and might be doing next. She seemed genuinely interested, and the tale of Lord Sakuyo's attention to the graves and possible responses to his challenge caught other royals' attention, including Princess Shinkokami's.

"I've been meaning to ask your opinion, Your Royal Highness, as one more familiar with Yamani aesthetics than Var or I can ever hope to be."

"Yuki told me of this, Lord Taren, and Blessed Matsuo. Whether it is what the High One desires in so gracing those poor girls' resting-place is beyond my stars, but I confess I find the idea of a _kanji_ -building interesting." She shrugged delicately. "You know I cannot like or be easy with Keladry's irreverence, though the High Ones allow it, but in this her piety is most proper, and _sui_ would be apposite. Certainly the place must be marked, and pilgrims provided for."

"Mmm. I suspect the High Ones do more than _allow_ Kel's attitude, Your Royal Highness. _Appreciate_ , perhaps. But I'm glad to know you see nothing amiss in the idea." He shook his head ruefully. "New Hope is such an education. Who knew I'd be worrying about divine approval of the aesthetics of a building in the middle of nowhere?"

"Tell me, my lord." The king had a glint in his eye. "Still, something has to take the place of all the protocol Keladry abrogates, and one can't complain about the food for thought. Or the food."

He patted his stomach and Taren grinned.

"No. I shall miss that, if not the absence of protocol. I confess, though, sire, I'm a little surprised you don't mind Kel, um, commandeering your negotiators. I thought you'd have more of an agenda of your own."

"Keladry anticipated it, my lord, and Lord Sakuyo was quite right that a general brief and free hand suits her far better than detailed orders. There may or may not be a marriage, but there won't be a war and there will be improved trade. And if there is a marriage, Lianne will be as safe as waiting for any throne allows. In any case, after watching Keladry … there isn't a verb but whack will do, whack Tortall and Yaman into better order, much to my advantage both times, I have no intention of getting between her and any Gallans who've annoyed her, especially as they've also annoyed me."

"More than annoyed, I'd think, sire."

"Oh yes. But it doesn't do for kings to be scared silly, nor consumed with fury. And it's plain enough Lewis and Loup were blindsided. No-one seems to have thought Lord Biron remotely inclined to armed rebellion, which is what it amounted to, so I imagine they're on the annoyed side too, as well as Keladrified half out of their wits." Taren managed not to snort, while thinking he'd have a use or three for that verb. "Any bets on what Lewis will have to say to her?"

" _I'm very sorry_ and _thank you, most sincerely_ would seem sensible." There was laughter. "But no, no bets, sire. I do wonder what set Lord Biron off, though, beyond seeing what he presumably supposed a danger to his pretensions and an opportunity. Who was his Unferth?"

"Good question, my lord. You think there has to be one?"

"I do, sire. Besides the Timeway and echoes, I've been wondering why Lord Biron's death was necessary to stop the eddy developing. Lords Mithros and Diamondflame were clear it diminished with the rescue of Her Royal Highness, but only vanished with the execution. And we know he didn't expect Kel, but what _did_ he think would happen?"

"Also a good question. Do you have an answer?"

Conscious of who else was listening, Taren hesitated. "It's all speculation, sire, and less than pleasant."

"Don't mind me, Lord Taren." Princess Lianne's face was hard. "If Keladry hadn't rescued me I'd have been raped, perhaps forced to some kind of ceremony before Lewis and Loup arrived. Then what?"

"Either some very awkward negotiations or a more conventional siege, I would assume, Your Royal Highness, involving Tortallan troops if it lasted long enough. But if Lord Biron was counting on someone high in King Lewis's command, or several someones, saying, _oh dear, how frightful, but what's done is done, so it's time to make the best of a bad bargain_ , and so forth, and at the same time something nasty befell Prince Loup, already discredited by having his would-be bride stolen …" He shrugged. "Speculation, but I can't see how Lord Biron expected to keep his head without support from somewhere King Lewis wasn't expecting. I take it you didn't hear anything about any other conspirators when he and his brothers were boasting?"

"No. They really were quite drunk. Fortunately." She frowned, thinking. "But Lord Julian did say they could defy King Lewis for long enough, without saying for what. At the time I thought he meant long enough to get me pregnant, but you could be right that they were expecting something else to happen. If they were, Papa, and there is another plotter, would you think family usurpation or magnate revolt?"

The king waggled a hand, scowling. "Not enough of a distinction in Galla, which is one of its problems. The Barbonnes have been spawning collateral branches for centuries, before and since coming to that throne, so there are far too many royally privileged nobles and they're linked to all the magnate families a dozen times over by now. Messy. Then again, poppet, Keladry agrees with Lord Taren about the other shoe, and so do I. There has to be something, and George thinks the most likely candidate is a cousin of Loup's, Pawle, whose father, Lewis's notoriously rakish younger brother, also Pawle, died three years back when his habits caught up with him. Frankly, I suspect Lewis heaved a sigh of relief, because he had a hard time saying no to his brother, but Pawle junior does not have the same influence, and is presently without any formal post. And if Biron really was a royal bastard, Pawle senior is an interesting candidate for his father. We'll see."

Taren was digesting how far short his speculations had fallen when he realised the king was giving him a cool look.

"Feeling chagrined? Don't — congratulations are in order for thinking it through as you did. Do you also see how Kel's ensured we _will_ see?"

"I'm not sure, sire. But logically, if there is a traitor in King Lewis's entourage, the Honesty Gate should catch him, or them, and if there is a serious threat to his throne, his and Prince Loup's fairly lengthy absence has to be a prime opportunity."

"Yes and yes. Go on."

"Well, King Lewis must know that, but was willing to come, so … there are four possibilities — he thinks he's safe, and is right or wrong, or he thinks he isn't, and is right or wrong. Safe and right, no problem. Safe and wrong, he can claim sanctuary here, and Galla can do whatever so long as it keeps it at home. Not safe, and right, the same, except he might be coming to ask for help. Not safe, and wrong … interesting, but he'll have to explain what he's afraid of."

"And which do you think the case?"

"Unless he's very incompetent, safe and right."

The king laughed. "He's not, and I agree, though Galla does have some problems building up, but one way or another, if there is a shoe to drop, it will. Righteously demanding his immediate attendance here in a manner he really couldn't refuse, was a superb move on Keladry's part, and asked him a dozen questions he has to answer or we're done. My only problem is how to reward her, again, but that can wait until she's calmed down. And you, my lord, must wait until you're fully of age, for a variety of reasons, but once you are your father's seat on my Council will revert to you."

Taren blinked. "I wasn't—"

"No, I know you weren't, which is one reason for my decision. Stone Mountain has always been an important fief, for its wealth if nothing else, but you're making it important for several far better reasons, my lord, and show yourself a reliable and very interesting young man. Your own man, too. Some older Councillors have been fretting about the vacancy, so I shall let it be known you'll accede when you turn twenty-one. Congratulations, thank you, and welcome to the madhouse."

A somewhat dazed Taren found his hand royally shaken, and Prince Roald considering him with an odd expression shared by his wife.

"It's not that bad, Lord Taren. Used to be an exercise in frustration, but since Kel took her glaive to it we actually get things done. And with the recent, ah, turnover in membership, there is an under-fifty voting block that has to be heard, which helps as well."

"Especially as Keladry now sways most of the over-fifties." The queen's smile was blinding. "It's been such a pleasure to watch. And proxies are increasingly giving way to spellmirror attendance, which is livening things up too." Demonstrating some technique, Ventriaju wound up properly and his shot sent the target flying. "Goddess, what _are_ those slings made of?"

"Ah, spidren-webbing braided with various fibres, Your Majesty. It was Journeyogre Ventriaju's apprentice project, and Kel means them to be distributed cheaply and widely, as a weapon against slavers and bandits as well as marauding animals."

"Good for her. And him. We ought to push the Army Council on slings again, Jon. Kel and Alanna can't be there all the time, and they're only foot-dragging because the extra training messes with their routine."

The king raised his eyebrows. "And tends to break windows."

"Bad discipline." The queen waved a hand, much as Kel sometimes did. "Do you see broken windows around here?"

"There were accidents when Kel started sling training, Mama." Prince Roald frowned. "Neal mentioned a pig that was hit by a wild shot."

"I doubt they lasted long, dear. Kel would have been too indignant on the pig's behalf." Taren swallowed a snort of agreement, and received an utterly unexpected wink from Princess Lianne, also poker-faced. "And Ettenor does well enough with the First and the Fourth trainees, for all they think stones beneath their dignity."

"That's because he has the company mages shielding the ranges."

"And regular companies don't have mages too? Come on, Jon — Kel's exactly right that it's a basic military skill, and makes a strong case that sling regiments only fell out of use because fighting with blades came to be seen as a mark of chivalry. Awkward to use a sling in knightly armour. But Ownsmen aren't knights, nor regular troops. You said … Ventriaju, was it, is a Journeyogre, Lord Taren?"

"He is, yes, Your Majesty — since Samradh."

"Then we should ask Kel if we can borrow him, Jon. That last shot must have been eighty yards, and it's cracked that plank clean across."

"He does it at two hundred yards, Your Majesty, that I've seen, and probably more. You should ask Numair. He supervised the project."

"Better and better. I want those slings for the Riders even if you don't for the Army. Where did Kel get to, I wonder?"

"She's talking to Lady Yukimi about new pickles using fermented orange juice, and maybe rind, I believe."

"Sounds delicious. In her office?"

"I believe so, Your Majesty, but you might want to ask Journeyogre Ventriaju if he's willing and able, because he's quite busy here, and check his parents don't mind — he's not quite of ogre age — before asking Kel."

"So I might. Thank you, Lord Taren."

Deflected but not deterred, the Queen swept down to talk to Ventriaju, and her daughter and daughter-in-law followed with some trailing guards. Within a few moments all the royal women were carefully trying webbing slings, and the king exchanged a long look with his heir before quirking an eyebrow at Taren.

"Well and gently done, my lord."

"I placed an order for two hundred slings a fortnight back, sire, and Sam negotiated with Captain Uinse the loan of a soldier as an instructor for a few weeks — a man from New Hope First whose family are near Genlith and whom Journeyogre Ventriaju has already trained. But if you _do_ want to, um, goose recalcitrant army captains, I note that General Vanget seems to have had enough rest, and might not mind some, ah, peremptory descending. He's ordered slings for haMinchi forces."

"And again. Thank you." The king shrugged. "I've let the Army Council be because I'm already imposing the College of Weapons on them, and with peace they've had a lot to deal with, but I don't mind prodding them now. Do hurry up and reach twenty-one, my lord. I need the young."

He went to join his wife and daughters, and Prince Roald gave Taren a speculative look before smiling crookedly.

"It would be nice if he said that to me once in a while, but he's not wrong. Kel's shifted everything."

"Hasn't she? I knew it the day we crossed into New Hope, which seems years ago. She couldn't have done it, though, if everything hadn't been … I don't want to say broken, but ripe for change. Have you ever seen gemstones cut?"

"No. Why?"

"I did, after I found out how many I'd inherited, and their value. The cutter looks at them for hours, turning them, using different lights, padded hammers, all sorts, sleeps on it, and eventually strides in, sets his tools, and makes one blow for each face. If he's got it right, it's like a hot knife through butter, and perfection emerges. They talk about the shape the stone _wants_ to be, which interested me. Long story. But for my money, Kel cuts history the same way, and it too winds up as it wants to be."

He left Roald pondering, both aware that they'd dropped vocatives without saying so, and felt himself borne out four days later when Kel was called from supper to answer a spellmirror call, and returned after nearly an hour with a light in her eye. Senior negotiators were present, with royals, and she swept a glance round the table.

"Interesting news on two fronts, Your Majesties and Royal Highnesses, everyone. First, a reply from Yaman. His Imperial Majesty expresses dismay and fury at the insult offered the House of Conté, rejoices that no greater harm befell Her Royal Highness, warmly commends the decisions of his senior officer here — much to his surreptitious relief, I might add — and says, boiled down, that while he devoutly hopes and trusts it won't come to that, if King Lewis or anyone else Gallan is silly enough to start a real war, we can have ten thousand samurai with as many armed spidrens as are willing, and in the meantime are entirely welcome to beat them with Yamani bogeymen." She looked at the king. "In an enclosure, he tells Keladry- _chan_ that he is all agog at her new siege record, and Haarist'aaniar'aan likewise, allowing for immortal reserve, so could they please see a darking record? Papa will despatch one of the Mindelan darkings before he and Mama set off for here tomorrow." Her gaze swept the table again. "And second, a chortling Vanget tells me that having had the Honesty Gate at Northwatch explained, and found for himself that it works, King Lewis promptly stood several members of his entourage under it, including Pawle junior, asked questions they could not answer satisfactorily, and placed them under close arrest. They have so far declined to explain themselves, but the Stone Tree Nation's on its way, so that won't last. What will happen is less than clear, but the net result is that the Gallan party is likely to be at least one extra day on the road, but should arrive with any internal problems already … known, if not necessarily fixed."

The king silently raised his glass to Kel, and Taren heard explanations to senior negotiators about stormwings' ability to compel speech as a burble of discussion started. Beside him, Var nibbled cheese pensively.

"You know, Tar, we ought to get Kel a tunic embroidered with _I won the fastest siege in history_ , and the silhouette of Aussonne after she'd done it, but she'd never wear it." Var brightened. "I suppose we could have ones saying _Present at the fastest siege in history_."

Taren only half-stifled a laugh, and beyond Var Sam didn't bother.

"Nice one, Var. I'd wear mine. And I bet stormwings would like them."

Across the table Alanna grinned at them. "Mine can say _Participated in_ rather than _present at_. I'd wear it too. And you should tell Jon — he has that little problem of rewarding Kel, and can hardly go bigger than last time round, so suggestions will be welcome."

"I bet. But practical support for New Hope's the way to go, surely? He could remit the silver tax for a year, or sponsor something. Which reminds me, do you know what happened about the queen's scholarship for a lady knight?"

"Elsa Farrier, of Disart. First commoner for centuries, as well as first Queen's Scholar." Alanna had a satisfied look. "Disart doesn't know whether to be pleased or appalled, nor do her family, but she's happy, and so are Kel and Thayet. And Padraig, actually, who had his doubts but agrees she has what it takes and is looking forward to the challenge."

"Good to know. Thanks." Taren sipped wine, turning it in his mind. "A wedding present to Kel, but in effect she's made both the king and the queen give themselves presents."

"Oh yes. She's sneaky like that. Tried it in Yaman too, though in the end she accepted the samurai and spidren guards, and the engineers. But she actually wanted those."

"Didn't she get an annual haiku as well?"

"She did, but they're short, and she makes up her own anyway." Alanna tilted her head. "I doubt she wants any more."

"No." Taren grinned. "Though art's an idea., so long as it's not portraits of her that grow. A good one of her parents, maybe."

"Mention _that_ to Jon and he'll steal it in a flash."

As Taren very much wanted an image of Piers and Ilane himself he not only took care to do no such thing, but when they arrived, six days later, managed despite their road-weariness to secure agreement to a sitting as soon as it might be arranged. He offered Piers congratulations on Kel's diplomatic strategy, and received a wry if searching look.

"Keladry prefers diplomacy to have more teeth than I'm quite comfortable with, Taren, but understands letting people do what she wants very nicely." His hands moved gently. "I just shaped it a little. And it wouldn't be working so well if King Lewis hadn't understood what Honesty Gates are good for."

"He was prompted, Piers, as well as lent the Stone Tree Nation."

"Well, yes. It's hard to see them in action and not ponder their uses."

Pawle junior and three others of King Lewis's entourage resided in cells at Northwatch, to be collected as he returned home, while a messenger with orders for further arrests was (with an escort) already well on his way back to Cría.

"Isn't it? But there is one thing, that I've mentioned to Kel but no-one else. Her Royal Highness has talked to me several times in the last few days, as a neutral, I think, and the more she hears about Prince Loup the less she likes it. I gather the diplomats and lawyers have, ah, spoken more freely here than they did when she was, her words, being primed to go and say yes, and even if Galla's reckoned safe from upheaval I believe she's cooled on the idea. Her … rage isn't too strong a word, about Anna of Nicoline is in there, but she's also been watching Kel with Dom and the twins, and Lady Yukimi with Neal and Lady Ryokel, and … well, wondering what she's really willing to settle for."

"Ah. Interesting, and sharp. Thank you, Taren. Do you know what His Majesty thinks?"

"I believe he's aware, Piers. He's certainly been clear that Tortall doesn't _need_ a Gallan marriage, however it might be useful."

"What has she heard about Prince Loup?" Ilane laid a hand on his arm. "If it breaks no confidences, Taren."

"I made no promises, Ilane. And several things. I don't think it's the rumours of, ah, mistresses, or even a fondness for wine, but she doesn't like the tales of gambling, and she's realised they think him weak. She's also angry that they weren't franker before."

"Mmm. Certain interests were pushing it for more than the logic's worth." Ilane had a speculative look. "Perhaps we now know why. And Lianne has had a fearful fright. So do we hope he makes a good impression or not?"


	53. Chapter 54

Chapter 10: Chapter Nine - Releases Chapter Text

 **Nine : Releases**

 _New Hope & Rathhausak, 18 July – 2 August 464 HE_

TAREN still hadn't decided when, late next day, he stood with an official welcoming party as Kel escorted King Lewis, Prince Loup, and a dozen of their entourage up the roadway, a knot of haMinches and Scanrans behind. The Gallan royals had opted to stay with their escorts in the cliff-dwellings, a preference for illusory security Taren thought an error, and as their faces took on detail he saw a rigid lack of expression that did not conceal what he now thought of as Keladrification. Her naming the tauros skulls lining the roadway probably wasn't helping, but her programme of intimidation had clearly done its work, and even in rigidity the faces told some tales.

The two royals were of middle height and shared a beaky nose and high forehead, but he would not otherwise have taken them for father and son. King Lewis was clean-shaven and clear-eyed, lean, with a swordsman's walk, spoke unaccented Common, and gave an impression of controlled strength, but Prince Loup tried to hide a receding chin with a straggle of beard, was overweight, liked jewellery, and showed no sign of martial training. His Common was strongly accented, and the remark that revealed it, about the tauros skulls being so ugly he would have them removed, was both foolish and rude, earning a cool look from Kel.

"As they contain dragonfire, Your Royal Highness, that would be a fatal undertaking weakening the fixed defences, and an insult to those who yet mourn their victims and find display of their fates comforting. But allow me to present the living."

The king and his family were holding themselves back for a strictly private meeting to precede dinner, and besides Dom, Taren and his siblings, Numair and Daine, Alanna and Baron George, Piers and Ilane with Sir Anders, and Lord Ventnor, the welcoming party was the members of Kel's council, mortal and immortal. Queen Barzha had a perch, and Quenuresh had come up while Gallan and Scanran companies settled in, telling an amused Taren that the inaugural Stone Mountain Lecture on Practical Theology had been entertaining to deliver and, to judge by the deepening silence it had produced, disconcerting to hear. He looked forward to a fuller account, and in the meantime, after offering King and Prince bows and introducing Sam and Var, observed with interest their wariness of Alanna, extreme caution towards Var'istaan and St'aara, though Quenuresh and Queen Barzha had become more familiar, and — in King Lewis's case — intent observation of Kel's obvious warmth in greeting Lord Ferghal, General Vanget, and the Scanran clanchiefs. There was also King Lewis's care to be polite to commoners of the council, while Prince Loup was clearly impatient. Alanna's voice was a murmur in his ear.

"Five to one there's no marriage."

"At least. Has Loup _any_ good points besides being heir?"

"Not so's you'd notice. And in his case that's not a good point either."

The impression deepened when the Prince seemed to expect the entourage to attend them in meeting King Jonathan, and looked both surprised and petulant when Kel demurred.

"Their Majesties and Royal Highnesses require a private meeting, Your Royal Highness, and I'm surprised you'd wish your apologies to be public."

"Apologies! I—"

"Yes, apologies — to the father whose daughter you failed to protect, and the king whose subjects your father's subjects murdered. The apology you owe me for the inconvenience of sorting it out can wait, but those are pressing, believe me."

King Lewis's hand on his son's shoulder prevented further protest, and while Kel and Dom escorted the royals away Taren and Sam set themselves to entertaining and assessing members of the entourage and, just as interestingly, Jorvik Hamrsson and Ragnar Ragnarsson. Mistress Fanche and Master Saefas, as Stewards of the Citadel, were senior hosts in Kel's absence, and after some brisk information about what was where, and what off-limits to visitors, took everyone (save Numair and a stone-faced Daine, who pleaded children) to chairs set before the shrines, where refreshments were served. Not at all coincidentally, most resident immortals, including dragons, were gathering by Quenuresh on the green, to hear about the lecture, while Captain Uinse had found it expedient to have archery practice at long range using griffin arrows — and the effects were interesting. A majority of the entourage were men of King Lewis's stamp, lean and competent, and Taren could see eyes raking the scene, noting immortals' easy cohesion and archers' absurd accuracy, while the remainder divided between older men who weren't warriors but also seemed competent, and younger ones who didn't and he'd bet were companions of the Prince. One of the non-warriors turned out to be a diplomat with a mercantile brief, and they spoke of the Drell trade before Taren obliged the man's oblique questions with assurances that yes indeed, the Vassa was being made navigable to the sea, and once it was Stone Mountain's Scanran trade would go that way, via the Middle Drell, rather than on the existing more northerly route through Gallan territory. When some doubt as to the feasibility of the plan was insinuated he raised an eyebrow, observing that for one who had seen what was left of Aussonne to continue underestimating what basilisks could do to rock that was in the Guildmaster's way seemed unwise, adding that the Yamani design for the necessary side-channels was decades old. People were circulating by shifting chairs, and a short while later he found himself beside the two Scanrans.

"That was smoothly done, Lord Taren, though I cannot entirely blame them for not having fully appreciated what Clanchief Hléoburh can do."

"Have any of us managed that, Clanchief Hamrkeng?"

They both laughed.

"Of course not. And Jorvik will do, if you're willing. One of the many things we like about Kel is her distaste for protocol, and she speaks well of you."

"And Ragnar."

"Taren, then." Hands were shaken. "May I ask about the present state of Clan Beorhtscyld?"

The answers were mixed — it still existed, but its numbers would be dropping, as Kel feared, for while Scanrans could admire a challenge to a Clanchief they had uncompromising views about murdering one, and even more so one's family. Conversation slid sideways to Queen Barzha and stormwing needs, before circling back to Unferth, what Var was about, and the putative cleansing of Rathhausak.

"Kel's wondering what to make of the castle when it's melted. Suggestions are welcome and any strong feelings should be made known."

"Ah." Jorvik looked at Ragnar for a long moment. "It is a while since I had to make anything of a melted castle. What is the current fashion?"

Taren grinned. "Kel's about to set one. But she has been, for once, ducking the issue, I think because she doesn't like at least one of the more obvious answers." Ragnar cocked his head enquiringly. "Well, what's needed is a memorial, a memorial should tell a tale, and the way New Hopers tell their tales is already established."

"Panels!" Ragnar grinned widely. "However they offend her modesty. Yes, Castle Rathhausak melted into … what? A great circular wall with panels telling its sorry tale?"

"Or happier tale, Ragnar. I'm not sure where it would start, and it could borrow from the messhall panels, maybe, but it would end with the transformation of the ruins, and release of the sundered spirits." An idea clicked. "And I've no idea if it's practical, nor any clear image of the site, but do you know about the way basilisks adjusted the thickness of stone in the Temple of Sakuyo they built, so light shone through in an image of the god?"

"We were told." Jorvik shook his head. "I confess I cannot imagine."

"I … hang on a minute."

Taren trotted down to the circle of immortals, apologised for interrupting, and asked Quenuresh if Iron might show the Scanrans how light fell in the Edoan Temple of Sakuyo, it being hard to describe or imagine, Kel having allowed others to see that darking display, and the matter being relevant in discussing what to do at Rathhausak. Both Iron and Quenuresh were willing, so he carried the darking back, asking it to show the Temple from outside first, and if the chairback would be a suitable thing to flatten on.

"Anywhere good. You want all see?"

"I think the Gallans will want to see, and that it's good if they do."

And they did, of course, conversation falling away as he shifted his chair, Iron spread out, and the laughing _kanji_ -face of Lord Sakuyo spread across his temple's dome appeared. The brief commentary Kel had offered when he'd first seen it was etched in memory, and he took care to speak so all who wanted to could hear, of _jest_ and _tranquility_ cohering into the god. Hearing a disbelieving question about how _that thing_ stayed upright, he added Kel's phrase about a sideways arch and suggested a look at her greenhouse before Iron's display took them inside, revealing the image he wanted snd — Iron's fun, he assumed — Kel beside a furiously painting Lord Sakuyo while massed mortals gaped and Lord Diamondflame observed with a look at once, to Taren's now educated eyes, deeply amused and intently interested. The glowing projection of the _kanji_ -portrait hung above them all.

"Thank you, Iron. There you go, Jorvik, Ragnar. Basilisk-sculpted light. What I was imagining at Rathhausak wasn't just panels, but panels thinned or inset in some reshaping of the castle so the sun illuminates them for those within." Without looking round he let his address broaden. "Clanchief Hléoburh will be using the grace of the Black God, gifted to her at Aussonne, to cleanse the site of Castle Rathhausak, where the late Blayce the Necromancer" — no need to mention that he'd been Gallan — "murdered so many, by releasing any sundered ghosts to the Peaceful Realm. The castle itself will be basilisk-melted, but into what? Light is an important element in making memorials, I discover, and this temple an interesting model."

"That's one way of putting it, Taren." Kel's voice was very dry, and he turned to see her standing beside Dom, a hand on his shoulder while his arm encircled her waist. "Are you trying to foist _more_ panels on me?"

"Not in the least, Kel — merely soliciting available Scanran opinions on one possible form of the, um, well, in Old Ogric the very short title would be _The Song of the Remade Stones of Castle Rathhausak, Once Witnessing the Great Offences of Blayce the Necromancer Against the Black God, with that High One's Grace to the Wrongly Slain and Condign Punishment of the Wicked, Concerning Their Being Remade by the Protector of the Small to Honour Both Gifts_. Or to that effect."

Kel and Dom laughed, as did Jorvik and Ragnar, and he heard basilisk hisses and rumbustious ogre chortles while Gallans looked confused.

"Very short title indeed, Tar. I don't doubt Earfiller will lengthen it." For all her laugher Kel's shrug was resigned. "More heroic me, though?"

"Inevitably. But it depends where the tale starts. Blayce's birth? Maggur's rise? It doesn't have to be you taking down that first killing device and hearing the poor child's voice. And it's where you first called _blódbeallár_ on Maggur — is all that business in there?"

"Should it be?"

Curiosity had replaced resignation, and he shrugged in turn.

"For my money, Kel, probably. You've taught me to look for patterns, and one I see is that Maggur instinctively put his greatest horror, his worst crime, in his home fief, the place he knew best and the first thing you took from him. Put another way, if Blayce hadn't been at Maggur's clanseat, you couldn't have used _blódbeallár_ as you did in the siege."

"No, I couldn't." Kel nodded ungrudgingly. "A thought I've had more than once, Tar. Gods know what the panellists will come up with, if we go this way, but that's their problem. Still. _Lighted_ panels?"

"Yes. What duty did you lay on your successors as Guildmaster?" Intuition flared. "And I wonder if the Staff of Light might have something to say to those panels."

She looked at him for a long minute, before nodding. "I hear you. And I think my shrine to the Goddess is repaid several fold, Tar, between this and your _kanji_ -building, which I genuinely like. Even so, you're in charge of parsing panels. Or Var. Just not me. In the meantime, everyone, we can go in to dine, though Their assorted Majesties and Highnesses may be a course or two late in joining us."

With a little lingering over a cold-soup starter it was only one course, but the private meeting had clearly not been happy. All the Tortallan royals and King Lewis had set faces, though they made polite noises, while Prince Loup failed to hide either being offended or sulking, though he clearly approved of the food. Taren, with Sam and Var, did his best to keep talk flowing, hearing of the Gallans' hard ride, the shock still gripping Aussonne with the uncertainty of who would inherit, and offering explanation of memorials and some account of reforms at Stone Mountain. He was intermittently aware of Piers and Ilane, at the far end of the table with Lord Ventnor, surprising Gallans by detaching trade and security issues from the putative marriage, and did what he could to support them, shifting his conversation to the complexities of New Hope as fief, clanholding, and dragon-recognised seat of the Guild that hosted their embassy. A military Gallan opposite him blinked.

"The Guild, yes. We were, I confess, surprised Countess Keladry used her, ah, Guild rank in her letter."

"You need to count her hats. Her duty of succour to the Princess arose from her Tortallan nobility and military rank, but she was that day involved in long-planned and important Guild business involving immortals visiting from great distance, and they objected to it being delayed by Lord Biron's treason and the wars it would have started, so the matter was taken in hand. A siege by Gallan or Tortallan troops would have taken weeks, and been of no use to the Princess. The Guild managed it in twenty-three minutes, or twenty-eight counting from first arrival on Gallan soil, and we were back here less than three hours after news of the Princess's kidnap came in. Even Lord Mithros was impressed."

Another blink. "As well he might be. But you speak of it as certain."

"He was observing not far from me, and I had the honour to hear some of his remarks." Eyebrows rose. "Gods often happen around the Countess, as I expect those of Aussonne told you. From your point of view, though, what matters is that while Tortall has multiple treaties with immortals of many kinds about peaceful and profitable coexistence, it does not command and cannot ask for their logistical or military services. The Guild, however, in a cause they approve, can, and did."

"I … see. I doubt the late Lord Biron intended to … inconvenience the Guild."

"Nor did the equally late Lord Fujiwara in Yaman, if you know about that, but he's now stone too. Offending immortals tends to be a final mistake. Though there is a distinction, come to think of it, in that Fujiwara actually died by petrification, while what we're calling _le Pendu Pierreux_ " — listening Gallans winced — "died as he murdered Lady Anna of Nicoline, and was petrified only by way of providing a lasting reminder that treason is rarely a good idea."

"And which hat was the Countess wearing at that time?"

"All of them, including Clanchief Hléoburh, who claims bloodright in Lady Anna's death."

"Ah yes. We have heard about that." The Gallan glanced at Jorvik and Ragnar, talking with Prince Roald. "It all seems very complex."

"Or simple. Distance and a stone wall were impeding the rescue. Dragons removed one, and basilisks the other." There was much blinking, and Taren suppressed a smile. Wuodan did, after all, have a point. "My strong advice is to be rigidly honest and as straightforward as you can in anything that affects the Countess-Protector. She has a habit of dealing with complications both swiftly and radically."

"So we have seen. And that seems wise advice."

It was advice the Gallan negotiators seemed to follow over the next few days, and if they were more than surprised to find trade concessions tied not to any marriage but to such matters as better suppression of slavery and improved education, they were willing enough to take advantage. As the reality of what was beginning to happen to the Vassa sank in (St'aara's models proving handy), they also began to appreciate that imposing the Guild's egalitarian attitude to profits on those wanting to use its achievements would drive significant change in Galla. Listening carefully, Taren also heard their developing realisation that the purpose was Gallan stability through prosperity, some less guarded remarks revealing a worried awareness that without King Lewis — and especially with King Loup — Galla might well be in real trouble. Kel was in effect trying to head it off at the pass, and as Taren learned more about the burden of idle nobility Galla bore he wondered if someone had been warning her about it — Baron George, perhaps — or if she or an older immortal had been considering the Timeway and seeing something brewing they didn't like the look of.

Then again, there was one of those closer to hand. Prince Loup continued by turns petulant and sulkily silent, though he had been subdued since the arrival of Lord Jadewing. Taren had been on Kel's terrace, listening with her, Prince Roald, and others to Prince Loup and a pal boasting at length of some hunting exploit that involved servants driving game into range, and wondering why King Lewis did so little to check the fool, when Lady Icefall had scampered up to Kel with an excited look.

"Thank you, Icefall. I'll be there directly."

"How dare that beast interrupt me? Younglings should have better manners."

Taren saw Kel's mask drop over her face, but the flatness of her voice told its own story.

"In the first place, Your Royal Highness, Lady Icefall is a dragon, not a beast, and any repetition of your extremely foolish insult will have consequences you won't like. In the second, I asked her promptly to relay the news she has just brought me, and the business of New Hope does not wait on your convenience. In the third, though yet unfledged, she is more than two centuries older than you, and it shows. And in the fourth, though I really don't recommend it, you can take up any complaint you wish with her father, who is about to arrive, so you'll have to excuse me. Roald, let your parents know, and ask them to bring King Lewis to be introduced?"

"Of course, Kel."

They left the Prince spluttering, but his complaint trailed away as the vast green shape of Lord Jadewing landed on the ranges, to be formally yet warmly greeted by Kel. Taren remarked that Lord Jadewing was the new Ambassador of the Dragonmeet to the Guild, and as they watched Tortallan royals say hello and King Lewis be introduced added that magical strength was proportional to size. Then Lord Jadewing's gaze swung towards them.

 _The visiting mortal called Loup will attend his father at once._

The Prince froze, and after a moment Taren raised an eyebrow.

"Delay is not an option, Your Royal Highness."

"But …"

"No buts with dragons."

"I will not be ordered about like some commoner."

That bit of petulance was spoken loudly, and despite an additional summons from his father, waving him in, the Prince turned his back. Taren almost expected him to stamp a foot, and was wondering how to proceed when he saw Kel speak to Lord Jadewing, with a gesture. A second later a tendril of green magic wrapped around Prince Loup and lifted him in a rapid, squawking arc to be set down, hard, beside King Lewis, with Lord Jadewing's great head barely a foot in front of them. The other Gallans on the house terrace gaped, and Taren shrugged.

"I did tell him delay wasn't an option."

Whatever draconic warning — or clarification of interests — Lord Jadewing delivered to the Gallan royals was private, and if it didn't have quite as great an effect as Lord Diamondflame's chastisement of Junior, Prince Loup did thereafter seem to grasp that mortal rank alone cut very little ice with immortals. He still sulked and pouted, but more quietly, and if he made no contribution to any negotiation that Taren saw, neither did he impede them, seeming uninterested in the trade and political issues that were absorbing his father and the competent men of his entourage. He also declined to attend dawn training, as most Gallans were, including soldiers of the escort, very much on their mettle — and that cut two ways, for Princess Lianne noted his absence with a disdainful sniff, while Gallans, once they'd absorbed the shock of seeing Kel fight armed spidrens with _katana_ and one-handed glaive, Scanrans trying axes against ogric sledgehammers, and the other casual marvels of New Hope, noted that the Princess, like all the royal women, regularly trained at arms.

The Prince's formal irrelevance to what was going on was confirmed on the sixth day, when Taren found himself, with all Tortallan nobles present, summoned by the king. Larger spaces all being in use, the meeting was in the common-room of Kel's guest-wing, and after the royal party had swept in, guards securing the doors, Princess Lianne took the floor, her face set but determined.

"My lords and ladies, thank you for coming so promptly. I have decided any marriage to Prince Loup would be insupportable, and I will shortly so inform his father. I ask you to bear witness."

Taren wasn't sure why witness was wanted, and the decision wasn't unexpected, but supposed interests that had pushed for the marriage might need placating. What unfolded, though, was far more complex than he had imagined. King Lewis was attended by one senior companion, a Lord Dorlinnes, and even as he was invited to take a seat looked resigned, holding up a hand.

"You decline a marriage, lady."

"I decline a marriage with your son, Your Majesty, yes. I could overlook some of his evident vices, but not his combination of weakness and arrogance."

"You could be the making of him."

"Or he could be the death of me."

King Lewis sighed. "I won't argue. My marriage to his mother was political, and she was … unwell for a long time after his birth. Doting on him seemed to help her, and I was busy. It got out of hand. And when she died, four years ago, I found him much as you do now. Ah well. But while I understand your decision, lady, it leaves me with a present problem, and perhaps all of us, alas, with a future one."

"Marriage to me would not avert that problem, Your Majesty. But I know why a marriage-tie between our kingdoms is desirable for Tortall, and you are a widower. If you wish to exclude Prince Loup from the succession and start over, I will accept an offer of marriage from you."

There was a humming silence while King Lewis stared at the Princess, and exchanged a look with Lord Dorlinnes. His voice gentled.

"I am honoured and flattered, lady, but I fear it will not do. Besides the finite chances of my living to see a new son to his majority, should we be granted one, the politics of my marriage to Loup's mother still apply. She was a second cousin, from the Barbonnes du Nord, and they will not readily relinquish their claims."

"If Prince Loup proves as bad a king as he is a prince, they won't have anything left to claim."

"It will not be as bad as that, lady."

"So we must hope, Your Majesty. May I ask where you now stand on the matters I would have insisted form part of any marriage articles?"

"I will see the pensions are paid, lady. Using Biron's estates is proper enough, though the attainder cannot last — someone must inherit there."

"Or be instated, Your Majesty."

"Perhaps." One king glanced at another. "Your father has of late had a freer hand in such matters than I can readily afford."

"You have an opportunity."

"To instate whom?"

"Anyone competent you need to reward who isn't a Barbonne, of any degree. And ideally a commoner."

Unexpectedly, Lord Dorlinnes grinned. "Sound advice, sire. And with Biron for ever looking on, it will not be hard to discourage claimants."

"I will think on it, Armand. Gods know some fresh blood would be welcome. As to your other request, lady, I was suspicious, as you know, for the Craftsbeings' Guild is a new and fearsome thing, but in this my mind has changed completely." He turned to offer Kel a half-bow. "It is an astonishing weapon of peace that you have forged, Countess, and are using as you do your glaive, with great force and accuracy. This new Vassa trade is a godsend, and your financial mechanisms an answer of a kind I have long been seeking. Galla will recognise the Guild as Scanra and Yaman do, and my weight will be behind getting the necessary laws passed, however some knocking of heads will be needed."

Kel nodded. "Well and good, Your Majesty. Find us a site in Cría, and a basilisk-and-ogre team throwing up a dome will do some of that for you."

"I dare say it might."

"It has elsewhere. But something still has to be done about Prince Loup. What he needs is a spell in the army, without rank and under a good sergeant. Would your Barbonnes du Nord object if you mislaid him for a year or two, in a sensible cause?"

King Lewis blinked. " _Mislaid_ … _You_ would take him?"

"No. I've enough to do. Vanget?"

"May I speak plainly, Your Majesty?"

The General's northern burr was marked, and King Lewis nodded.

"Please do."

"The army takes minor scions not unlike your son all the time, breaks them down, and builds them up again. There's always a deal of screaming and sulking at first, but when it gets them nowhere they start to learn. You know it as well as I do. Thing is, though, haMinches and the Council of Ten are forming a new, oversize joint company to patrol the badlands around our mutual borders. Basic training is just starting. We're looking ahead to this Vassa trade, among other things. Not so far from your borders, either — sort of thing your heir ought to know about anyway. And frankly, given the state he's in, I doubt you can rely on any marriage to be the making of him. Iron hand's going to be needed." Vanget shrugged. "I have two of those."

King Lewis's surprise had given way to a considering look. "I do know it, of course, General, and would have used my own army if I had a single officer whom Loup could not overrule, and if any company into which I were to place him would not immediately fall into disarray. But I had not considered … well, foreign service. And yet. Mmm. Allow me to be frank in turn. Why would you do this? It would not be pleasant."

"I'm going to be doing it anyway, Your Majesty. One more soldier's no problem, so long as that's what he is. And beyond that, well, haMinches don't want unrest in Galla any more than Kel or His Majesty do. Besides, Kel asked me to consider it, and as I count myself deeply in her debt …"

"Whatever for, Vanget?"

Kel sounded genuinely surprised, and the General grinned.

"Oh, this and that, Kel. Winning me a war. Building pretty forts. Home-grown haMinchi oranges. Seeing a twenty-three-minute siege."

"Oh piffle." Kel flapped a hand. "Actually, I was thinking of Gothas and his friends." She glanced at King Lewis. "Troublemakers among my wartime refugees, whom on Vanget's advice I … donated to the army. Do you know what happened to him?"

"He reformed, Kel, and is still serving, in the eastern hill country somewhere. Made corporal a few months back, I gather. Lost track of the friends, though."

"Well, if Vanget's regime made a future corporal out of Gothas, Your Majesty, it could make something out of Prince Loup." Kel's hand rested on Dom's arm. "It might not be a pretty something — corporals often aren't, and where such beautiful sergeants come from is one of the great mysteries — but it'll be a more competent and disciplined something. And in the meantime, you'd have his allowance to … redirect."

"Now _that_ is a thought. Armand?"

"Du Nord knows something has to be done. He won't like it, but I think he'll abide."

"And you?"

"None of us have been able to offer you or Galla a better hope. And hope seems to be what the Countess deals in."

"Yes, it does. I will sleep on it." He looked at Kel. "When we arrived, Lady Keladry, you mentioned an apology due to you, but have not pursued it. From my admitted complacency about a byblow of my brother's who had never caused me any trouble to the disruption of your Guild business seems a far step, even now, but for what it may be worth I regret any imposition. I will, though, thank you, sincerely, both for so astonishingly ensuring that Her Royal Highness suffered no more seriously, and for the brutal efficacy of your justice. I would have welcomed a trial no more than King Jonathan, nor whatever Pawle might have done had I not arrived at Aussonne to find the lady gone and Biron already dead. I am also as grateful for as I was surprised by the combination of an Honesty Gate and the, ah, services of the Stone Tree Nation in securing full and witnessed confessions from Pawle and others. I thought that would be a very bad business, but you made it easy. So one might say you have twice cauterised wounds that might have bled very badly."

"That would have bled Galla and Tortall white, Your Majesty. Don't doubt it. None who see the Timeway did, even Lord Mithros, and you really do need to think about how Biron and Pawle could have brought about a three-way civil and foreign war, because while I'm not sure they realised it they were all set to do exactly that. But I gladly accept your regret and thanks as a line drawn under the Guild's involvement, and you and Her Royal Highness have settled Tortall's concerns with the pensions, so we're down to trade issues and they're coming right along."

"Yes, they are. And you would like us gone."

"It's just that I have other things piling up, Your Majesty, some of which shouldn't wait." Kel shrugged, hand still on Dom's arm. "The Black God's gift is making me itchy. When there was nothing I could do about Rathhausak, I had to wait, but now there is I find I … object to doing so. Those poor spirits have been astray for too long already."

There was a silence, and King Lewis shook his head, not in negation.

"You say it so calmly, Lady Keladry. Yours is a very strange life."

"Tell me, Your Majesty. But I'm not repining, and whatever the scale, it's only doing what needs to be done." She looked at King Lewis and Lord Dorlinnes for a moment, then at King Jonathan. "I'll probably regret this, I have no idea what there will be to see, except some demolition work, and the logistics could get messy, but assuming Jorvik and Ragnar have no objections, would you wish to come?"

King Lewis blinked. "To Rathhausak?"

"Yes. It's about eighty miles from Dragonstown, so a fair step out of your way home, but as basilisks will be at work you could legitimately call it research into what happened at Aussonne. And though I don't expect gods to attend, save perhaps Lord Weiryn, as it's within his territory, others may come." Kel frowned. "I can't see the shape of it, but … the demolition is just basilisk business, but purging and reshaping molten rock is more dragon-sized. Like the statues on Drachifethe, but less consequential."

There was another silence, until Kel shrugged and looked round.

"It'll come clear when I'm there. And unless something else comes up, I shall be going next week. How many should I plan on having to feed?"

Taren unhesitatingly raised his hand, and so did everyone else, including all Tortallan royals and King Lewis. Kel sighed at Dom.

"You said the logistics would get messy."

Dom patted her shoulder. "Not to fret, love. It's all in a good cause, and it'll still be easier than the last time."

Jorvik and Ragnar, if surprised, were clear that Clanchief Hléoburh's guests could go anywhere in her clanholding she invited them, and arranged by spellmirror for others of the Council of Ten to attend to meet King Lewis and pay respects to King Jonathan and Queen Thayet, as well as indulging their curiosity. News that a second mission to Rathhausak was imminent ran through New Hope like wildfire, with many effects. Those who had once lived there, including Zerhalm and Irnai, were at once relieved and apprehensive, eased, excited, and melancholy, and there was a great deal of speculation about what Kel would need to do for the sundered, and decide to do with the castle. In parallel, Taren with Sam and Var tracked down former panel-designers and carvers and marshalled meetings to parse the tale of Rathhausak, taking advantage of the Scanran presence to fill out how (and even why) Maggur had done what he had. Taren also asked Baron George and Numair about Blayce, and was able to relay an outline of his path towards his vilest blasphemy, though after Kel's pointed remark that when it came to panels twelve seemed a nice round number it was agreed his story was not needed. The restriction proved helpful, and far sooner than Taren had expected a basic outline was in place — six panels telling a tale of Rathhausak alone, once proud, coming to Maggur, and under Blayce changing into a murderous blight that turned living children into dead killing devices and tyrannised adults and six more telling a tale of Kel from first encounter with a killing device and its sorrowing spirit to the kidnap, rescue with declaration of _blódbeallár_ , victory, release of the sundered, and castle-melting — and detailed design and carving began.

As negotiations were largely concluded, and what remained more slog than substance, King Lewis and the Tortallan royals found themselves at uncommon leisure, not to say loose ends, and (deftly encouraged by Kel) took advantage. The kings spent time together, trading military and other memories, while Queen Thayet talked to immortals and was co-opted by St'aara for a day to talk to the delighted children, and the Crown Couple took long rides and walks around the valley, talking animatedly about — Taren suspected but did not ask — Kel and her ways. Princess Lianne was left as odd one out, not least, Taren belatedly realised, because without Anna of Nicoline she had no-one to relax with — no _friend_ who wasn't also a preoccupied sibling. He drew her into some discussion of the panels, and had an animated discussion about how _her_ story might be empanelled that became a mutual confession of sorts, of the fear that had gouged at her, bone-deep, being in Biron's power and seeing Anna die, with the blistering wonder of what had followed and of what Joren had meant to his childhood, the long-sustained burdens of fear and hatred, duty to protect Sam and Var, and growing contempt for his father, exasperation with his mother, and his own slower experience of blistering wonder that followed. They had common ground in a deep gratitude to and admiration of Kel, and, more oddly, a difficulty of friendship beyond siblings whose blood could be counted on to be thicker than water — one reason Anna had been precious to Lianne — so she became the first outsider to whom Taren spoke of his informal adoption of Piers and Ilane as admirable parents, and the first person save Var to appreciate fully the blessed and bittersweet ironies of it all.

Piers and Ilane themselves, with Sir Anders, Dom, Tobeis, and Alanna added a thread of qualified but genuine concern for Kel's wellbeing in doing whatever it was she was going to do. Divine gifts were all very well, but not so good for mortal frames, and Dom had no wish ever again to watch over an emaciated and stone-still Kel sleeping off the damage, so while prayers were offered at shrines, both at the Citadel and Haven, quiet words were also had with Lord Jadewing, for relay to Lord Diamondflame, Numair and Daine, and Irnai, to pass on if she would to Lady Shakith. Dom also reported, after bearding Kel, that she truly didn't know what would be needed with the sundered spirits, but trusted she would when she needed to, and was increasingly possessed of convictions that (a) there was a lot of perfectly good ashlar at Rathhausak that shouldn't be wasted — a proposition Taren strongly agreed with — and (b) that whatever had to be cleansed should become something simple, stark, and clean.

"Her logic both entrances and baffles me, you know." Dom sipped wine reflectively. "Making killing devices by assembling Scanran ambition, dead children, Gallan necromancy, giants' bones, and Tortallan metalwork was unreasonably complicated, and bitterly dark, so any memorial to their destruction should be unreasonably simple, and gloriously light. It's no wonder she and Wuodan get on so well."

There wasn't much one could say to that, but after a moment Taren tried.

"It's like a god's-eye view, I think, Dom. We're down here in the middle of it all, but they're not, and Kel … sometimes isn't. You know the way she tends to trail off when the, um, lingering effects of the Staff of Knowledge come up?"

"Intimately, Tar."

"Why is that, do you suppose?"

"I have a dozen ideas, or none."

"Oh. Well, I've found myself wondering if it isn't because that … what do I know, but glimpse of godhead, let's say, makes her _sympathise_ with them. She'd much rather feel able to whack most of them with her glaive, but finds she can't, honourably, at least."

Dom laughed, and so did Ilane and Sir Anders, though Piers frowned.

"It's a thought, Tar, and probably not so wide of the mark. She prays _for_ as much as _to_ the Black God, certainly. But why do you think it's like a god's-eye view?"

"How the memorial _should_ be, you said, taking into account, well, almost everything. Not that I ever saw one, and if I had I dare say I'd have run away gibbering, but who else looks at a killing device and sees all that went into it, mortal and immortal, from three nations? And the sorrows radiating from it, sundered spirits and living mourners alike?"

"Huh." Alanna nodded. "Point, Taren. Kel does tend to be comprehensive. What does _unreasonably simple_ mean, though, Dom?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. But you saw killing devices — they were … all assemblage, domes and coated bones and wires and blades turning and twitching, so I'm guessing a very … clean geometrical shape, if that makes sense."

"Plenty. But what sort of clean shape?"

There was some silence before Taren shrugged, and sat forward.

"It needs somewhere for the panels to go, Alanna, and they ought to be set so light comes through them." Taren turned it in his mind. "The Guild does things in curves, too. I can't draw like Var, but suppose you had a shape like a fan sticking up from the ground at a steepish angle, curved a bit, like a strung longbow, and with a … I'll say fold in it. Like this." His crooked his hands slightly, to show the curve, and traced the shape in his mind, palms angled towards himself, rising and moving steadily away and apart for the lower part of the fan, tilting into profile for the fold and coming towards him, though still widening, and turning back to move away again for the upper part. "Panels in the fold, to catch the light, and with the curve they'd project themselves into a row on the ground in the shadow it cast. Or not the ground, but a flat strip of rock, set at the same angle as the fold so the projections wouldn't be distorted. Is that simple enough?"

Dom was giving him an odd look. "Who knows, Tar? But get Varia to draw it, and I'll show Kel. You seem to have a gift for … imagining memorials."

Taren flushed but others nodded, and Ilane's voice was warm.

"Yes, you do, dear. It's intriguing. We could do with one at Mindelan for poor Conal and the others who died in that wolfship attack. On the foreshore, maybe. And one for those lost at sea."

"There are voices on the Army Council who wanted one for the dead of our wars. The idea never went anywhere because no-one could agree what, or where, but even now a focus for the grief of the Immortals War would be good, and even more so for the Scanran War." Alanna gave a crooked grin. "Though I bet Kel would want dead immortals and Scanrans remembered too. Think of it as a challenge."

Taren flapped a hand, as Kel sometimes did, and there was laughter, but the ideas stuck with him, firing imagination, and after Alanna talked to the king Jonathan made it clear he'd consider any detailed and costed proposal seriously. More pressingly, when Kel saw Var's drawings, which refined Taren's notion and made it workable in engineering terms by connecting the folded, curved fan and the strip of rock receiving the projections, balancing the whole with a foundation to hold it secure, she gave immediate assent, and sent both Taren and Varia a deep shade of pink by hugging them both.

"Perfect."

Which made the panels a matter of urgency, and Taren spent several days chivvying carvers while organising, with Var'istaan' and Numair, the process of taking moulds and turning completed wooden panels into properly coloured ice-light replicas. The happiest person was the carver assigned the final panel, who now knew what he had to carve, and in discussing it with him intriguing refinements suggested themselves. Busy as Taren was, he still observed the bustle of preparation, civil and military, and the growing interest of all immortals, not so much in the memorial itself as in the magical co-operation that would be needed. And with everyone else he saw Prince Loup make a prize idiot of himself, and seal his immediate fate. Taren thought it might have been wiser to keep the Prince in the dark until he was left behind surrounded by haMinches, but after King Lewis privately spelt things out to his son one evening he stewed all night, and during the next dawn training stamped up to Kel, red-eyed and puce with fury, his pals trailing him.

"You have poisoned my father!"

He spoke loudly, and silence fell like a stone as training ceased. Kel only raised an eyebrow.

"I have done no such thing, Your Royal Highness. He's over there."

"You've fed him this nonsense about my serving in the army. _Serving!_ "

"Oh, that. I certainly recommended it to him." Kel's voice acquired a cutting edge. "And with good and pressing reason. Have you bothered to ask yourself _why_ Lords Biron and Pawle moved against you? _You_ , not your father. They weren't chafing under his rule, only anticipating yours and understanding what a disaster it will be, which is why they could have commanded wide support. You're idle, dissipated, unfit, and untrained, in body as in mind, not to mention rude, arrogant, and foolish. And as things stand, if you inherit the Gallan throne you'll lose it in three years. At most. Your father is seeking to save your life, as well as prevent a civil war that will inevitably spill over Galla's borders."

The puce deepened alarmingly. "You cannot insult me like that. I demand satisfaction."

The silence became arctic, despite the day's warmth, and Taren saw King Lewis's face go blank with shock.

"Now _that_ is amazingly stupid of you."

"Get your sword."

A thread of amusement entered Kel's voice. "I don't know the custom in Galla, but everywhere else the person challenged has choice of weapons." Kel borrowed a glaive from the woman she'd been sparring with, and tossed it to Prince Loup, who just caught it. "I choose glaives."

The puce faded to a flabby white. "But I can't use this!"

"You should have thought of that before you challenged a clanchief who is a master of it." Ragnar's voice was hard. "Not that any weapon would alter the outcome. And as you did not follow proper form, and are neither Scanran nor among Clanchief Hléoburh's Tortallan clansmen, but a Prince of Galla, you have also just declared war on Scanra."

"What?"

"You heard Clanchief Somalkt, Prince Loup."

"But that Scanran stuff was just to cover your killing Biron! Dorlinnes said so."

Kel's voice flattened. "I doubt it, and if he did he was wrong. I am Countess, Clanchief, Guildmaster, and Protector, all four. By Tortallan liege-oath I am bound to obey King Jonathan, who will not intervene in this, and by Scanran law I could cut you down where you stand and no man would deny my right. A clanchief's rule is far more absolute than any king's. Nor can your father any longer save you from your own folly — he wants no war with Scanra, nor with me, and however he loves you he will not spend Gallan blood to save yours."

As Kel spoke Prince Loup's head turned to look first at King Jonathan, then at his father, equally unmoving, and when he turned back he found her glaive at his throat. She held it one-handed, at maximum extension but rock-steady until she moved it to glide down one cheek, pass under his chin, and up the other cheek before withdrawing. A long tangle of scraggly beard fell away, drifting on the breeze, and the Prince stared at it before shouting rage and clumsily swinging the glaive he was misholding. His blade met Kel's, and stopped dead while hers didn't move. Astonishingly, instead of disengaging he tried to force her blade aside, and after a second something too fast for Taren to follow happened that had the Prince's glaive wrenched from his hands and spinning away in an arc, to be deftly caught by its original owner. Kel's glaive was again steady at his throat, until she spun it in a blur to whack his shoulder with the butt, driving him to his knees, and back again to rest the blade once more against his skin.

"You lose, Your Royal Highness, and your life is forfeit." Kel's voice was oddly distanced. "The last throat my glaive rested on was Maggur's, before I asked Queen Barzha to cut off his head, and he was a killer who deserved to die while you are very little more than a fool. Tell me, how many men have you ever killed? Not helpless animals driven into your range, but men, who would have killed you if they could."

Her only answer was a gasping swallow.

"I'll take it that's a none, and like your general immaturity, it shows. You are very badly out of your depth here, and need to realise it. Even disregarding the siege I've lost count of my dead, and including it my answer to that question is somewhere in the mid-two-thousands. Think about it. I don't pray to the Black God so often without good cause. We've done a lot of business together. But _very_ fortunately for you I have no love for killing, so I will give you a choice, Your Royal Highness, between death and a gods' oath."

The prince's voice was high and ragged. "You cannot for—"

"Yes, I can, and I do. Choose to die, or swear by gods' oath that for a year and a day you will obey every command given you by your father, by General Vanget, and by me, without protest or delay. Swear the oath and break it, and your blood will boil in your veins. Refuse to swear, and you die this day, this hour. None will avenge you, and your father alone will mourn you. Choose, now."

He swore, of course, though he had to be coached in wording and gesture, and chimes rang, loud and crystal pure, resonating in every bone of Taren's body. Kel inclined her head in the direction of the shrines.

"Lord Sakuyo bears personal witness to your oath, Prince Loup, and you are now bound by it. First command — report to General Vanget now, and learn to hold a polearm properly. You are dismissed."

After a humming moment he staggered to his feet, looking round and finding no support before General Vanget crooked an arm.

"Come. We'll start with basic staffwork."

He went, feet dragging, amid a brittle silence, and King Lewis walked stiffly forward, flanked by Dorlinnes and others, and went to one knee for a moment, other Gallans following.

"Thank you for your mercy and grace to my son, my lady."

As the Gallans stood Kel nodded.

"You are welcome, Your Majesty. I am truly sick of killing." Abruptly her face hardened into her mask. "But Loup has had his last chance. It comes to me that more than one soul in and out of the Peaceful Realm would have welcomed his death, and neither I nor the gods will deny them a second time. He has not killed, but it is not only seventeen Tortallans or Biron and his brothers who have died on his account. Look to it. And now you must excuse me."

Kel left at a brisk pace, Dom following, to stand before the Black God's shrine, and after an uneasy moment training resumed. King Lewis's gaze followed her before swinging round and settling on King Jonathan.

"What did that mean?"

"What Keladry said, Lewis, no more nor less. If you truly don't know, I'd look to an overzealous du Nord servant in your wife's household who has found murder an expedient means of ensuring silence."

"From Kel's manner, I'd guess one victim at least was a girl, no doubt for the usual reason." Queen Thayet's face and voice were also hard. "I strongly suggest you find the graves, and honour them as is right."

There was another humming moment before King Lewis offered Jonathan and Thayet a shallow bow.

"I begin to understand. My lords, with me. Including you lot. Questions _will_ be answered."

He pointed to Prince Loup's three pals, who found themselves shepherded after him by Dorlinnes and every other Gallan of the embassy as he walked stiffly away towards the barbican. Once they had passed through and were gone, breaths blew out all around, and after a moment Ragnar's wondering voice broke the silence.

"How stupid can someone be and still remember to breathe?"

"Very." Queen Thayet's voice was bone dry. "But not for long around Kel. You know, Jon, I don't believe we appreciate Roald as we should. Let's get some breakfast and remedy that."

The royals went, and Taren reflected, once again, that there were worse childhoods than his own had been, for all its burdens. Loup had Joren's self-regarding arrogance and pride of blood, but nothing at all to back it up, and what must have been monumental indulgence by his mother had wrought damage as surely as cruelty or neglect. He found Ragnar looking at him, one shaggy eyebrow raised.

"You were far away. A copper for them?"

"Some parents have a lot to answer for, and while I can't say I feel much better about my own I believe I have gained some perspective."

"Ah. That one. It doesn't go away." Ragnar shrugged massively. "My father got himself killed believing Maggur when he already knew better. While Maggur lived I thought only to avenge him, and with a little help from Kel I managed it. But I am not sure I have altogether forgiven him, though I know he felt he had no choice."

"Huh. Mine neglected me entirely, stupidly got his fief into a great muddle, and ran away to a hermitage, leaving me to sort it out. With a lot of help from Kel and a little from Lord Mithros I have begun to forgive the neglect, but the stupidity and cowardice yet rankle."

"A hermitage? That seems … useless."

"So Lord Mithros thought. But if I drag him out, what would he do?"

"Were you not saying Kel needs a shrine keeper, for that strange building you want at the girls' graves?"

Taren stared. "Serving Kel by keeping a wayhouse? He'd burst at the very idea!"

"It would solve the problem, either way."

Then he and Ragnar were laughing helplessly, almost crying with it, and sobered only with difficulty to find a bemused Kel offering them much needed handkerchieves, Dom and Jump grinning beside her.

"I'm glad someone's enjoying the morning."

"Thank you." Taren mopped his eyes and blew his nose. "Ragnar suggested my father might find more useful employment than solitary hermiting in keeping the _kanji_ -house for you."

The look on Kel's face almost undid the handkerchief's good work, and her voice was even drier than Queen Thayet's had been.

"He would need greatly to improve his comportment."

With considerable effort Taren kept a straight face. "Indeed. I shall be talking to him about that, among other things. But at least he can serve as a fall-back position if Dabeyoun doesn't come through."

This time Kel hooted. "Thank you, Tar. I shall be glad to think of Lord Burchard as second string to a hyena's pick, and I needed a laugh."

"Always happy to oblige. Did a god speak to you?"

"No." She sighed. "But I think one at least of those dead of Loup's is sundered. Hidden murder is a prime cause."

"With a concomitant desire of revenge?"

"Oh yes. I should tell King Lewis he'll need a priest of the Black God, because I'm bothered if I'm going back to Galla any time soon."

"Perhaps a hound would help. You always say they need exercise."

"So I do, and that's a thought." Kel frowned. "I'm not sure if naming the guilty to mortal justicers rather than hunting them is allowed. I must ask. But just now I want breakfast, and plenty of it. Princes and idiots are both hard work, and the combination's left me famished."

The journey to Rathhausak was more than a little odd but, despite a certain apprehension about what lay at its end, never less than interesting and entertaining. Besides two kings, one royal family, a very subdued prince (taken firmly in hand by General Vanget), and three clanchiefs — four after Dragonstown — all with guards and retinues, there were Kel's guests, former Rathhausakers, immortals including Quenuresh, Lord Jadewing, and the Stone Tree Nation, and many others. For Captain Uinse, Sergeant Jacut, Mistress Fanche, and Master Saefas to be away together, in Kel's and Dom's absence, was not welcome, but in this she would not deny them, and all had competent deputies while spellmirrors and darkings could provide immediate recourse if needed. King Jonathan cheerfully gave permission for serving survivors of the rescue mission to come, as long as they were technically on leave when in Scanra, and Sergeant Connac decided he'd see the end of the story, as he had its beginning. Others came as witnesses for families and trades. Kel grumbled about unscheduled holidays and bunking off, but conceded she'd rather folk had accurate reports of events.

Those without their own were loaned horses from Kel's burgeoning stables, so they made good time — one day to Dragonstown, where Lord Jadewing paid a visit to shops selling carved dragons, buildings rippling aside as he peered through windows, and pronounced himself satisfied with standards of accuracy but left the carvers quivering all the same another to Pakkai Junction, via a late lunch at Smiskir Corner. Innkeeps had been warned and food sent ahead, so the whole excursion was in effect a mobile party at Kel's considerable expense yet on the second day promised to pay for itself, when a little short of Smiskir Corner Masterminers Petrin and Kuriaju, after staring at a crag to the south, left the road together, promising to catch everyone up. They did so as lunch was ending, and went straight to Kel.

"Protector, the rock layers in that crag are exactly the same as those at Tirrsmont, and if there is not the same silver ore somewhere below I shall be surprised."

"Well now, Kuriaju, that's interesting. You agree, Petrin?"

"Oh yes, Lady Kel. The ore seam and its overload plunge at Tirrsmont, but it looks like they come up again around here." He shrugged. "Coal does that too, as if something folded the layers, like ruckling a blanket."

"Alright, though what might bend stone on that scale I don't want to know. Organise some prospecting but get yourselves food now — we need to push on." She was sitting with the kings and clanchiefs, and turned to her liegelord. "So, sire, if they're right, would I owe you tax on silver mined in the Scanran part of New Hope?"

King Jonathan rested head on hands as his wife and children smiled.

"You do ask them, Keladry. But much as I would love to say yes, no, you wouldn't. Otherwise the Council of Ten could claim you owed them on silver from the Tortallan half that I already tax. Mine it in Tortall, and the tax goes to Corus. Mine it here, and pay the tax to Hamrkeng."

"Except there isn't one, I don't think. Jorvik?"

"Quite right, Kel. The fixed tithe covers central administration and the army, but if you find silver, it's yours as much as coal or timber or the game in your woods. In need we do look first to wealthier clanchiefs, but it's a matter of persuasion, not law."

King Jonathan sighed. "Honesty is so painfully the best policy."

Kel grinned. "Cheer up, sire, because if there is silver there I'll pay a voluntary tax to Hamrkeng, at the Tortallan rate." Her gaze swung to Jorvik. "Which is twenty-five percent of profit. And assuming it's as productive as Tirrsmont, we can have some interesting conversations about what you'll do with the windfall while it lasts."

"We shall look forward to it, Kel." Ragnar was keeping a straight face with difficulty. "What did you have in mind? Slavery?"

"Top of the list, certainly. With Galla pushing as well we can strangle and stamp it out of the north as a whole. But what Tortall calls public works also — give Hamrkeng proper plumbing and sewerage, for starters. And pave the streets so we don't all have to slog through that ghastly mud whenever it isn't winter and rains."

"You have my voice already, Kel, and I'd be surprised if anyone objects." Jorvik shook his head. "Two of Hléoburh travel this way to watch you melt Castle Rathhausak, look at a crag that for all I could tell you is exactly like every other blessed crag, and less than one lunch later we're civilising Hamrkeng with sewers. Does any of that seem oddly familiar, King Lewis?"

The conversation continued into the evening at Pakkai Junction, but other matters intruded. Three more of the Council of Ten were waiting there, and a group of spidrens led by Vendurant, who laired not far north and had at Kel's request brought in boar and deer that were already roasting. Kel introduced them, and spent a while talking to Vendurant, whom she didn't often see, before Quenuresh and Aldoven took over for a spidren colloquy, and she turned attention to Clanchiefs for a Scanran one. Taren noticed Erde of Hannalof watching with an odd look as she told some tale in fast Scanran that had her fellows laughing, and recognised one of those moments when reality suddenly hit home curious, he went across, sympathised, and asked what had triggered it.

"I don't really know, my lord. I knew they were coming to meet us, and it's logical enough, but … she's so _smooth_ with it all."

"Spidrens in spidren, and Scanrans in Scanran, and never a blink?"

"Yes. I came here, you know, because it was a better opportunity than I had at Hannalof, and Svein bent my father's ear, so he wanted it. And at first I was wondering what in Tortall I'd let myself in for, and not at all sure I could cope. But now I'm proud to be a part of this … whatever it is. To serve her."

"She's won your loyalty, Erde, and that I understand well. So do many. But I am intrigued as to why spidrens and Scanrans brought it home."

Taren wasn't sure Erde understood himself but thought Hannalof was a martial as well as politically-minded fief, and Erde had recognised the true scale of the power Kel wielded. Their talk was interrupted when a dozen hounds, quite coincidentally, as all blandly assured Kel, loped in from the woods just as the first boar and deer were ready to be carved. Wuodan and Frige were among them, with Cerus, and Kel considered them with raised eyebrows.

"Mmmm. Tell me, Wuodan, are you familiar with the phrase _singing for your supper_?"

 _I have heard it, Protector._

"Good. Why don't you and Frige join us at what is passing as high table? I have a … procedural question for you."

Kel let the hounds have meatier longbones and joints they could gnaw, rather than the succulent slices mortals received, and to Neal's vast amusement insisted they eat some vegetables as well.

"Gatecrash mortal meals, Wuodan, and eat a mortal diet. But chew on this, too. I know there are clear rules for when you're Hunting and when you're not, but you smell guilt regardless, so when you're _not_ are you allowed to tell a mortal in authority that someone reeks of guilt?"

Wuodan and Frige both stared at her.

 _What an interesting question, Protector. No rule covers such a circumstance, because it would not usually arise. What have you in mind?_

"Somewhere in Galla is an unmarked grave or three I have charged King Lewis to find and honour. The murderer is unknown, but likely to be among a small group. I was wondering if you might be introduced, to identify any guilty and alert a priest of the Black God to the presence of any sundered souls — unless you can open the way for them yourself?"

 _You wish us to deputise for Dabeyoun while also … pointing the guilty for mortal law to deal with rather than enacting our own justice?_

Taren couldn't remember Wuodan ever hesitating, and appreciated the pure dogginess of his image, the hunt pointing the guilty as a water spaniel did marshfowl. Kel simply nodded.

"I do, Wuodan, if you will and it's allowed. It's more deputising for me than for Dabeyoun, though. The Black God's gift gives me an itch about such things, I'm finding, and its range is far greater than I'd expected. Merely talking to someone who benefited from these Gallan killings was enough to make me aware of them, which is why I think there's at least one sundered spirit, but I really can't go traipsing off to Galla again."

King Lewis muttered something Gallan that Taren would bet amounted to sincere relief, and Wuodan took a reflective bite of the haunch in front of him, but one advantage of mind-speech was that you could talk with your mouth full.

 _It is another of your pleasingly direct solutions, Protector, so I will ask Mithros, and if he has no objection I dare say Frige and I would enjoy a longer run. Roasted does make a pleasant alternative to raw, sometimes._

"Good. Thank you." She turned to King Lewis. "Your Majesty, when you are ready to proceed, which I trust will be sooner than later, please offer an informative prayer at a shrine to Lord Weiryn, and ask him nicely to pass the message on. He knows the hounds need more exercise than they're getting, so I expect he'll oblige." Her eyes rested on a happily chewing Cerus. "Some more than others, but they've all realised wayhouses are a handy source of food."

 _You already have us signed up to chase the Chaos-tainted from here to the Icefalls, Protector. When we wind up lean and footsore, be sure we will descend on the Citadel to recuperate._

"And welcome, Wuodan, should such a point be reached."

"I shall do so, Countess." King Lewis's eyebrows were well on course for his receding hairline, but his gaze was sharp. "Yet another means of certain justice. How many more do you have?"

"It's just doing what's possible, Your Majesty, and finding ways for mortals and immortals and the Hunt to co-operate."

Wuodan cracked a bone. _The Protector has a way of asking us to do what we are happy to do, Lewis of Barbonne. This business of confining gods for a century is all very well, but the Hunt cannot be idle for so long. Guarding the road is good, but pointing those who would deserve Hunting will be more deeply satisfying, I believe._

"So you're scratching Keladry's itch, and she's scratching yours. Literally." King Jonathan grinned, and Wuodan gave him a look. "Or not. The griffins like sitting in court, too, and they do make trials much smoother and quicker. You realise, Lewis, that lawyers can't lie any more than defendants or witnesses?"

"Truly? That would be worth seeing. I had hoped to speak to the Godborn about griffins, but …"

"Mmm." Kel's look was cool. Daine and Numair were with them, but had persistently avoided Gallan company. "Snowsdale was even worse for her than I'd realised, Your Majesty, so I'm afraid that's not on. Nor is asking Lord Weiryn or the Green Lady, as she was murdered there when mortal, and they were both less than happy with how Snowsdale treated their orphaned daughter." She shrugged as King Lewis winced. "Mortals will be mortals, and Daine admits she was lost in magic and grief, thinking more like one of the People than a two-legger, but still. You might send someone to tell them the truth and swear it by gods' oath, by way of pointing out what they cost themselves as well as you. You might also try being nice to Quenuresh, who can farspeak and talk to griffins. Or with justice at stake, Lord Mithros might oblige if you asked _very_ nicely. If one does turn up one day, offer it fresh fish. Oh, and while none can speak to mortals without an interpreter, some read Old Thak."

King Lewis hadn't blinked, but did rest his chin on his hands. "You are an education, lady, and all kindness."

"I try, Your Majesty." Suddenly Kel grinned. "And you shouldn't be repining, you know. If I was still cross with you I'd assign Junior to Gallan griffin liaison duties."

King Lewis stared but King Jonathan and Queen Thayet, as well as Jorvik and Ragnar, snorted laughter.

"Now that's a real threat, Lewis, believe me." King Jonathan frowned slightly. "Though he's been very … I almost want to say subdued, except that's hardly his style. I don't believe I've seen him swoop on anyone since I came north."

"No." Kel had turned, staring out at the nearest woodeaves, and sounded abstracted. "He nipped through the dragon gateway to Aussonne, at considerable risk, and managed to get himself scolded by Diamondflame. Ask Tobe — he saw it. But please excuse me a minute."

She rose, still looking out, and Dom laid a hand on her arm.

"Love?"

"Sundered. From those slavers, I expect."

Her voice was distant, and after a second Dom spoke in an undertone all could still hear.

"We got Haven's adults back just here, killing the slavers who had them, and their guards. Nearly two hundred, all told. Bodies went to the woods, of necessity. When the wayhouse was built we had bones gathered and burned, but the People had already taken many of them."

He broke off as Kel started towards the eaves, rising to follow her with one hand keeping anyone else from following while the other summoned four of the Clanchief's Guard and signalled fighting ogres to stay put. King Jonathan's tone was speculative.

"The slavers were Scanrans so a proper Clanchief's Guard won't spook them? But ogres or other mortals gawking would?"

To the surprise of some but not Taren it was Tobe, hitherto quiet beside his Ma and Da, who answered.

"Most were Scanrans, sire, but slavers are always a mixed bag. Two or three were Carthaki, and at least one Bazhir. But I think you have Da's reasons right."

"Thank you, Tobe. I'd half-forgotten you were with them. Are you alright?"

Tobe glanced up with a quick smile. "I'm good, sire. I don't mourn slavers, even sundered ones. But I was thinking, those Carthakis came a long and dirty way to die far from home. And I don't know what rites they'd have wanted to guide them to the Black God."

"Not so different from ours, Tobe. But you're right about a long and dirty …"

His voice trailed off because Kel had reached the eaves, and after a moment raised her command voice with a timbre to it that Taren had never heard, nor from their looks anyone else, even Tobe.

"You mortal spirits, who in life helped to steal the children of Haven, and whom I slew or ordered slain here that its adults might live free, if you would pass to the Peaceful Realm, unshriven and unforgiven yet without my curse, come to me now. You will have no second chance."

Taren's eyes strained into the darkness beyond the firelight, and he felt Var's hand find his own, squeezing, but there was nothing for mortal eyes to see. Wuodan and Frige, though, were standing taut, eyes flickering flame, and so were other hounds.

 _I cannot share my vision, mortals, but the dead come to her. Two score at least. More._ Satisfaction flooded Frige's mindvoice. _And she sees how to open the way for them using the Black God's own power, granted with his gift, and does not drain herself._

 _Why do so for enemies, however sundered?_ Wuodan sounded pleased too. _She has always learned fast, and the Staff of Knowledge liked her touch. Much as the Timeway did._

Taren still saw nothing distinct but was aware of something, a disturbance of vision that flared and faded and was gone. He did see Kel turn to Dom, and rest for a moment in her husband's arms.

 _And it is done. She will sleep now, and be awake early to press on, so I suggest you sleep also, mortals._

Wuodan was right that Kel and Dom did not return, and Tobe and Irnai took his advice, but adults lingered, King Lewis and newcome Clanchiefs sizing one another up until Queen Thayet took advantage of Kel's absence to coax from Neal, Mistress Fanche, and Master Saefas their versions of what had happened here three years ago. Everyone knew Kel's report, which had circulated as far as Galla, but to hear the tale told more fully and first-hand was a fascination, and Taren, Sam, and Var eventually went to bed with heads spinning at the thought of all Kel's tiny command and refugees had in sober fact done.

The same thoughts were in Taren's mind next morning as they rode on. The Smiskir Ford was a hundred yards above its confluence with the Pakkai, a shelf of scoured rock, and even in high summer the water was deep and cold enough to make him draw his feet up and his horse snort. Thinking of what Kel had said when they rode to find the abducted girls, he saw her making the crossing on foot, leading horses laden with children, probably many times over with so few adults and so many beasts of burden but once they entered the forbidding Pakkai valley, narrow, densely wooded, and steeply enclosed, with the river running fast and cold hard by the southern cliffs, he found himself thinking of the outward journey — twenty-nine adults, barely half trained warriors, and Tobe grimly pursuing one-hundred-and-seventy soldiers and two hundred children. He recalled Svein saying his men had thought the expedition unauthorised, and knew it must be true, that Kel had gone after her people with only what support she could personally command or cajole — yet her wholly inadequate force had carved through everything in its way, as the swift Pakkai had carved out this valley but a great deal faster. And the valley became no more welcoming even when sunlight edged down cliffs and lit woods : this was untamed land, the dirt road often overgrown, testifying to the lack of traffic, and the woods dense, the haunt of bears and bobcats, elk and boar. Curious, Taren moved up to fall in beside Jorvik and Ragnar.

"I was wondering why Clan Rathhausak, while it existed, did so little with any of this land."

Jorvik shrugged. "The valley widens further on, and there is farmland round the village. They needed no more, and preferred to hunt forests."

"And had no wish to be welcoming." Ragnar's smile was mirthless. "Maggur was a great departure for them, in every sense. His longfathers kept themselves to themselves unless they had pressing reason, and wanted no visitors if they could help it. The Pakkai suited them well."

"Huh. So when did they build Castle Rathhausak, and what was it needed to keep out?"

"Tortallans." Jorvik's smile was more genuine. "And other Scanrans, of course. The present castle was built a century or so back, while Jasson was eating up Barzun and elsewhere, because they thought, rightly, that when he'd eaten south to the sea he'd look north, and also, wrongly but understandably, that the Vassa wouldn't stop him. But Scanra was having its own upheavals, as it usually is, and there was more than one clanchief who looked at the wealth of game here and sighed."

"The village has a watermill too. Or did. Our shamans cannot cut millstones, as some mages can, so even now mills are far rarer here than in Tortall. With so little grain grown, they represent much effort and cost for something essentially needless."

Taren quirked an eyebrow. "How so, Ragnar? Would you not have bread?"

"Surely, but mortar and pestle will make flour for one family's bread."

"Huh. So why did Clan Rathhausak have a mill?"

"Good question. Does it matter?"

"Probably not, Jorvik. But it sounds an oddity, and it occurs to me they might have found a mage who could spellcut millstones, in which case Maggur collecting Blayce might not have been quite such a departure as Ragnar suggested. I was thinking about him growing up here, and that I'd have been desperate to get out too."

"Interesting," Jorvik frowned. "But Maggur Reidarsson seized the Bloody Throne well before we heard of the Gallan sorcerer who would make us weapons to beat Tortall."

"Maggur knew before us, Jorvik, and who is to say how long before?"

"True, Ragnar. And I would not doubt Maggur knew of Blayce, but I doubt he had his services for long before we saw the fruit of them."

Taren shrugged. "I can't speak to any of that. I just wondered if a young Maggur saw millstones his father was proud of, that had some story attached, and thought _Out in the world my longfathers found a man who could make grinding stones for corn, so I could find one to make grinding stones for men._ And, it turned out, women and children."

Both Scanrans stared at him.

"That is a fearsome thought, Taren." Jorvik hunched slightly. "And surely that is what he found, when he began to travel."

When they stopped for a cold lunch, provided by the innkeeps at Pakkai Junction, Zerhalm and other former Rathhausakers were able to confirm the millstones had been spellcut, as their tale had it by a Barzuni mage who had fled north when Jasson attacked south. Both Kel and King Jonathan were listening, and she nodded sadly.

"That sounds right. War begets war, almost always, and historians only scratch the surface. They connect the Barzuni war to the revolt there eight years later, but not to Maggur. Why should they? But there it is, from the honest advantage of one displaced mage to the vile advantage of another, two generations down the line. It's the Timeway's version of a pebble starting an avalanche."

It was also, Taren thought as they rode on, exactly what Kel was trying to prevent, breaking the cycle of Scanran wars Jasson had left as a legacy, however Tortallans rarely saw it that way, and something to which his own interest in memorials spoke. They were not only to honour the dead, but also to warn the living of war's costs and frequency, and throughout the afternoon he pondered the connection with stormwings' purpose, reaching no conclusion but gaining clarity, and filing away ideas for the putative memorials at Mindelan and in Corus.

When the twenty-nine had come this way they had been limited by the speed and endurance of warhorses bearing fully armoured knights, and it had taken two days to reach village and castle. For all its size the present party was travelling lighter and making better time, but there was a delay in late afternoon when they passed a hollow by some bluffs and Kel released more sundered to the Peaceful Realm. It had once been Stenmun's camp, Taren gathered from Tobe, and he had not delayed to bury men lost overnight. Some miles further on they halted, filling a clearing with cheerful fires, and thankful the weather stayed fair as they spread bedrolls. Kel spent time with former Rathhausakers, and at dawn sent ten ogres and as many Guards to scout the village, more on principle than in expectation.

Not long after they set off next day there were more sundered to release, at the site of an ambush where Stenmun had again left dead unburied. It was not, Kel observed drily to a fascinated audience as they rode on, just the lack of graves, for to die was to open a way to the Peaceful Realm, but a combination of sudden death and guilty life that made some souls shun that way, with the absence of any rite to force transition. And no, she had not learned from her own death but from the Black God's gift, which let her know answers to questions about sundering that struck her — much as the Staff of Knowledge had, but with a far narrower remit. No-one had any reply, and conversation was scant for a while.

In mid-morning the valley's profile began to change, southern cliffs dwindling and northern slopes retreating to give the Pakkai more space, of which it took advantage. Cleaving to the northern side, the road began to rise and fall, crossing shallow vales with small creeks feeding the Pakkai, and low ridges. The forest remained thick, and Taren had no real sense of how the land lay more widely, but the sun told him they had swung north-west, and a while after he'd begun wondering about lunch they topped a slight rise to see Rathhausak village. It sat in a wide vale bisected by a larger creek, a huddle of houses and barns with the mill by the Pakkai, amid fields run to seed and carpeted with wild flowers beyond the further rise the curtain wall and soot-blackened keep of the castle loomed by a sheer cliff, an ugly and threatening silhouette that went with the feel of desertion. Ogres and Scanrans were waiting by the shallow ford, where the village road began.

"No-one here, Lady Kel," Wulf reported. "A few have been — a couple of houses have had fires lit and beds used not so long ago — but no-one's stayed. Clanless and deserters, I'd guess, and I'm not surprised they moved on." He moved his shoulders uneasily. "On my own I'd not stay here while my legs worked."

"Thank you, Wulf. Guard the ford, please — no mortal to cross without my permission." Kel's voice went to command mode. "My lord, Your Majesties, everyone, those who once lived here and left at very short notice need time to check their property, so we'll bivouac in the meadow for now. Please stay on this side of the creek until I say otherwise. Get yourselves sorted and assemble outside the village in half-a-mark and I'll explain what will be happening."

Zerhalm and Irnai led former villagers among the houses, while other mortals set about picketing horses and eating a welcome lunch, cold cuts of last evening's game and bread that was drying but still tasty. Lord Jadewing and other dragons settled in the meadow, looking curiously around, and there was a buzz of conversation, as much, Taren thought, to hold off the oppressive feel as for anything that was said. Once he was sure Vesker and his men were set, and the bivouac was settled to the satisfaction of royal escorts and clanchiefs' Guards, he and Sam joined Var, who was sketching the contrast of wildflowers and blackened silhouette, to wait for Kel.

She came from the village with Zerhalm, Irnai, and a small group of Rathhausakers, all with set faces, and waved everyone to gather round. Dragons and taller immortals peered over heads, and despite the atmosphere Taren felt a sudden tweak of amusement at the sheer improbability of the gathering and its purpose.

"My lord, Your Majesties, Royal Highnesses, everyone, demolishing that castle is tomorrow's business. Today, some of us have another task, because there are three kinds of bodies or what is left of them in there — those Blayce and Stenmun killed, to be recovered in all honour those we lost in the attack, and burned ere we departed, likewise and those left for stormwings, to be cremated without ceremony. Then I will deal with the sundered. These of Rathhausak come in hope of recovering lost kin. Numair, Lord Jadewing, I will need your powers, if you will. Sire, I believe you and yours should come, for the Tortallan dead. Clanchiefs of Scanra, besides those of Rathhausak and villages around the Scanran dead here were Kinslayer's men, deserving no honour, but you are welcome in witness. King Lewis, Prince Loup, you have no obligation here" — Kel did not mention Blayce had been Gallan, any more than Taren had — "but may come if you will. Immortals and lords and ladies of Tortall likewise. All who were with me then are with me now. For the rest, a score of volunteers will be welcome for a grim task, but all others please stay here until we are done. If you lack occupation and are minded to help, the other Rathhausakers are setting about their houses to reclaim what they can and will, and to make them usable for all should the weather turn. Many hands make light work."

Taren, Sam, and Var decided to go as volunteers rather than by noble right, and Kel gave them a look.

"Sure? It will not be fun."

"We can hold a sack to receive bones, Kel, and will be proud to do so."

Var's voice was steady, and Taren felt a renewed surge of pride in the woman his little sister was fast becoming.

"Very well. It's far enough that we'll ride."

Taren had a word with Vesker, who had already volunteered his men to clean and carry in the village, and shortly found himself splashing across the ford in Lord Jadewing's wake. At the top of the rise the road ran straight for a mile or so, then bent north the rusting hulks of three killing devices lay close together along one stretch, making Taren swallow at their reality. Reaching the bend he realised it was forced by the Pakkai, which had carved itself a deep channel bounding the higher ground the castle, in full view beyond a once cleared zone overgrown with long grass and scrub, nestled between the cliff, protecting its north side, and the river, protecting its south. There was no moat or abatis, gates sagged drunkenly open, and Taren saw with a queasy twist that cages hung from the merlons of the curtain wall, what bones were left within catching the sunlight.

Those, as it turned out, were Kel's first order of business, and once horses were safely picketed she turned to Lord Jadewing.

"My lord, it was for this that I asked you to come. Might you reach us down those ghastly cages, as carefully as may be?"

 _Of course, Protector. The bones are those of mortals Stenmun killed to coerce their kin?_

"They are, my lord."

 _It was abomination. I honour them._

What would for mortals have been a slow and awkward business was for Lord Jadewing barely a moment's work. The curtain wall might be a good forty feet, but the great dragon merely sat up on his haunches, as a cat might, and carefully grasping each cage in turn with one forepaw snapped the suspending chain with the other. All broke cleanly, and each cage was set down gently by Kel and Dom, anxious Rathhausakers behind them. An ogre forced the rusted lock to open the door of the first, and after a silent moment Kel bowed to the bones within, knelt, and laid a hand on a longbone. After a few seconds she rose, turning to seek a face she knew, and spoke a name. An elderly couple came forward, faces graven with grief, to claim their son, and watched Sergeant Jacut, face an austere mask, reverently pick up bones to place in a clean cotton sack Captain Uinse held. Looking round, heart aching, Taren saw Sergeant Connac giving another sack to Master Saefas and Mistress Fanche, and went with Sam to collect one himself. Theirs was the fifth cage, its occupant Zerhalm's wife, and the ache in his heart grew as he bowed and Var curtsied deeply, and they began to lift longbones, pelvis, ribs, collarbones, and skull, for the sack Sam held, eyes wet the small bones of hands, wrist, and feet were missing, fallen to earth long ago. Zerhalm took the sack silently, cradling it as he walked away, and Taren took a deep breath, seeing Sergeant Connac also had panniers for sacks to be returned to Haven for full rites, and braced himself to enter the castle.

Four ogres wrenched the sagging leaves of the gate free, weakened hinges loose in the stone, and carried them aside to let Kel walk through, face a mask. By unspoken consent everyone waited for those of the twenty-nine present to follow her before falling in behind, Taren finding Var's hand in his own as they entered the gloom of the barbican. The portcullis was raised, as Kel had left it, massive chains rusted in place, and the heavy bar that once locked the gates lay to one side, streaked with colourful lichens. Before him the gaunt and blackened frame of the burnt-out keep reared skyward, and nothing seemed to have fared better — hall, stableblock, and barracks were gutted and roofless, standing walls stained and speckled. Even a privy block had burned, one wall falling to show the characteristic layout.

"Huh. A more thorough job of arson than reported."

General Vanget spoke as much to himself as anyone, but Kel nodded without turning.

"Sparks did a better job than I knew, Vanget. Or someone helped. His Nibs, maybe. But bones before buildings."

And there were bones enough. On the nearer side of the courtyard, away from the keep, a small pile of scorched and thinned bone-shards, some clearly animal, marked the Tortallan pyre. All around, white and whole, a dense scatter of bones with odds of rusting armour represented Stenmun's command, some showing deep gouges from weapons that slew them or stormwing claws, but none marked by animal teeth the People had known better than to enter here, however tempting the bait. Winds swirled down by keep and curtain wall had piled small bones, bootsoles, and fragments of clothing into corners. Taren heard breaths sucked in as those entering behind him saw the scene.

"Numair, the honoured dead first. Please gather all _burnt_ bone, human, horse, and dog, with any associated dust, into the chest Uinse and Jacut bear."

There was no doubt in Kel's voice that it was possible, and though Numair's eyebrows quirked he didn't demur there was a brief, charged wait, however, before sparkling black magic spilled from his hands to sweep gently across the flagstones, gathering dust and shards. When the pile had been as gently, reverently, tipped into the chest Kel nodded thanks and walked across to Uinse and Jacut, resting a hand on the rim.

"High One, Lord of the Peaceful Realm, the souls of Gilead Lofts, Morun Locksman, Petter Miller, Cladir Sweep, Garto Freeman, Jorvik Rider, Jerol Fulcher, and Ardis Lofren have long been in your care. I ask that they know their mortal remains are honoured, and will be interred at Haven, and that if it pleases you they be allowed to see what passes here this day and tomorrow. Lord Arawn, I ask as much for the soul of Windtreader, whom his rider Owen knew as Happy and yet grieves. Dog gods, I do not know your names, but I ask as much again for the souls of Shepherd, a boarhound of Haven, and the three nameless dogs of mixed breed who died here with him. All are missed and remembered with love, gratitude, and sorrow. So mote it be"

Kel made the gods' circle, others echoing her, and chimes sounded as wind soughed through trees, carrying against its silence a distant whinny and barking. Taren felt reverence tighten, as Var's hand did, and he could see a sheen on Kel's cheek, but she only nodded gravely.

"Thank you, High Ones. Now then …"

Kel took Dom's hand a moment, as if for solace, but walked forward alone, among tangled Scanran bones. What she was after Taren had no idea, though as she took slow strides, eyes lingering on skulls, he began to suspect — a notion confirmed when she stooped to lift one with a circle of bone missing above the eye sockets, cradled it in her hands a minute, and turned to toss it to Dom.

"Stenmun."

Her second quarry took longer to find, but eventually she pushed aside a heap of longbones and lifted a second skull, staring with extreme distaste before tossing it to, of all people, Irnai, who caught it neatly.

"Blayce."

Irnai wasn't asking a question but Kel nodded. "Yes. I think he'll hear you, Irnai, if you care to tell him anything. One to go." She looked up to meet Barzha's gaze from her perch on the curtain wall. "Into the keep, Your Majesty?"

"Of course, Protector. Where else?"

"Latrine block? It's hardly beyond you."

Kel ignored the stormwing cackles, crooking a finger. "With me, Moriaju, please, in case any lifting's needed."

Taren was distracted by the faint sound of Irnai hissing a curse at Blayce's skull, asking that his soul feed the spirits of every flea, tick, mosquito, louse, horsefly, and gnat that ever lived, but kept his eyes on the arched doorway through which Kel and Moriaju had disappeared. Spilling daylight made it stand out sharply from the heavily sooted and fire-streaked stones that framed it, and there were echoing noises as fallen debris was shifted. Taren had seen houses that had burned, but never such a large stone structure, and a murmured exchange showed Var equally surprised by the completeness of the destruction.

"Floors and joists must all have gone up together, Tar. Flammables in Blayce's workroom, maybe, or papers, and I'd bet they set the fire at many points. But I think Kel might be right that someone helped out, and we know the gods loathe necromancy."

"Mmm. But it's odd, Var. Why should they need Kel to start it, and make sure there was no-one to fight it, but then fan it themselves?"

Var shrugged. "They like our sweat. And Kel would say _parsimony_ , maybe. So much turned on rescuing the children and calling _blódbeallár_ on Maggur. If Lord Mithros had just blasted the place to smithereens how many innocents would have died? And who would know?"

"Points, Var. But gods, she walked a long way in their shadow before she won through to walk beside them."

He fell silent, with others, as Kel and Moriaju emerged through the archway. Kel's breeches had a long smear of soot, and Moriaju's hands were filthy with it, but she bore a third skull, deeply pocked and gouged. Stormwing claws, Taren supposed. Dom and Irnai had already set the other skulls down beside one another, and Kel put it next to them.

"And Maggur makes three. Numair, I have a use for these, but everything else needs to go, now. Would you please pile all remaining bones in one big heap, and add anything flammable among the debris? There's little if any timber left in the keep, but hall, barracks, and stables burned from the top down so I'd expect more cinders and charcoal. And the soot. Armour to one side."

Numair sounded dubious. "Willingly, Kel, but so many dry bones'll need more than that if you want them reduced to ash."

"Not with dragonfire." In other circumstances her expression might have been a grin as she turned to Kawit, standing just inside the archway. "You said a while back that to extend firespell training we'd need less restrictive conditions than safety allows at New Hope. If you and Lord Jadewing" — she gestured to the great dragon, peering over the curtain wall — "can provide secure containment, younger dragons can have at the pile Numair makes with all they have. I'd like nothing left."

Kawit swished her tail. _You have an eye for possibilities, Protector. I will speak with Jadewing and the others while Numair works._

For Numair to sweep bones into a great heap was the work of a moment, and armour clattered into another pile at the same time, but the rest took longer and Alanna and King Jonathan pitched in to gather cinders and charcoal, streaming them through doorways to drop on the pile. It was, Taren thought, a measure of how very far Prince Loup still had to go that he stared with open amazement at a mage-king volunteering for menial work, and there were some crisply informative words from General Vanget, seconded by King Lewis, as well as a scornful glance from Princess Lianne, standing between her mother and brother. When it came to soot Lord Jadewing joined in, rippling ribbons of black, blue, purple, and green magic scouring stone clean and depositing enough soot over the bones that in the end there was a mostly smooth black cone below a very angular white tangle. Kel had been eyeing all the burned buildings with a pensive expression, but nodded her satisfaction.

"Thank you, all. Kawit, prepare to burn that out of existence, please, but wait for my signal to start."

 _Of course, Protector._

All mortals present fell back as apprentice and journeydragons entered, and Lord Jadewing vaulted the curtain wall, space expanding to provide a safe landing. He and Kawit set themselves on opposite sides of the pile, doing something magical Taren couldn't see but other dragons clearly could, becoming intent.

 _We are ready when you are, Protector._

Kel raised a hand in acknowledgement without turning. "Thank you, my lord. One moment, if you will." Her voice shifted into that edged command mode and Scanran. "You mortal spirits, who in life served Stenmun Kinslayer to protect Blayce Younger's necromancy and murders of children, I who slew you, or commanded your slayers, neither forgive nor forget your crimes. Yet you took orders, not giving them, and your bones will shortly be consumed by dragonfire — far more honour than any of you deserve, and enough to set you on your way to join your longfathers, if you will. Come to me as they burn, and I will send you to the Peaceful Realm, unforgiven and unshriven but without my curse. Refuse me now, and you will have no second chance."

Taren could hear General Vanget translating in a harsh undertone for Prince Loup, and Prince Roald doing as much for his parents and sister, but his eyes were locked on Kel, half-turned so she could see both burned buildings and unlit pile, as he wondered anew at how much she considered and weighed.

"As you will, my lords and ladies."

There was no signal Taren heard or saw, but streams of fire came from all the younger dragons, including Lady Skysong and Lady Icefall, pouring into the pile, instantly an incandescent white with a great gout of flame roaring straight up, obviously channelled through a narrow apex much as a hose channelled water. The glare was muted by what must be the older dragons' containment, but still far too bright to stare at, and Kel was just as spellbinding as one arm made a sharp gesture and the other urged something forward. He could no more see sundered souls now than before, but something in the intensity or nature of the pyre-light etched the outlines of an archway where there was none, and the hint of swirling grey within flickered as ragged human silhouettes passed through, once, twice, then in countless crescendo. After a long moment it stilled and vanished, and turning his head on a neck that felt stiff Taren saw the fire was fading swiftly, and shortly nothing remained, not even ash. As if recognising what had happened, the sun slid out from a cloudbank and slanting afternoon light brightened everything, gleaming on newly clean walls and dust-free flagstones. Kel brushed hands together with satisfaction.

"Thank you all."

 _It is no trouble, Protector._

"You have our thanks also, Lord Jadewing, Lady Kawit, and all honoured _draca_." Like every watching Scanran's, Jorvik's face was wondering as he turned. "As you do, once again, Clanchief Hléoburh. Those men lived and died badly, to our great shame, and yet they were but men who did as they were ordered. Your generosity is a grace."

Kel's face was still. "You and all Scanrans are welcome, Clanchief Hamrkeng, yet those souls were wise to depart as they did. I doubt my generosity will survive what must come next." She took a deep breath. "Kawit, I told you how Lord Diamondflame lifted buried trees from the mud of the landslip, when we built the clifftop abatis."

 _You did, Protector._

"Could you do as much for buried bones? If possible, one skeleton at a time, though they will be tangled together, I expect. Stenmun wouldn't have bothered with coffins."

 _I can try, Protector. Who else must be recovered here?_

"The children, Kawit. The Black God has had their souls safely since each killing device was slain, but their bodies must have been buried or dumped here, and I would not leave whatever yet remains in this place."

 _Ah. That is well, yet no easy task. Do you know where they lie, Protector?_

"I'm about to, Kawit."

What followed as the sun westered and shadows lengthened was so intimate with horror and sorrow beyond words that long before it was done Taren felt as numb as he was silent. Kel found the bodies where one might expect given Stenmun's rough carelessness, in a pit midden behind the hall, where a small kitchen-garden had intermittently been ransacked for earth to cover them. In one way it was easier than it might have been, for nothing had disturbed them, and Kawit said the patterns of association were clear but the bones were slight enough to be fragile, and could not be drawn through earth at any speed. As the problem became clear Lord Jadewing and older apprentices and journeydragons joined in, clustered around the midden, mortal mages interspersed to gather the proper contents of middens to one side, out of the way, return soil by the hundredweight to the kitchen garden, and gently relieve recovered bones of anything that clung to them. There were many more clean cotton sacks, each with a number inked on it, for volunteers to hold as heartwrenchingly small skulls and bones were placed within, and with each Kel rested a hand on them and after a moment spoke a name that Dom noted on a list of the numbers.

There were anomalies too — eight adult skeletons she identified as villagers, murdered but not gibbeted, to join the others, and two of Stenmun's men slain by him in anger, consigned to the courtyard for belated incineration. Three infant skeletons, bare wisps of bone, were nameless stillbirths and an infanticide, that Kel said after a painful moment could rest with Blayce's victims at Haven.

"The other children will not grudge them a place."

With dusk drawing down it was at last done, but Kawit frowned into the deeply excavated midden.

 _There is an adult skeleton in there also, Protector. It is older by perhaps two decades._

Kel's face was drawn, eyes hooded, but after a moment she shrugged. "This should be no-one's grave, Kawit. Let's make it a clean sweep."

When the stained bones reached the light she laid a hand on one, and with raised eyebrows turned to Jorvik, who like all the Clanchiefs had observed without moving, face ever more deeply graven.

"Does Hengist Reidarsson mean anything to you, Jorvik?"

He jerked in surprise. "It does, Kel, though I have not heard that name in many years. Maggur's older brother, reported killed by a bear while hunting."

"No wonder Maggur got on with Stenmun Kinslayer, though he once claimed he had betrayed none." Taren winced at her dust-dry tone, and saw others do likewise. "What would you have me do with these? His soul is not sundered, and his bones no business of mine to honour or shame."

"This was his place, and he would have wished to burn. We will see to it, if we may use some timber."

"By all means. The gate-timbers will be deadwood enough. And add the bones of those slain guards, if you will."

Hengist's bones went into a final sack, and Ragnar took them.

"Are we done here for today, Kel?"

"Not quite, Ragnar. We have more spectators than you see."

Her steps unusually revealing a weariness that must in every way be bone-deep, Kel returned to the courtyard, drinking deeply from a waterbottle before asking Rathhausakers to gather round and all others to stand away. Taren found himself by King Jonathan and Queen Thayet, her arm round Princess Lianne, as they heard Kel explain that she would ask sundered villagers if they chose release to the Peaceful Realm now, or would stay to witness the morrow and that while sundered souls were permitted speech, never having left the Mortal Realm, and she could, briefly, share the Black God's gift of seeing souls, there was no assurance of speech or hearing. What was said in reply he could not hear, but it was clear that while some wanted no ghostly reunions, only surety of release, others accepted Kel's kiss, the elderly couple and Zerhalm among them. Irnai didn't, and King Jonathan murmured.

"She spares herself, then."

"Or Lady Shakith spares Kel the need, sire."

The king sighed. "Right you are, my lord. All gods, what a day this has been. And what a choice to have to make. I would not wish such a meeting with any of my dead, and I don't suppose you would either."

"Hardly. Do you think Kel wrong not to decide for them?"

"By no means. Only that I am for once very relieved to stand in my own shoes."

Taren thought about the truth and ironies of that one, but watched Kel once more call the sundered and the stunned expressions on the faces of those she had gifted sight as they stared and moved towards that which he could not see. After a while Zerhalm and others moved slowly away to pass out through the barbican, Kel — and, he saw, Irnai — watching them and whatever accompanied them with both joy and sorrow before Kel turned back to consider something — someones — and after a moment raised her voice one last time.

"Lord of the Peaceful Realm, these come to you in all innocence, guiltless and weary after long vigil. Of your grace and mercy, might one of your servants guide them home?"

She started to gesture but her arm fell to her side as a doorway rimmed with silver that Taren could very definitely see blazed into existence, and two figures stepped through. It needed no memory of the images on the shrine at Haven to have him dropping to his knees, with the royals and every other mortal, even a gaping Prince Loup. Most immortals also dropped their heads, though dragons simply watched with interest as Kel bowed, wariness as well as weariness evident.

"My lady, Dabeyoun. Thank you. You are kind."

"Hardly." The Graveyard Hag gave a loud sniff. "It's all work with you, dearie. You've had us hopping for three days now. And Da didn't gift you so you could keep sundered here to watch one of your little shows."

"I merely spread your burden as I can, my lady."

The goddess gave a gap-toothed grin. "Good one. And it's not as if we haven't been waiting long enough. They have, too, so if they want to wait a little longer that's their business. But Dabeyoun's wondering why you're keeping those three skulls, and so am I."

"Do you have need or use for them, my lady?"

"Only as paperweights, dearie, if I needed paperweights."

"Well, don't fret, then, my lady. I want no more skullroads. I only thought they could, um, justly participate in the memorial."

"Huh. Memorials, yet. Are you really going to melt all this into something else?"

"The basilisks and dragons are, my lady, while the living and sundered watch. Should she not know, you might tell Lady Shakith that I have the Staff of Light, to dedicate the Guild's work when it is done."

"You're getting good at this, dearie. And if I'm not mistaken you'll have more spectators than living and dead."

"Really?" Taren couldn't see Kel's face but knew her eyebrows would be raised. "Well, all are welcome, of course, my lady. And I dare say such days of leisure are compensation for all the work I occasion you."

The Hag cackled, and Dabeyoun yipped amusement.

"Fair doos, dearie, and even I can't say you're not being useful. I'll be seeing you. Come on, then, you lot. And yes, you can stay if you want, Dabeyoun, but at this rate you'll soon be as fat as half of those hounds."

She waved her stick at something, but Taren noticed she let the sundered precede her into the grey, flickering as they passed, before she followed them and the doorway vanished. Dabeyoun shook himself vigorously, and trotted forward to stand before Kel, who knelt to greet him with a hand scratching his ruff.

 _That was well handled, Protector. Lady One-Eye's been eaten up with curiosity since you held back those skulls._

"Has she, Dabeyoun? She can hardly be jealous."

The hyena pealed laughter that echoed from the cleaned walls and stood up the hairs on Taren's neck.

 _Can't she? But more than she are intrigued, Protector. And you are weary._ Without warning Dabeyoun leaned forward to lick Kel's forehead. _It is only naming that has drained you, and that burden I can take._

"Yeuch!" Kel glared and mopped herself with a handkerchief, making Dabeyoun grin. "But thank you — that does feel easier. Still, I want food and my bedroll, and I daresay you could do with some food as well. Just not bones, eh? I've had enough of them for one day."

Taren realised he was still kneeling, and rose as Kel did, rubbing her eyes and obviously marshalling thoughts.

"I'm sorry to desert you all, but even with Dabeyoun's aid I really do need food and rest. And I'm sorry to call on ogre endurance, Moriaju, but there's one, no, two things left. Will some of you help Jorvik and Ragnar with the pyre for Hengist Reidarsson, please — use the gate timbers, and I expect Kit or Scamp would be willing to light it — and then clear the underground levels. Who knows what might be down there? None of it will survive tomorrow, so anything worth saving needs to come up and out. I'm thinking of preserved food, mostly, but also metal, cloth, pottery. Waste not, want not. If there's anything you're uncertain about put it to one side. I'll send Agrane and others who know the layout up to guide and assist. Everyone else, as you will, so long as you're not in the way of anyone working. We'll start again at dawn. And I am _out_ of here. Dom?"

They went together, Dabeyoun, Tobe, and Irnai behind them, and Taren looked round to meet a king's wry gaze.

"Do you have any idea how nice it is _not_ to be in charge of anything?" Jonathan stretched an arm around Thayet's shoulders. "Nothing within fifty or sixty miles is our responsibility, love. Let's go eat, and drink a little more than would usually be wise."

Many shared the king's instinct and the evening was mellow, at once exalted with wonders and emotionally exhausted, but while sharply aware of those who grieved not itself grieving — the deaths were long done, souls at peace or soon to be so, and Rathhausakers accompanying sundered conspicuously absent, seeking privacy. Yet the evidence of the children's fates, the sheer number of small skeletons resting in sacks, was a horror, and drew from King Jonathan and General Vanget an account of the vision of Blayce at work the elemental of the Chamber had repeatedly sent Kel, and they had once been shown in light that sprang from Irnai's hands — the Nothing Man adding one more little corpse to his havoc as a killing device woke to struggle upright.

"I had a nightmare or two after that, and what Kel endured Lord Gainel alone knows."

King Lewis nodded, face softened by firelight needed more for comfort than warmth.

"For all the descriptions and the drawing my ambassador sent from Corus, seeing those things was a shock. Will Lady Keladry do anything with them?"

Riding back, they had stopped in the dusk to examine the rusting hulks, two with neat arrowholes punched in their domes, one with a more ragged rent from the spike of a battleaxe. Taren, with Var and Sam, had contemplated steel blades forming a travesty of hands and projecting from limb joints, cogs and pulleys wound with good wire, and welded plates of chest, domes, and jaws, thinking of how that metalwork had been done, at what kind of cost, and wishing Genlith's spirit every torment Irnai wished on Blayce's. When King Jonathan shrugged at King Lewis's question, and no-one had any reply, he sat forward.

"I could offer to melt down the metal, sire, to return to New Hope as ingots, or as Kel will. What happened to others, do you know?"

"It varies, my lord. When they all collapsed at the City of the Gods blades and wire were scavenged, I think, and domes melted to destroy the runes Blayce used. But quite a few are probably rusting where they fell, like these. Would you gather all?"

"I would not be unwilling, sire, that as little as may be of Genlith's treason remains." Taren grimaced. "So much evil effort, and such complexity, yet such crudity too."

"Huh. Lord Wyldon told me Keladry said something like that not long after her return — that for all they could kill the unprepared swiftly and in numbers, their effect was more terror than any true threat as warriors. That she and Mistress Fanche were able to destroy two of those three in as many minutes points the same way. A bit like _berserkir_ , I suppose — if you stay calm you can beat them. It's panic that's fatal."

"What do I know of combat, sire? But that makes sense to me."

"And me, Tar." Var shrugged slightly. "Joren wasn't so different. The fear was worse than the blows themselves."

"Oh yes. Being hunted was worse than being caught." Taren rolled his neck against the memory, and saw Princess Lianne frowning. "If devices are melted, should the giants' bones be removed and interred, somehow, or cremated in the furnace?"

 _Giants do not bury or burn their dead, Taren, nor long remember them for all others can tell._ Kawit lay at the edge of the firelight. _Your thought does you honour, but you need not be concerned on their behalf._

"You could stack them round Joren's effigy, Tar." Var gave an edgy grin as he stared at her, unwillingly amused at the thought. "They're too big for useful paperweights." There were snorts. "I do wonder _how_ they were coated in metal, though. Was that part of the necromancy, an abomination? Or a quite different spell, or a _technique_? It wasn't hammered or welded on, and from what I could see it was completely smooth, even at the joint heads and sockets."

"You'd need to check with her, Lady Varia, but Kel once implied it was a technique. A tank, she said — some sort of bath they were put in that coated them." General Vanget drank from a Scanran quart-pot he was sharing with his brother. "I see why you're interested. If it was just craft, not blasphemy, it could be very useful. But whatever it was went up in smoke with the rest of the keep, so there are no clues left."

"Unless the elemental knows." Taren shrugged as King Jonathan stared at him. "If it saw the children, perhaps it saw the tank."

"Well, that will make for an interesting conversation." King Jonathan sighed, and drank from his own quart-pot shared with Queen Thayet. "And frustration, I bet, but if Numair and Keladry don't object I'll try." He looked round as horses splashed across the ford. "Ah, the funeral's done."

Even before they left the castle Guards and ogres had been reducing the leaves of the gate to baulks, and stacking them into a hollow pyre for Hengist Reidarsson's bones. Those of the Council of Ten had politely declined offers of attendance and witness, and it had been several hours since a distant _whump_ and brief blaze of flame above the trees had signalled a dragon lighting it. Both Kel and Dom had eaten as soon as they had reached the meadow, and long been asleep, Tobe and Irnai tucked beside them and a half-dozen Guards arrayed in solemn and unblinking watch when they ate themselves, King Jonathan had ordered plates taken to the Clanchiefs where they kept vigil as the pyre burned down. Now Taren saw them return clean plates to the cooks, offering thanks, and heard General Vanget's observation of it pitched for Prince Loup. They were all sitting on logs collected during the afternoon while the village was set to rights, and he shifted to make room for Jorvik, Ragnar, and other clanchiefs, Gella groaning and rubbing her back.

"I'm too old for all this, however I'd not miss it. Lady Kel's a wonder, right enough, but somehow everyone always ends up more wrung out than they knew they could be."

As Jorvik and others laughed Taren realised she'd spoken in Scanran and he'd understood every word. Remembering that Prince Roald had taken his pensive wife to a bed in the village, and seeing General Vanget listening to his brother, he hastily offered King Jonathan and Queen Thayet a quiet translation, and saw them smile.

"Thank you, my lord. I catch words but not grammar. My Bazhir's good, and my Carthaki by now, but my Scanran's lagged."

Taren didn't hear it but someone must have said something, for all the Scanrans shifted into Common.

"I gather we have you to thank for the food, Jonathan, and we do."

"You're welcome, Jorvik. All is concluded satisfactorily?"

"Yes. I knew Hengist Reidarsson a little, and wherever he now is he'll be boasting he has been consumed by the fire of _draca_. Should Maggur be with him, the younger brother's lot of mere sunbirds' fire will be rubbed in."

To every mortal's surprise Kawit and all the listening dragons, even Lord Jadewing, found this hysterical, and minds filled with laughter. A chortling Skysong explained that she had lit the pyre as a courtesy, and if a mortal spirit thought that finer than a sunbird-fletched, god-made and -given arrow sent true by the Protector after the greatest dance of the dead in an age he deserved the confusion he felt.

Ragnar frowned. "So Maggur had the greater honour, Lady Skysong?"

 _The more unusual treatment, Ragnar Ragnarsson, but he was specifically exempted from Kel's prayer to the Black God, and burned without his head, with which the Stone Tree Nation was dancing catch._

There was more immortal laughter, but it was not unkind, and Kawit cocked her head.

 _What is more interesting to me is that this brother's soul was not sundered, though he was seemingly murdered and his body dishonoured without mortal rites. Nor was the murder discovered, though probably a kinslaying. The Protector believes gods read the Timeway well and let Maggur run, tolerating even necromancy as they did for the potency with which she ended it, and him. It would speak to their current respect for her. The morrow will not lack for interest._

Everyone could agree with the last, however the rest provoked mortal stares, and Taren found himself considering the croggled look on Prince Loup's face. No-one had said anything about Kel's conversation with the Graveyard Hag, but Taren thought that, despite the wonders the prince had already seen, an actual god appearing and _chatting_ had sunk deep in that corpulent breast. Then again, Lord Dabeyoun's laugh, avid consumption of food, and present repose, with a heap of Hounds inside the circle of Kel's Guards, wouldn't have done any harm, either. But Var had been thinking through Kawit's words.

"Kawit, if you _read the Timeway well_ do you really have a clear picture, or just a good guess about how fragments might add up?"

 _The latter, Varia. Even for Shakith few visions are more than a glimpse — but one brushstroke of a very large picture, if you will. Yet around a decisive moment, or one who will affect the Timeway as the Protector has, and in his way Maggur Reidarsson, brushstrokes will gather. One must seek the patterns, but I am increasingly sure that long before they could put a name to her, older gods saw events that would come with the great roil constellating around a force as yet unborn, and that which would feed those events they let pass when otherwise they might not have been so generous._

"Huh. They saw a Kel-shaped hole in this future?"

 _Indeed. That is a fine phrase, Varia._

"Thank you, Kawit, but I wouldn't mention it to Kel. I doubt she'd be amused by it as an excuse for divine inaction."

There was another gust of immortal laughter.

 _That is no doubt true, Varia._ Kawit's mindvoice was very rich. _But perhaps more reason to tell her than to be silent. She has a splendid line in deferential yet stinging rebukes, from which none are exempt._

"Tell me about it."

Taren wasn't sure who else heard King Jonathan's mutter, but saw the Queen's mouth quirk and King Lewis's gaze rest curiously on his fellow monarch. But wider conversation ended as Lord Jadewing said something to dragons alone that had them all pondering, and the king and queen set off for billets on offer in the village, taking King Lewis and Prince Loup. Princess Lianne said she'd stay a while, and after a moment the king nodded, detaching guards to wait for her. As people rearranged themselves, clanchiefs dropping back into Scanran, she came to sit beside him.

"Your Royal Highness?"

"Just Lianne, please, tonight at least. Gods know titles didn't mean much today."

"They didn't, did they? Except Protector of the Small."

"Yes." She swallowed. "I was struck by what you and Varia said about being hunted, and being caught. I thought of myself being bartered and bargained for, traded, not hunted, and I'd known for years that would happen. Mama never let us keep delusions. So although I didn't much care for the process, ambassadors staring at me as they would a mare they were thinking of buying, I wasn't unhappy. Being caught, though … well, I told you. It was awful, even without what happened to Anna. And I've found myself so angry about it all, seeing what a _fool_ Loup is, what a weak reed, and knowing half of those courtiers I trusted knew it full well and still pushed me to marry him so Papa or Roald would have been drawn in to prop up the House of Barbonne when he inherited."

Taren nodded, having worked that one out a while back. "Yes. That's why Kel was so, um, brusque with them, I'm pretty sure. She didn't appreciate the strategy at all, for you or for herself and New Hope."

"No. Papa didn't either, and says he didn't realise how bad Loup was. There'll be a new ambassador soon. But today … Gods! but it's put what happened to me, and even Anna, into new perspective. What's one swiftly dead friend or a frightened princess to the hundreds who died here? Or to those who had to watch kin gibbeted alive and left to rot for years?"

"I hear you, Your … Lianne, but I don't think it … I'll say works quite like that." Var spoke softly but with some steel in her voice. "Suffering and grief can't well be tallied or weighed. A life taken is a life taken, swift or slow, and that Zerhalm has mourned his wife longer doesn't mean you mourn Anna less."

Taren and Sam both nodded sharply.

"Nor that it was any easier for you to see her spirit than for Zerhalm to see his wife's. And I'll bet your courage then was a model for him today."

"He saw it, Taren?"

"Yes, he was there."

"Oh." There was a meditative silence before Lianne raised her head. "Thank you, Varia, Taren. That's helpful, though I'm not sure why, exactly. In any case, I've decided I'm off the marriage market for a year at least, while I take a long look at myself, and that will produce any amount of screaming back in Corus. I don't care, but it will be loud and dull, so if it gets to be too much might I come to Stone Mountain for a few weeks?"

Taren blinked surprise, mind spinning, but didn't hesitate. "Once I'm back, certainly, though I warn you my mother and aunt will be profoundly shocked, highly delighted, and seriously, ah, well, imaginatively ambitious, I suppose one could say."

"They'll want us courting, you mean?"

"Yes. I can speak to them, but …"

"I understand. Others will think as much too. Shall you mind?"

Taren's thoughts spun into clarity though abruptly widening, and he spoke carefully. "People of all ranks jump to wrong conclusions all the time, Lianne. It's one of the things Kel's been teaching me about, and trying to beat out of me. So that aspect wouldn't bother me at all. But I will not enter into any pretence, by speech or silence. A friend and host, surely and happily, but not a false shield."

Lianne looked at him intently, and nodded. "Fair enough. And I would want no _false_ shield, Taren. But I don't think I know what I do want any more, if I ever did, so I shall go to bed and think about it."

Taren wanted his own bedroll and some quiet to think, but before seeking it he, Sam, and Var went to sit briefly beside a notably silent Piers and Ilane, who smiled at them.

"That was well done, Taren." Piers sighed. "Lianne's grown hard and fast these last weeks, and she's working it through well, I think, but you're being very good with her. And for her."

Ilane nodded. "Yes. And she's right there'll be screaming, but right again to disregard it. Jonathan and Thayet will be having words with some who were pushing Loup."

"So will Kel, I'd imagine, if she gets the chance."

"Oh yes. Others, too. Tell me, though, do you care for Lianne as more than friend and host?"

"I honestly don't know, Ilane. The … presumption had not occurred to me. I like her, and admire her courage, but anything more is too new an idea, and it's not as if either of us has a truly free hand."

"Mmm. Freer than you might think, I fancy, dear. Kel's quietly bent Lianne's ear once or twice, and if anyone got past Jonathan and Thayet to try to push her now I think they'd find themselves in deep water very swiftly." Ilane gave Piers a wry look. "Our Kel has become a fearsome warrior-diplomat, hasn't she just?"

"In spades, my dear, and between Realms as much as nations."

Taren took the opportunity to ask what he'd come to ask. "Has today been very hard for you?"

"I wouldn't say _very_ , Taren dear, but distinctly odd." Ilane and Piers had their own quart-pot, and she sipped, grimacing at potent Scanran beer. "We've known for years that Kel's grown far beyond us, but seeing it writ so very large is always … what's that word Alanna uses?"

"Discombobulating?"

"That's the one. The healers say our backs have discs, don't they? Well, mine are bobulating nicely tonight."

"Mine too, my dear." Piers blew out a reflective breath. "Even animal gods Kel can't name answer her gladly. And she just carries on. But frankly I'm more preoccupied wondering why I hadn't thought about all the things that needed doing today, when I know her Rathhausak report and casualty roll by heart, and was just as well aware that this place has remained deserted because it is thought haunted as well as accursed."

"Ah. I wondered that too, Piers." Taren stretched his legs out. "We knew the souls of the murdered children were safe with the Black God, and so forgot their bodies. And the Scanrans'. But Kel seems to forget very little. And the Graveyard Hag's, um, grumbling had no bite to it that I could hear. For all their seeming delinquencies, I think the gods appreciate thoroughness."

"And efficiency, Tar." Var half-smiled at him. "They don't have staff to sort logistics, which is why they like parsimony, I bet. It's easier."

Sam laughed. "I'll buy that, Var, but they're all agog, too. Melting a castle into a monument makes them blink as much as it does us. Today was hard for many reasons, but I think tomorrow will be better fun."

Piers and Ilane didn't disagree, though both remained meditative, and it was a thought Taren carried into sleep, and vivid dreams filled with stone's persistence and excitement at cleansing change.

He woke before dawn, stiff and slightly chilled, to see Kel pattern dancing, a soft glow from the Staff of Light supplementing false dawn and glinting ruby on her glaive blade. Dabeyoun and the hounds watched, seeming to appreciate pure grace of movement and balance, as he had before and did again. Sam and Var were awake, and at Sam's prodding they rose, secured bedrolls, and set about limbering up themselves by the time they were loose sparring partners were available, and if the clack of staffs and ring of metal at first seemed a violation of tranquility it served as a wake-up call for sluggards, bringing royals and others from the village, and with better light cued Kel to don half-armour and switch to sparring — or her version of it — with an armoured spidren, a rolling clangour of blades moving far too fast for Taren to follow. Other training slowed as mortals watched with open mouths and immortals with intent appreciation that became vocal applause as Kel, pushed hard, pulled off some lightning manoeuvre that had the spidren stumbling to one side and her _katana_ resting an inch before its nose. It was a sterner display than usual, and that it left King Lewis and other experienced men very thoughtful was no coincidence.

Good smells were being generated by busy cooks, and breakfast was far more varied than Taren expected — boosted, he realised, by stores recovered from village or castle cellars : bottled fruit, pickled onions, peppers, and shallots, even slices of smoked and cured meats, a little tough but, the cooks assured everyone, declared free of taint by mortal and magical authority. Some had been fried, and with fresh bread from village ovens there were, if not quite bacon rolls, a very acceptable substitute. There was also a quarry of boar and deer someone — spidrens, and maybe hounds — had taken overnight. Kel ate voraciously, clearly better than she had been the evening before, but was frowning and between bites shook her head.

"How did we miss this meat, Dom? The packhorses were laden, but we could have managed two or three of these cured sides and I'd not have had to agonise about slaughtering any of the horses."

"We cleared out the kitchen, love, and had no time or energy to comb cellars. Zerhalm and Agrane took food from village pantries. Besides, it's come in useful today. Cold game for breakfast palls faster than it once did, I find."

"True enough. But still. I wasn't thinking very well."

Dom almost choked on his roll. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but having made an astonishing assault against all odds, taken out Stenmun and Blayce yourself, and been far more seriously wounded than you were letting on, you sorted our pyre, gave their dead to Barzha, detailed necessary arson while considering _blódbeallár_ , ransacked stable and kitchens, and had more than two hundred children and refugees mounted and moving within two hours — and you're kicking yourself over some smoked meat?"

To Taren's surprise Kel grinned.

"Of course I am, Dom. Who used to tell his men you have to learn from every mistake, whenever you realise it?"

Dom stared at his wife, and after a moment grinned back. "Gah." Kel laughed, and Dom wagged a finger. "Even so. Who wrongly blamed himself for carelessness, and was taught better by you?"

"Low blow, love."

"Truth all the same."

"Maybe."

But Kel's frown had disappeared, and as she finished eating and went to speak to Lord Jadewing and Kawit Taren found himself appreciating both her severe self-judgement and Dom's sensible correction of it. How could one be at once severe on and forgiving of one's younger self? Not being alone seemed the key, whether in the kind of marriage Kel and Dom enjoyed, and Piers and Ilane, or through the unbreakable sibling bonds he had with Sam and Var. Ragnar, eating beside him, cheerfully agreed, and he realised he had come to think of the larger-than-life Scanran as a beneficent version of his Uncle Henchard, just as passionate and fond of booming excess, but equally disciplined, thoughtful, and kind, as his uncle had never been. He spared Ragnar the thought, but amused Sam and Var considerably, and they faced the day as cheerfully as they were refreshed and well fed.

With everyone more or less done eating, Kel stood on a handy table — which must also have come from the village or castle cellars — and hoisted her command voice so all could hear.

"Everyone is welcome today, but two words of warning. First, a _lot_ of stone will be falling, so keep well back, eh? and _don't_ let any of it land on you. Horses must be well picketed, as it'll be noisy. We'll be moving stone around too, so have a care of those working, please. And second, you know we have some sundered as witnesses. Be gentle around those who are their kin — imagine you had _your_ grateful dead with _you_." Taren blinked. "And there will be more witnesses, though I'm not sure who. Lord Jadewing asked Lord Diamondflame to help with reshaping the keep, and he may bring others. Then there are gods, whom I wasn't expecting until the Graveyard Hag suggested the spectacle and some side-business, which as far as I know isn't a mortal concern, will attract them. If so, your consciences are your own, but while I hope they'll be more relaxed than not, do _please_ remember that grovelling irritates them almost as much as disrespect and purely selfish requests. Now let's be about it — that castle has seen far too much, and I want it gone."

Taren enjoyed Neal's muttered 'Only Kel' as well as bemused Gallan looks, but saw Jorvik, Ragnar, and others had learned to take her pronouncements if not quite in their stride then with some equanimity even King Jonathan only quirked an eyebrow at his queen, and Princess Shinkokami looked more resigned than alarmed as she mounted. The sky was cloudless and as they crossed the ford, hounds and Dabeyoun splashing alongside, dragon heads turned up, Taren's following them to see a long spiral of descending shapes. By the time Kel reached the cleared zone Lord Diamondflame was down, offering cheerful greetings, and others were landing, looking about with interest — there being a great deal to see.

Besides Rathhausakers with their sundered, sitting quietly in patterns suggesting the invisible among them, ogres and others had clearly been at work all night and a remarkable amount of stuff had been cleared out. Besides a substantial pile of foodsacks and jars, and another of metal objects — candlesticks, old firejacks and spitroasts, rusty weaponry and armour, dented pewter mugs, the cages and broken chains, and more, some of which Taren did not wish to identify — there was an array of furniture, rickety chairs and dusty screens piled on tables, and a heap of motheaten furs, skins, and bolts of cloth. There was also a collection of curious and disparate things, and as they and others inspected it Var looked up at Ragnar.

"Is that a stuffed bird?"

He peered. "I think so, but what it was when it was alive I haven't a clue." He opened a box, smiled broadly, and tilted it to show them a set of delicately carved ornaments. "These, though, are very fine. The custom lapsed under Maggur, but they are hung at solstices. This is a winter set, quite old. If there is a summer set as good, they will be worth a sum that will surprise Kel. We should do some inventory."

He called Jorvik and the other clanchiefs over, and Taren left them to it, looking at what else was happening. Kel had been conferring with Lord Diamondflame and other dragons, but left Tobe and Their Majesties to introduce King Lewis, heading first for the group of Rathhausakers, to speak to them and, presumably, the watching dead then to some waiting ogres, who at her direction drove in three stakes, on which she perched the skulls she'd held back, hollow eyesockets towards the scene of their worst crimes next to consider the piles of salvage, listen to Jorvik and Ragnar, shake her head, thank them, and ask Ebony to tell Mikal to get a score of heavy carts on their way and finally towards the castle, Lord Jadewing, basilisks, ogres, and mages in tow. Considering the sundered he could not see and the skulls he could, Taren swallowed, feeling his gut tighten, but the day was acquiring the feel of an enormous picnic as people arranged themselves along the eaves of the cleared zone, picketing horses, collecting chairs from the furniture array, and settling in congenial groups cooks and spare hands began to gather deadwood, hounds disposed themselves in sunny spots, Dabeyoun went to sit by the skulls, and a buzz of conversation rose.

He took Sam and Var to pay respects to dragons they knew, seeing mages and basilisks shift into the formation familiar from Aussonne, and was listening to Lady Skysong telling her grandsire (and other dragons, all sharply attentive) about events of yesterday from her unique perspective when the first great rumble began and all turned. Kel had started on the nearest west wall, north of the barbican merlons were already quivering, and as the rock-spell faded the whole swayed forward and pitched to earth — not, as at Aussonne, a double wall with loose fill, but a single, deep structure, laid with headers and stretchers that separated as it fell. No sooner had Numair cleared the dust than Lord Jadewing leaned forward and with a sparkle of his green magic ashlar blocks were picked up in a string and whirled several hundred yards to be set down in neat rows that soon became a square and acquired a second tier. In the meantime basilisks and mages had shifted towards the barbican, but before they could set about it Lord Jadewing looked round at his fellow dragons.

 _This would be swifter, you know, if some of you were to help with moving and stacking. Nightbreath, Moonwind, you were always good at magical catch, and you, Bluecrest._

The great dragon didn't wait for a reply before turning back to the task in hand — or paw — and dragons looked at one another and then at Lord Diamondflame, who, Taren thought, returned his own version of a bland shrug. After a moment the pearly-white dragon Kel had told off on Samradh eve and two others rose to stalk towards castle and stonepile, and as the barbican began to fall, its depth requiring three blasts of the rockspell, ashlar barely reached the ground before being whirled to the pile and stacked neatly. Lord Diamondflame rose slightly to say something Taren didn't hear, but deduced as the pile began to extend horizontally rather than vertically, so mortals could access it for reuse. As he settled again Taren bowed.

"That was kind of you, my lord. A large, low pile will be much easier for those needing it. And you rejoice, I think, at the Protector's care for all she knows."

A large eye regarded him thoughtfully.

 _I do, Taren of Stone Mountain. Has she spent much time with Jadewing?_

"Some, certainly, my lord, though she has had much else to do. Lady Kawit, Lady Skysong, and Lady Icefall have been with him most — they are often together of an evening, on the green with other immortals."

 _Ah. I might have guessed. What have you been speaking of, Skysong?_

The dragonet was perched within the claws of one upturned paw, and her reply was private to her grandsire, listening closely. Taren turned back to see a further section of the west wall, south of the barbican, crash down and whirl away, and slung an arm round Var's shoulders.

"Useful, eh?"

"It's wonderful, Tar, but one can hardly count on having dragon magic and strength available. I do wonder though …"

Lord Diamondflame still being engrossed with Lady Skysong, Var turned the other way and curtsied to Lady Wingstar, also listening but less intently.

 _You would ask something, Varia of Stone Mountain?_

"If I may, my lady, I was wondering if dragons _enjoyed_ helping out like this. I wouldn't presume for the world, but there is _so_ much that needs doing in the mortal realm."

 _We are beginning to agree with darkings that there is a case for doing, rather than observing and talking. But today is art as much as work, and building Drachifethe stirred interests long faded._ Lady Wingstar looked contemplative. _What had you in mind?_

"Well, today's art is mine and Tar's as much as anyone's, my lady, and there will be more memorials of one or another kind. But do you know what Stone Mountain has contracted with the Guild?"

 _Not in detail, Varia. Tell me._

Taren half-listened as Var did, impressed by her clarity about the things basilisks and ogres could do readily and where they might be pressed — notably in stabilising and reshaping the largest spoil-heaps that blighted Stone Mountain's landscape — but also watched Castle Rathhausak steadily disappearing into history as the sun rose towards its zenith, shadows retreated, and interesting smells spread from cooks' fires. He had wondered about the south wall, hard by the swift Pakkai and partly screened by the gaunt bulk of the keep, but Jadewing simply picked up basilisks and mages and deposited them on the far bank before following himself with Lady Moonwind, standing right behind them and _catching_ the ashlar as it fell not one stone splashed into the Pakkai, and all, after bouncing on sheets of dragon magic, whizzed in a great arc to the ever-enlarging pile, where Lady Nightbreath and Lord Bluecrest continued stacking. The east wall followed, ashlar swerving around exposed interior buildings, and stables and latrine block went before the final, north wall, to allow it to fall cleanly. It was still short of noon when the curtain wall was cleared, save its foundations, and after a discussion between Kel, Lord Jadewing, and mages and basilisks, the remaining barracks and hall were summarily despatched, leaving only foundations and keep, before they called a halt for lunch.

While most headed straight for food, Kel detoured to address the three skulls, making Dabeyoun laugh and ogres grin and bow, and from the way she looked aside at seemingly empty space the dead too. A wave at the cooks had one coming to report, and having listened, nodded, and given the man an encouraging clap on the shoulder she headed for Lord Diamondflame, Dabeyoun beside her.

 _Protector._

"My lord. Not knowing how many were coming today, we can't feed you all properly, I'm afraid, but there's a snack on offer, at least — some stew with _wanizame_ , and a dozen or so extra roasts the hounds and spidrens brought in, though you may need to get there first."

 _We do not mind sharing._ Wuodan had come up behind Kel, tongue lolling. _Especially after such a fine morning's entertainment. What was the joke, Dabeyoun?_

 _She told those three accursed that even the shadow of their memory will be scoured from the mortal realm, and their darkness made light, adding to Maggur that his longfathers would know he had caused the unmaking of all they had done. I laughed at the accuracy of her aim, which made for much wailing and recriminating._

 _They listen, then?_

 _They have no choice, Wuodan, but to peer unblinking from the sockets they once had._

Taren shivered at the thought, and even Lord Diamondflame cocked his head a little, but Kel's face was implacable.

 _You pursue them beyond death, Protector?_

"This once, my lord, and not for long." Kel shrugged. "Rank and file I never loathed, and those who only obeyed I forgave long ago. But these three? A nightmare, his dog, and their master." Dabeyoun yipped more amusement. "Even the Black God's judges won't have purged _them_ in only three years. As opportunity offered, I thought a little more humbling wouldn't be amiss. As for myself, well, say that Unferth stirred feelings I don't care for, and I'm purging myself as well as this place. Beyond that, the skulls will go into the memorial, which we should talk about."

Besides Var's sketches, Kel had drawings showing the shape Taren had imagined from every side and in cross-section, with its base and counterweighting sill, and showed intent dragons an exact model Master Geraint had shaped in clay, with a rougher model of how it should sit within the foundation-hole the keep would leave, and the panels that would need to be emplaced. Taren was very pleased with them, Kel had admitted they weren't as bad as she'd feared, and Lord Diamondflame sounded thoughtful.

 _It is a clean and pleasing shape, Protector, and those panels fine. To shape the statues on Drachifethe was only to let memory flow into the stone, but to shape this is an interesting challenge._

Taren dimly sensed the beginning of a far greater exchange between dragons than words allowed, shaking his head as it faded to see Wuodan and Dabeyoun obviously listening and Kel giving him a crooked grin.

"It would be nice, wouldn't it? Then again, I've come to think it a good thing mortals have to use words. Gods know what we'd get up to with _that_ kind of communication. In any case, time for lunch."

Walking beside her, with Sam and Var behind them, Taren risked a question that made him feel awkward.

"I don't mean to pry, Kel, but are the dead alright with you, and you with them?"

"More or less, Tar." She blew out a long breath. "The sundered, it turns out, _blur_ somewhat, with time. After long enough they are mostly just gone. These have had strong purpose, and some aid, I think, but it's still … disconcerting, to say the least, though they're relieved to be doing, at last."

"And Zerhalm? We were worried for him."

"Me too, but there is love and goodwill on both sides, as well as loss, and he and Hertha are reassuring one another, however true consolation is out of reach."

"I am glad, then. And you? How bad is it?"

"I'll be happier when we're done, Tar. But I can't honestly call it that bad. It's just … a reminder, I suppose, of how useless what people call my heroics were for so many."

"And how vital for so many more. Besides, Kel, is there _anyone_ here today, even dragons, whom you haven't saved outright or signally helped? Protected, in a very generous sense?" She stared at him, and he slid the conversation sideways. "Lord Jadewing is pleased to have taken his peers so sharply aback, I fancy."

Her crooked grin returned. "For all his size he's been bullied, Tar, as gentle giants may be. And restriction to the Dragonlands was harder on him than most, I think, besides some educational holes we've been filling in." The grin faded. "But the needlessly, vilely dead, Tar … they hurt. To feel it keenly is one price of being wrongfully alive, and blessed as I have so often and richly been by the Black God. I can't say I'm anything but grateful, but I could do without the edge this place gives it."

"And you're missing the twins."

"That too, but we'll be heading back tomorrow."

She went to speak to royals, and he, Sam, and Var collected plates for cooks to fill, avoided anything with _wanizame_ in it, and wound up sitting between King Lewis and other Gallans, talking in their own tongue on one side, and Piers and Ilane, with Sir Anders, Alanna, and Baron George on the other. Taren's Gallan remained very thin, but it was clear the morning's events had them reimagining what had happened at Aussonne with new clarity, including massed dragons, inducing a certain appalled sympathy for how wildly overmatched Lord Biron and his brothers had found themselves. To Mindelans he gave a quiet account of what Kel had said, and Piers sighed, the others' lips tightening.

"Thank you, Taren. I've spoke with Kel several times about _wrongfully alive_ , but she feels what she feels. It's not so much having been returned herself, all gods be thanked, but that others who died at the same time and in the same way weren't still rankles. I had no answer, and while I can, well, file under gods and gratitude, I suppose, that cuts little ice with Kel."

"Surprise." Taren shrugged. "But we all live with our debts. And she's purging some of them with those skulls."

When Alanna asked, one eyebrow high, he repeated Dabeyoun's remark, and she stared before giving a crooked grin oddly like Kel's.

"Good for Kel. Darkness become light, eh? And shame before his longfathers? Quite right too."

Var leant forward. "She thinks of shadows a lot. In the 'Note' it's the shadow of the gods, and here the shadows of memory. It makes me wonder if she likes the memorial design because it uses its own shadow."

"It's one reason, my lady." Sir Anders spoke softly. "But I suspect that if you have seen the Black God's face, shadows don't look quite the same. Nor light. And for all immortals say Kel rides the Timeway, I believe it presses on her yet. What do I know? But she often says it likes its echoes, and memorials may speak _of_ the past, but they speak _to_ the future."

"Oh yes, Sir Anders. They are warnings, though few heed them. This one, though …" Taren spread his hands. "Who knows quite what it may be? But Kel's made it another form of spiritual warfare."

Var rested a hand on his arm, and Ilane smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Taren dear. I knew there was something I was missing. Against whom, though? Would-be necromancers seems … not enough."

"No. People with castles who suppose power a license to blaspheme, maybe. But I think it's more anyone who sees it, Ilane. Like Drachifethe, it'll linger in the mind."

It did not take adult dragons long to eat what were no more than snacks, though they were careful to strip meat, leaving larger bones for the hounds, and before long Lord Diamondflame and others walked over to inspect foundations that remained and rumble magic at the keep that made its stones briefly glow a greeny-blue. Kel would not hurry Numair and the mages unduly, and ate well herself, but once they were done there was no dawdling, and many spectators followed in her wake, some still finishing stuffed rolls. She now bore the Staff of Light, the ruby sparkling as the sun caught it but seeming more subdued than it had before dawn. How foundations and cellars were to be dealt with Taren had never been sure, but after a few moments' conference mortals stood back, dragons and basilisks positioned themselves on either side of the line of the curtain wall, save those who went to the now enormous pile of ashlar, and dragons hummed a note almost too low to hear that reverberated in Taren's stomach. Spurts of earth shot up here and there, and basilisks added a cacophony that wasn't any rock spell he had ever heard, though it had the same rolling stones and shrieks in it, and made him want to shift and stamp his feet — an effect others clearly felt too. Fingers of Lord Jadewing's green magic dug into the earth and stones began popping free to arc away for catching and stacking.

It was slower business than the morning's work, the wall's foundation stones being more massive, as well as compressed together, but they were no match for dragons. The catchers stacked them in a separate pile, as they did flagstones of courtyard and hall, and stones that had merely been cellar walls came more easily, adding yards to the main pile and leaving behind a pocked and buckled terrain that mortal mages tidied and made safer. Loosened earth provided some fill and sheer sides were collapsed, so while care would still be needed there was nothing anyone could fall into or be trapped in. As Var observed, grass and wildflowers would stabilise raw earth quickly enough — and they might not have to wait that long, for as attention turned to the keep, now as solitary as it was gaunt, silver blossomed in a long line between spectators and dragons, and gods stepped into the world.

Rising from his knees, Taren saw fewer than had been at Aussonne, but Lord Mithros and the Great Goddess were there, a very handsome cat beside them, with Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, Lord Sakuyo, the Graveyard Hag, and what must be Lady Shakith, blind eyes in a hawklike face. Alanna was staring hard, hounds were converging on Lord Weiryn, Daine not far behind, and as Kel walked towards Lord Mithros and the Goddess, face carefully neutral, Taren found his thoughts whirling, for whatever further purpose the High Ones might have, they too were attending the picnic, bringing with them a distinctly festive air. Lord Mithros wore a soldier's tunic but no armour, the Goddess and Green Lady had coronets of summer flowers, and the Hag sported an eyepatch embroidered with a skull and question-mark, while Lord Sakuyo's white robes showed his _kanji_ -portrait spoken by stone in Edo, _jest_ and _tranquility_ making the laughing god, and two other intertwined _kanji_ Taren recognised from Blessed Matsuo's sacred hankie as the monogram of _Sakuyo_ and _Protector_. Those earned a long look from Kel, returned with a cheery wave, before she bowed to them all, and spoke to Lord Mithros and the Goddess.

"My lord, my lady."

"Protector." Lord Mithros's voice was mellow, clashing arms audible but very distant. "Before you ask, my sister Shakith has some interest, as my brother Weiryn for such a change to his lands, my niece of death for those skulls, and my brother Sakuyo for your sense of humour, but we come only to observe. You keep being so very interesting, you see, and for a god novelty is hard to come by."

There was a pregnant pause while gods considered Kel with amused enquiry, and she considered them right back.

"Is it, my lord? How ... odd. I shall bear it in mind." Taren thought Lord Mithros blinked, and Dabeyoun certainly laughed, though neither gods nor Kel took any notice. "In any case, be welcome to what little is left of Castle Rathhausak, however late in the day. I would offer you food, but I'm afraid it was all eaten. And though I would not, of course, ask you to sing for a supper you haven't had, I wonder if it would please you to add your descant to the song of stone to which dragons, basilisks, and mortals both living and dead will give voice."

Taren wasn't sure if Lord Mithros was suppressing a smile or a wince.

"That is well asked, Protector, and we shall. For the rest, I hear you, but consider all you now know. We rejoice today, even as you do, and after longer labour still."

Kel bowed her head. "I know it, my lord, yet yours was never labour in just and pressing despair of the event, cleaving only to the stubborn pride of doomed resistance. As you must harry us beyond our ability to withstand, so we must suffer more than even you know. The Timeway did not rebuke you without reason, my lord, and that reason is gathered here as nowhere else known to me."

"Truth, Protector, and honestly spoken." Lord Mithros was still mellow-voiced, though Taren could see many people staring, slack-jawed. "Almost you counsel us as you do your king, without fear or favour, and we appreciate it, as he does. We come to honour as we can, as well as in witness, and do not stint of grace when we may."

Kel bowed again. "I try to understand, my lord, only doubting what weight mortal loss and grief has in your scales. Do our deaths weigh on you as those of mules on me?" Lord Mithros's face became still. "I do not say or know that it should be so, but if you would have counsel, know that I would never purge my dreams of mules as I will this day of those whose skulls I kept back from the pyre, for I regret the mules every day. And if you will excuse me, we should be about it."

Lord Mithros nodded, face grave, and Kel bowed once more, before smiling at the Goddess, kneeling to stroke the approving cat, and going on to other gods. Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, beset by hounds and daughter, offered simple greetings, Kel asking them to thank the deer and boar gods for their bounty, but the Graveyard Hag was more talkative, accepting a compliment on her jaunty eye-patch with a cackle.

"Playing with skulls is a very promising development, dearie, even if those stakes are a bit unimaginative with giants' bones lying about just down the road."

She laughed at what Taren suspected was a very old-fashioned look, and Kel's voice was cool.

"Alas, I dare say my imagination was used up on other things, my lady, and I do try not to muddle up victims and perpetrators."

"Such scruples you have, dearie, it's quite the collection. There aren't enough left to go round."

Lord Sakuyo grinned. "She's perfectly incorrigible, daughter, so you needn't bother arguing, especially when you could hear me tell you how proud I am instead. Aussonne was altogether splendid, and this is still finer. I must be a better teacher than even I realise."

"What a nice surprise for you, my lord. How's the brush hand?"

"Quite free of cramp despite my Yamanis keeping it so very busy, thank you, daughter. I can use both at once, of course. And I _am_ looking forward to my _kanji_ -house, so marvellously elegant in the middle of nowhere."

"Then your thanks should properly go to Taren and Varia, my lord, and Dabeyoun, who'll find us someone to keep it." Kel's voice softened. "You have mine for the flowers on the girls' graves, though."

"It was my pleasure, daughter. But greet my sister now."

Kel nodded and turned to Lady Shakith, offering a bow.

"Protector." The hawks were far closer than Lord Mithros's clash of arms had been, blind face intent, on the Staff as much as Kel herself. "You please the Timeway as well as all three realms today, and it is as much a beginning as a fulfilment. That staff hungers for its moment, so be about it, and leave me with my daughter."

Staring at gods Taren had missed Irnai's approach, swallowing as Kel bowed, turning away, and Lady Shakith sat cross-legged, welcoming a smiling Irnai to her lap. Alanna was crouched by the Goddess, fingers scratching the cat's ruff, and from odds of information he'd picked up Taren realised it must be not Queenclaw but the erratic constellation who had guided Alanna as page and squire. The temptation to continue watching gods was severe, with Lord Mithros still looking thoughtful, the Goddess gazing at Alanna and the cat with a smile, and Irnai as relaxed as Taren had ever seen her, but _they_ were here to watch Kel, and missing anything would be foolish, so he tore his attention back to the keep. Kel had stopped by the skulls, where Dabeyoun sat, and after a long look exchanged with Lord Diamondflame work began.

A funnel of mortal magic focused the melting spell in a narrow band around the base of the keep, and with dragon magic ensuring no stones strayed the whole structure dropped once, shuddered, dropped again and with a great rumble collapsed into its own cellars and dungeons, dust boiling straight up and being promptly slapped back to earth. Numair arranged mortal magic in a containing dome over the heaped rubble, and basilisks began a far more sustained melting spell, each staggering its pauses to breath so the spell was continuous. Within seconds heaped rubble was quivering, and the top of the pile soon began to sink, but after a moment Lord Jadewing looked round.

 _Diamondflame, if you add to Numair's containment, I will boost the basilisks' spell. Kawit and I have worked out how to use my strength to do so. It is useful._

There was again what Taren thought a degree of shock among other dragons, though Lord Diamondflame only nodded.

 _That is commendable, Jadewing_.

The magic keeping the basilisks' rolling spell where it ought to be visibly thickened, and with obvious concentration Lord Jadewing sent a thin streamer of green magic to twine through the basilisks' focused sound and spread over the pile, becoming after a moment a rising flood of green. The volume of the basilisks' spell increased sharply, the ground vibrating under Taren's feet, and the pile slumped, some stones bobbing briefly like dry wood in water before sinking into what became a bulging surface as more dragons extended magic and a great ball of melted stone began to rise. Tendrils trailed from it — or rather climbed into it, the last of what had been foundations rising from the gaping hole to swell the mass. The basilisks fell silent, some standing aside to clear the way between the ball of stone and Kel, still by the three skulls some fifty yards back, and the ball changed shape, enlarging slightly and developing a hollow that deepened and widened, gaping towards Kel like a mouth. All the dragons were breathing deeply, but there was no obvious strain in Lord Diamondflame's mindvoice.

 _As you will, Protector._

"Thank you, my lord, and all. Now, then." Kel turned to stand in front of the skulls, and her voice rang in the air, carrying a purer scorn than Taren had ever heard. Hairs on his neck and arms stood up.

"As I was the last sight each of you had in life, so I am again. Now as clanless as you are dead, nothing any of you desired will remain, even your shadows made light. And by my request and the grace of Lord Gainel, none you harmed shall ever dream of you again, neither mortal nor immortal, child nor adult, man nor woman. Even the darkness forgets you utterly, and so your evil follows you from this realm for ever."

She lifted Blayce's skull from its stake.

"By the power of others you were let as a _nicor_ , but to me you were always the Nothing Man, as weak in mind and shrivelled in soul as you were vile in selfish purpose, and to less than nothing you are come. Blayce Younger, know oblivion now and always as your just reward."

Hooking her fingers into the hole that had once perched on Blayce's spine, Kel took a single quick step and bowled his skull in a high arc to vanish into the waiting stone mouth. Molten stone and Firestone pulsed as she turned back to lift Stenmun's skull, jabbing a finger into the circular hole in his forehead.

"Now _there's_ a death-blow I have no regrets about giving. You didn't lack courage, only judgement, kindness, and conscience, and your loyalty to your paymaster was not extended to those you paid. Scornful in life of gods and kin alike, you are repaid a thousandfold in death, and you too are in all justice come to less than nothing. Stenmun Kinless, your son does not nor ever will know your name."

How Kel could say that Taren had no idea, but Scanran eyes were bright and fierce as Stenmun's skull followed Blayce's, and he saw Queen Barzha and all stormwings — forced to the nearest trees by the loss of the curtain wall — follow its trajectory with avid gazes that swung back to Kel as grey stone and ruby pulsed again. She lifted Maggur's skull with fingertips resting in stormwing gouges.

"And then there is you, purblind with greedy ambition and stupid to the last, whose every effort was as misconceived as it was selfish, vile, and blasphemous. Your clan died with you, the clanhome of your longfathers is razed as it had never been, the nation you ruled flourishes with your loss, and none can be bothered to take the throne you craved and abused. Maggur Reidarsson, kindless, faithless, trustless, and witless, you should have stuck to grinding corn."

As a king's skull arced towards stone terrible laughter followed it, the Hag's and stormwing cackles threaded by Dabeyoun's unnerving peal, celebrating jest and justice alike, and rising above all, as stone pulsed a third time, a booming thunder that could only be Lord Sakuyo but Kel was still until it faded, and her voice again rang across the field.

"My lords and ladies, and High Ones if you will, I pray you purge now that stone of the guilt and witness forced on it, and let it rejoice with light in its new form."

Lord Diamondflame inclined his head. _Protector, we will, and gladly_.

Denser magic wrapped the stone and fire flooded from all dragons to sink into the molten mass as gods walked forward to stand between them. Like all mortals Taren had to squint, raising a hand to shield eyes from light and heat, sensing as much as seeing stone redden, shading through orange towards white. Streamers of silver came from all seven gods, twining around the almost incandescent sphere in writhing lines and compressing it as they too sank in, as you might squeeze clay with a hand. As it shrank it became brighter still, a pulsing whiteness like a silver sun that for one fleeting moment had the shape of a jawless skull before immensity of light forbade further vision. For three thudding heartbeats Taren could see through eyelids the bones of his hands before his face, hearing his own harsh breaths, then gods spoke together, more of Lord Sakuyo's laughter thundering above that distant fury of battle, belling hounds, and screaming hawks. What the words might be or mean Taren had no clue, but light pulsed, once and again, before the top of the ball opened to allow a great beam of burning air to shoot up and stone began to expand again, seeking its new shape.

The rectangular base came first, smaller than the area the keep had occupied, and spikes to anchor it rayed from its underside before it sank into the exact centre of the foundation hole and settled to a grinding halt. Slim arches of stone grew from east and west sides to form elegant bridges over the marginal space left, rooting themselves in the ground beyond, while from north and south sides the counterweighting sill on which the projected images of the panels would fall, and the shape Taren had imagined, began to form. The sill stayed broad, dense, and low, its angled upper surface no higher than his waist, but the folded slice of cone grew and grew, slimming as it widened, reaching up in pure geometry and silently folding to the exactly correct angle as the spaces for the panels opened like a row of windows and sunlight came through to paint squares on the sill below. Above the fold it expanded yet further, extending the clean lines to a tapered edge fifty feet above the ground, and the magic shifted purpose, drawing heat out to dissipate in the sky as basilisks came forward and the roar of the setting spell began to solidify base and bridges, sill and the lower section of the geometry. The rock spell was also at work, Taren realised, petrifying the sides of the foundation hole into a stone chasm and once that was done, the last stage was to lift Var'istaan and others to set the uppermost section, and emplace the panels before stone closed around them, projected colours arrayed on the sill. Basilisks returned to earth, the gods' silver and many colours of dragon magic withdrew, silence returned, and he took the first breath he could remember in a while, finding Var's hand in his and contemplating what they had helped to bring into being.

Kel had rightly said keep and castle were built of the same limestone found at New Hope, and in his imagination the memorial had always had its light but impure colour and rough texture, but what stood before him gleamed, as smooth as finest silk not limestone but marble, damascened silver-on-white, and against it the colours of the panels and their projections blazed, vibrant and intense. In the final panel, which showed the memorial itself, echoing Lord Sakuyo's recursive painting in the Edoan temple, the openings for the panels were blank, holes without rockice or colour, and through them, amid all the hues around, twelve narrow fingers of sunlight rayed down to glitter golden on the silvery sill. He sighed pleasure, and his hand tightened on Var's as Kel shook herself out of her own contemplation, bowing low to gods and dragons.

"My lords and ladies, High Ones, and all who have made this possible, mortal and immortal, my deepest thanks, for myself, for New Hope, and for the guiltless dead. All are honoured, and light rejoices with the Timeway." She turned, holding the Staff of Light aloft with a ruby glint, and her voice held that strange edge, though as quiet order rather than harsh command. "Come, all you dead safe in memory, as now in stone, come with your living to pass through the honour mortals, immortals, and gods have done you, and let them farewell you to your long-denied rest."

All eyes followed the living as they came slowly to Kel, faces calm though cheeks were wet, and followed her towards the memorial, curving around to come to the eastern bridge. Gods and dragons were intent as Kel walked up its slight rise, Zerhalm behind her, and descended again to the base, turning to look up at the first panel, showing Rathhausak in its innocence, and raising the Staff so the panel's projection fell on it. Light flared dazzlingly, reddening marble, and instinctively turning his head away Taren saw that the gods too glimmered strangely, their Staff-light shadows far larger than their visible bodies should cast but his attention was drawn back, breath hitching, for the dead were also illuminated, Hertha etched in light beside Zerhalm, a well-built, bearded man between the elderly couple, and others, male and female, beside their kin. What Kel had meant by blurred was immediately obvious, for outlines were frayed, faces and fingers indistinct, clothing shapeless and grey — yet even as he watched they were sharpening, colour washing back into skirts, hair, and skin, detail reappearing, and features emerging as from fog or mist. The dead also seemed to stand taller, movements crisper and faces turned up slightly as they drank in the light. Kel had turned from the panel to consider them, and her smile was numinous, another joy to behold.

"As the Staff is dedicated to honest dealing and clarity, so by its light you are seen truly, and as the memorial preserves your memories, so through it the Staff can restore your wholeness. Your deaths were unjust and cannot be undone, but the other losses you have sustained are made good, and you are come home to find the Black God's mercy infinite. Follow me now, and end your journey with all love and blessing."

Taren's eyes were damp, for they had never been her responsibility, dead before she rescued their kin, yet she had taken them as her own and cared for them even in death. She walked on to the second panel, then the third, and as the tale they told darkened, with Maggur's assignment of Stenmun and Blayce and the horrors they brought and made, the Stafflight darkened too even as it intensified, becoming blood-hued and, though never ugly, disturbing at a visceral level. By the sixth panel, showing a complete killing device standing by a dead child, it also had an irregular pulse, flickering on surfaces and mottling Kel as much as the dead and their living kin. She seemed to look at it closely for a moment, searching for something before shrugging with what Taren thought was mostly satisfaction, and he wondered if she had sought any indication of Chaos but found none. But the thought was swept from his mind as she crossed the centre and came to the seventh panel, the first showing her, for in its light the Staff again flared dazzlingly, making her shadow stretch to the feet of watching gods and dragons, and panel by remaining panel the darkness and blood-hues retreated, erased by vibrant colour and shimmering grace. With the eleventh panel, showing Maggur's defeat and death at New Hope, all the beauty of fire danced from the Staff, yellows, oranges, reds, and blazing white, as he had seen pour from dragons, and he heard their humming appreciation. Then Kel went to the last, and as the fingers of ordinary sunlight met the Firestone even the air seemed to join the glory and shadow evaporated as all shone.

For a moment Kel stood there, Staff held high, seeming to draw in light as the dead had then she turned to the western bridge and Taren again felt his breath hitch as his and Var's mutual grip tightened, for at its end, beyond the memorial, a great archway rimmed in silver stood, and it was for once not filled with that grey swirl. The Black God stood beside it, and Lady Shakith's hawk-scream rang out, but it was not the gods that had Taren's heart thudding and aching in a body that suddenly felt hollow, for the archway was filled with figures — some he thought Rathhausakers, villagers in coarse woollens and linens, others who might be Tortallan refugees, in better but still rough clothing, a group of men in army maroon, a great warhorse, dogs with wagging tails, but above all children in their hundreds, some as old as Var, some barely able to walk, most looking between six and twelve, and all momently solemn as they regarded Kel and bowed to her, most with hands over hearts in the Scanran manner. Ruby light glittered on her tears as she bowed back with a grace so fluid and controlled Taren could not stop a sigh of wonder, then opened her arms to them as if she would embrace all to offer apology and comfort, sorrow and rue and relief, joy and safety.

How long it truly was Taren never knew for time seemed oddly suspended, rushing past somewhere else but barely moving at all where Kel stood, her gaze seeking every individual, those she must have known and those she could not have done, lingering longest on the men in maroon and some of the Tortallan civilians, but ever moving on to another and every gaze was returned with smiles and nods, and from the children often a shy wave drawing smiles from Kel, at first grave but slowly more open as a great burden was eased and there could be as little sorrow as there was shadow. At last she was done, and with a final bow to her forgiving dead she stood aside to clear the way to the bridge. The no longer sundered began to move, nodding to kin in farewell, bowing to Kel as they passed her and _smiling_ , benediction and release, before crossing the bridge to greet and be greeted by those they had known, and (Taren would later swear) thank those newmet who had died seeking to rescue their fellows. He had thought of the pain the living must endure at this strange second parting, not of the wait those safely with the Black God had suffered, but now children ran to parents and siblings, aunts and uncles, and they to children, clutching one another with open joy and tears of happiness. With the last soul across the bridge the scene grew less distinct, light beginning to fade, and Kel turned to bow deeply to the Black God, receiving a slow nod of approval and a hand raised in blessing and farewell before he stepped thought the archway and it vanished behind him. Tension drained away, and Taren found himself again breathing ordinary air in ordinary light, but knowing the world transformed.

With a deep breath Kel crossed the bridge herself, passing without a tremor where the way to the Peaceful Realm had stood open, even as she had once before, and circled to stand once more before the gods, and again bow deeply, addressing Lord Mithros.

"You have my most heartfelt thanks, my lord, and all High Ones, for that grace, and I pray you will convey them to your brother of death. The wrong done and suffered here was deep and long, but truly you have not stinted in your blessings today."

Taren couldn't say Lord Mithros bowed back, but he certainly inclined his head, and he was smiling.

"We too know sorrow, Protector, if not despair, and you earn your blessings the hard way, many times over." Something flickered in the god's face, that might have been amusement or mischief. "And as you did not seem much to care about holding the record for fastest siege, perhaps you might be better pleased to know you set a new and high mark in care of the wrongfully sundered. Many have held and hold the second grace of my brother of death, granted you at Aussonne, for as you know well he must ever be elsewhere, yet none has ever so sent them to their rest, so healed, and so remembered. That staff has absorbed power from more than sunbirds."

"I know it, my lord." Suddenly Kel grinned. "And you know it's been exposed to enough with the spellcasting we get up to learning to combine magics. Would I be right to think the Timeway has also lent it power?"

"You would, Protector." Lady Shakith cocked her head, hawk-fashion, blind eyes seeming to stare. "It was prophesied long ago, and the Timeway remembers, but it is your will that has shaped its purpose. It lit all three realms today even as you deal with them, honestly to a fault, and as generously, to your limits and beyond. And it will do so again, more than once, while your line runs true."

Kel's face was grave, and she nodded. "Long and longer may it do so then, my lady. And redundant as they may be, you have my thanks on Irnai's behalf."

"You care for my daughter well, and she flourishes in your love. I shall not leave her as she grows."

Kel nodded again. "Good to know, my lady."

Beyond Lady Shakith the Graveyard Hag gave one of her sniffs.

"Oh the sentiment's just _oozing_." She shook her head and her stick. "Even Da, you realise, dearie. You've got him going soft in his old age."

Taren couldn't see Kel's face, turned to the Hag, but he could imagine an eyebrow rising.

"Have I, my lady? You should know. But I do believe I'd rather he grew old in a softer age."

After a long moment Kel reached into a pocket, and offered the Hag a hankie. Lord Sakuyo looked joyous as a divine nose was loudly blown.

"Now you've got me at it, dearie. You'll be selling me on another of your wretched scruples next."

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Come and look at the memorial instead? High Ones?"

"Lead on, daughter." Lord Sakuyo stepped forward to take Kel's arm, laughing only as a mortal might as the Hag stomped off, cane thumping the ground, and they followed with other gods behind. His voice was a murmur meant to carry. "Perhaps she's more corrigible than I thought. And my estimation of myself as your teacher is rising all the time."

The Hag's stick thumped harder than ever.

"It's delightful how two and two do so often make eleventy-three around you, my lord. And I've been meaning to ask you how you'd translate my little joke about His Nibs into Yamani. Keichii- _sensei_ was quite stumped, for His Brushtips really won't do. I do know sable's best, but acceptable calligraphy must be possible with those metal pens the Carthakis have started making. Might you encourage someone to try, so at least there _is_ a Yamani word for _nib_?"

What Lord Sakuyo replied Taren never did know, for Alanna had followed the gods, a purring constellation on her shoulder, and King Jonathan swept after her, Queen Thayet on his arm and his children in tow, with Clanchiefs behind him and King Lewis trailing them, one arm firmly around his son's shoulders. Dom, Tobe, and others of the twenty-nine were also moving, and though no-one was talking an orderly line began to form, allowing gods time to consider each panel and its projection but crossing the eastern bridge as soon as space allowed. Taren, Sam, and Var inserted themselves behind General Vanget and Lord Ferghal, and whatever else Kel and the gods might have had to say to one another was private, but they did see Lord Weiryn rest a hand on Kel's shoulder and the Green Lady embrace her briefly. Lord Sakuyo also took her free hand for a long moment, smiling and saying something that made Kel's face soften before Lords Mithros and Diamondflame nodded at one another, silver flared, and the gods were gone — though the constellation remained on Alanna's shoulder while she, Wuodan, and Dabeyoun conferred.

The departure set off mortal and immortal conversation, and though everyone was speaking softly the collective murmuring of wonder, grace, and geometry made it hard to hear anyone more than a few feet away. Taren didn't mind, absorbed by the experience of the memorial and slightly hazy with euphoria and emotional exhaustion, as all were Chief Gella had been spot on about that. He was also trying to absorb the song of the Staff of Light, and the place of his uncertain impulse to give the Firestone to the Guild in the fulfilment — partly, at least — of ancient prophecy. He didn't think one could say his father had walked with the gods, however they might have watched a man striding astray and said nothing, but he had himself been doing so well before he had had any inkling of it as Kel had done, in far greater measure. Reassessing memories where you had missed significance was galling as well as disconcerting, and he thought more kindly of Princess Shinkokami than for a while, until it occurred to him that he _hadn't_ missed it completely, just not known what he heeded, and seeing her with Prince Roald slowly walking around the memorial, after passing out over the western bridge, he joined them and offered her the thought.

The conversation took a while, because there were moments she recalled that might fit such a bill, and Kel's most recent exchange with Lord Mithros, with the grace that had poured forth despite it, had once again induced in her some very conflicting emotions. Prince Roald was not unsympathetic, but very struck by the idea that Kel counselled gods as she did her king, speaking truth to power, and as amused as bemused that she had offered the Graveyard Hag a hankie. That whole motif needed canvassing too, drawing in a dazed Blessed Matsuo, and Taren had a strong sense of the echoing patterns of comfort offered, as he had often staunched Var's tears of sorrow and blown her nose in his faint echo of Kel's far greater Protectorship, and Lord Sakuyo had staunched _her_ tears of joy and blown her nose after cathartic laughter.

With the sun westering, shadows lengthening but colours still raying from the panels, the visiting dragons departed, offering a general farewell and Kel warm thanks for some very interesting exercise, with many congratulations on once again commanding the fullest attention of three realms. She tracked them for a moment as they spiralled up, before dropping her gaze and shaking her head at Lord Jadewing.

"You know, my lord, thanking me for asking for hard and often rather menial exercise is one of Diamondflame's sillier notions."

 _Oh, I don't know, Protector. It_ was _interesting, and exercise does us no more harm than it does the hounds. He was thanking you for your continuing education of the defeated Isolationists also. And it has caused much to happen we must all think on._

"Well, that's true enough, my lord, and more than I was expecting. But we don't need to do it here and now." Her voice rose across the field once more. "As all of you and the fires are already here, Your Majesties, everyone, so is supper. We can watch the sun set over the memorial and find out what if any light of its own it might have. And how you celebrate the pure grace afforded us this day is your own business, but know we'll be on the road very soon after dawn because the only thing left now is for everyone else to go home too."


	54. Chapter 55

Chapter 11: Chapter Ten - The Guildmasters' Conference Chapter Text

 **Ten : The Guildmasters' Conference**

 _Corus, December 464 HE_

WAITING by the city gate with Sam, Taren was aware of the guards' curiosity but was looking forward to their reactions too much to enlighten them. He had told them, truthfully, that their sister was travelling south with Countess Keladry, and having been parted from her for so long they were eager to see her again and when the sergeant cautiously asked if it was true that Lady Varia had become an apprentice of the Craftsbeings' Guild, he had cheerfully confirmed it, adding with Sam a lengthy description of her apprentice project. He just hadn't said anything about who else was travelling with Kel.

Nor had he shown them the beauty of the completed _kanji_ -house, as he might have done. The night before he and Sam had left New Hope, just after Sam turned eighteen, with all of them very conscious that when Var was working in Scanra, and they were back at Stone Mountain, they would be beyond the range of their small spellmirrors, Kel had shocked them all speechless by asking if they would each accept the care and education of a darking.

"There's a fine line to tread", she had said, after introducing them to Petal, Blue, and Silk. "They'll tell you darkings know all darkings know, which is true, but when the knowledge is from sharing alone it has not always been quite understood. Having the knowledge — or having access to it, and I've never been sure which it is — seems to be a bit like having a library, which is wonderful but still needs reading. And as they do that, they have questions, and change as understanding accumulates. Now, quite what maturing means for a darking is moot, as there isn't one older than thirteen and Ozorne just wanted their spying abilities, but there does seem to be an increasing ability to share more fully and more, um, usefully annotated experiences, and I suspect that individual and collective growth, while closely linked, will prove distinct."

Taren still remembered his chagrin at not having seen it before, for after weeks at New Hope he knew perfectly well that darkings had been created by Ozorne during his brief time as a stormwing, in 451–2, but had never thought through the implications of being a new kind of immortal, nor seen that Kel's recruitment of them to the Guild was a way of undoing Ozorne's evil, much as she sought to undo Maggur's.

"So there are some interesting questions", she had continued. "These three and a dozen or so more, among the oldest who came, are ready for a further step, and they all asked about you particularly because they think memorials are fun."

"Fun!" Blue had agreed, nodding its tiny head vigorously. "Beautiful. Useful. Fun."

Those weren't Taren's first choice of adjectives but he couldn't disagree, and Kel had laughed.

"I know. I should do a darking memorial tea-house." Taren couldn't stop a smile. "Just remember it's an all-purpose term of approval. Anyway, from your point-of-view, besides contact with Var, it will let us keep in touch even when I'm away from New Hope's spellmirrors, and give you a means of seeking Barzha's advice if you need it. Or Quenuresh's, or Var'istaan's. And from my point-of-view, your various plans offer an opportunity. Var will be doing something new with a pilgrim path and architecture, and you're off to new places, including several I've never seen, nor any darking, so you'll be adding to their experience. They're also curious about overlordship, Tar, and how fiefs other than New Hope work, and for their own safety as well as the Guild's purposes it would be good to further their knowledge of Tortall and its people. But this is where it gets tricky. I've told you about needing to keep the king's greedy hands off, and making it clear darkings' business is communication, not spying, but there's more and worse than Jonathan who'll cast covetous eyes. And because they're small, and in themselves vulnerable, some will be tempted to try darkingnapping, even though the whole point is that any darking can tell every other darking exactly where it is. I don't want to have to stage any rescues, though, so while it'll be your calls, I'll ask all of you to be wary about whom you allow to know you have a darking with you. The temptation is to use them to show things, as you did, Tar, rightly, with Jorvik and Ragnar, and there would be nothing wrong with letting your mother and aunt see some of the things you've seen. Nor your father, come to that, and if you do I'd appreciate the tale. But think twice and again before showing others, eh? Need, certainly, and true occasion, but nothing much idler."

Then she had both grinned and shrugged.

"And yet the whole point is to get people used to them, and thinking about them as beings with a great deal to offer, not tools or servants. Still, caution is wiser for a while yet, I think. The Guild managers will take some when they're done training, but that's a more official assignment, and though good geographically, more limited in that they'll all be doing much the same thing. Mindelan doesn't need more just now, though in a while quite a few will go there to work with the fishing and trade fleets. Ferghal and Vanget have one each, as do Jorvik and Ragnar, but those are for pressing political reasons as well as my own ends. Yuki has one so she can be available about pickles if needed, and Neal and Baird, to learn healing, so wherever there's a darking there should also be real medical knowledge. And I shall try to press one on Wyldon if I ever see the dratted man. But I'll be very happy to know you three have one each."

Keenly conscious of honour, trust, and boon, they had faced a sharp learning curve in discovering what was and wasn't practical. Letters read by darking display were a great deal faster than trying to relay long and complex speech, and questions darkings asked were often disconcerting, exposing mortal assumptions as much as gaps in their own understanding, but for all of them nightly sight and news of one another was a great blessing and darkings could show directly what letters could only describe, so he and Sam had, on their travels and after returning to Stone Mountain in late September, seen Var's designs unfold in reality.

With the girls' graves she had stuck strictly to her minimal Pilgrims' Path, but given what the path was to lead to, wayhouses and even latrine blocks had along its way shifted from Tortallan-inflected to Yamani-inflected design, though always within a style that proclaimed Guild architecture. Natural beauty was taken advantage of, not interfered with, so the situations of wayhouses and views from their messhalls and terraces were often enchanting, and where greater intervention was called for it too was always aesthetic as well as functional. At the steep sill the path forked and two elegant rock ramps angled up to meet at a natural perron, allowing faster and more winded pilgrims not to inconvenience one another and the climb to the hanging valley had stayed where it was with the steeper section given shallow steps — which made a cutting unavoidable, but also meant that the view of the _kanji_ -house as you reached the top was a sudden and moving revelation.

Master Geraint had supervised construction, and despite his hair-tearing Var had insisted its shape must be that of a brush-drawn character, meaning tapering widths and the slight thickening and flourish at the ends of strokes. What persuaded him in the end was the additional window frontage it gave the messhall, facing the waterfall and the rainbows spray frequently offered, but once it was done he'd openly praised Var's vision and agreed the extra trouble was not only worth it but superbly right. On the ground it lent a subtle oddity and power to the clean lines of basilisk-cut ashlar, and from the top of the climb to the hanging valley it made the whole, despite its radical oddity, seem more natural than artificial — a notion both Var and Lord Sakuyo had helped along by providing turfed rooves that, during the night after Kel dedicated the building (on Var's sixteenth birthday), became covered in tiny white flowers that seemed to take no notice whatever of the season. The _kanji_ — and all it represented — stood out in silvery white against the lush greens of grass profiting from the waterfall, framed by flowerbeds and scrub trees, and at the viewing-place a neatly carved and petrified sign (on which Var also insisted) explained what _sui_ meant in Tortallan, Scanran, and Common, attributing the inspiration to Lord Taren of Stone Mountain. He had tried his best to dissuade Var, who only smiled irritatingly, and Kel had been no help at all, saying credit was due where it was due, and truth always the wiser course.

As Stone Mountain had been calling, he and Sam had not dawdled on their travels — visiting Mindelan and Frasrlund before heading west, via a last meeting with Var and Kel at Dragonstown, to a day in the City of the Gods, relaying events at Rathhausak in a deepening silence a week in haMinchi lands, getting to know Lord Ferghal better and encountering a vastly improved Prince Loup and a passage down the Drell as swift as stopping at each fief and chartered independent settlement allowed. They had been home by the time of the dedication, and Taren had had to explain his idea to his avid mother and Aunt Lily, as well as an intrigued Svein. That in turn had meant explaining what the memorial to the girls was about in the first place, and the decision to ask Blue and Silk to show what Unferth had wrought, how he had died, and the grace that had poured from Kel's hands marked a new understanding in how double-edged the potency of darking witness could be. Both women had prospered, in the absence of his father and uncle, and in Svein's courteous care, and were immeasurably stronger than he had left them but seeing what he and Sam had seen both went alarmingly white, shocked nausea battling shocked wonder. Yet with a little time to digest it, they had been grateful for what they called his trust — another poser — and that experience, with sight of Drachifethe and the divine manifestations at New Hope, Aussonne, and Rathhausak, had made them fervent supporters of his plans for a _substantial_ new temple.

With Svein, in private, he had been able to speak of things he had not told the women, including his deep ambivalence about his sense of having so often only tagged along, doing nothing, and received unexpected assurances that everyone starting out felt some version of that. Svein was also full of probing and very thought-provoking questions, not so much about gods or dragons, though they figured, as about Lord Biron, the pressure on Princess Lianne to marry Prince Loup as a safeguard for commercial and other interests the prince's former idiocy would have imperilled, and the extent of the education Kel had forcibly provided to King Lewis and his chosen advisors. The business of side-channels and the Vassa and Drell trades also intrigued him, and as Hannalof had legitimate interests in the latter Taren was happy to answer all he could, while pointing out that Erde and Ortien had fuller briefs, so Hannalof himself should be up to date. The meeting also gave him a chance to present the centaur-made saddle, with his profound thanks for all Svein had done, only to find himself not only thanked in turn but considered with a gravity that was almost unnerving.

"You know, my lord, I've enjoyed this assignment, and learned more than I expected, which is always welcome, and some of it very useful besides. But I confess I rather thought you were just finding your feet and clearing some slates. Now, though, I begin to wonder if allowing you the freedom to sojourn at New Hope wasn't the very best service I could possibly have offered Tortall." Taren had received a crooked grin. "If you haven't noticed it yet, Lady Kel's teaching seems to have included the inspiration of loyalty. Or perhaps she just makes us mortals grow as swiftly as she does immortals."

Taren had had no answer, but carried the thought with him when, after some mulling, he had in late October gone to visit his father at the hunting lodge high on wooded slopes that Lords of Stone Mountain had always kept as a family chase. His note of warning had provoked an immediate reply, observing curtly that Lord Burchard had not retreated in order to be disturbed, and his arrival had been greeted with angry disdain for his disregard of orders slightly numb with dismay and thoroughly irritated, but banking both with an effort, he had dismounted, politely dismissed his escort and the two older servants who had been willing to see to his father's needs, and faced the man who had so cruelly shaped his life.

"Sir, in so far as a son owes a father respect and obedience, I try to offer them. But when the Lord of Stone Mountain is charged to deliver a message to Lord Burchard, he will do so, whatever Lord Burchard thinks he wants."

His tone actually produced a flicker of grudging approval, for Lords of Stone Mountain were not to be gainsaid, but it was followed by words that slid towards a sneer.

"There is no-one I want to hear from."

"Even Lord Mithros?" And before his father could react Taren had started the gods' circle. "I, Taren of Stone Mountain, do swear by all gods that I have spoken to Lord Mithros, and from his own lips heard the words _and tell your father that …_ "

As he completed the gesture chimes had rung, sweet and clear, and for his father loud enough to have him clapping hands to ears, though Taren had not been inconvenienced, and murmured appreciative thanks.

"Now, I could just tell you what Lord Mithros said, and if you continue so foolishly I might, but without context that would be neither kind nor helpful, which the High One was being, in a godly sort of a way. So let's go somewhere comfortable, and I'll bring you a bit more up to date about what the gods have been doing while you pray and stew here."

And so he had, with Blue's willing aid — a preamble about seeking Kel's countenance as advised, and some views of New Hope that had his father frowning, before focusing on the major manifestations. Unferth had his use, for that image twisted Burchard's face with horror before he stared at the Black God's grace as a baby might a breast while Aussonne had Taren speaking into a shocked hush, even when he relayed Lord Mithros's message, that making the memorial and the vouchsafe of the dead children's contentment offered to Kel only deepened. When he was done he had sat back, reclaiming Blue, and considered his father.

"So, as you see, sir, I have heeded your last command, and learned to walk with the gods — who are not as you and many suppose them. And you learn further that Lord Mithros neither abandons you nor despairs of your improvement. Your prayers and conscience are your own, and in the matter of quality and quantity I take no action. In the matter of actions and words, however, I find I agree with the High One that occupying a superior hermitage is insufficient, and it is my command that you seriously consider what else you might do that the gods would find worthier. In the meanwhile, I require of you two things that will help you to focus. The first is that you resume proper weapons training, a half-hour morning and evening, and I will station a guard here as a sparring partner, rotating the appointment so you may both practice familiar and learn new weapons. You remain a knight of Tortall, and but for Countess Keladry's astonishing intervention Lord Biron's stupidity would have landed us in a Gallan war, so you will live up to that status however you have abandoned all other. And the second is that while you dwell here you will, for one day a week, engage, in scrupulous courtesy, with the foresters, huntsmen, and kennelmasters who maintain this chase, and send me a quarterly report on how it fares and anything that needs my attention. Your word on both, sir, now."

How much had been shock and how much genuine acquiescence Taren still wasn't sure, but the word was given, and his father's pride would hold him to it. He had taken a certain pleasure in including among the rotating guards some of Vesker's men, skilled after New Hope with slings and staff, and learning the glaive there was also considerably more happening at the kennels than his father would have expected, for the project to breed scenthounds for mine rescue was underway, with Lords Wyldon, Dagal of Lisbethan, and others contributing stock and keenly interested in results. If their letters to Lord Burchard had occasioned further surprise, they nevertheless put him in renewed contact with men most would call conservative, and even he would acknowledge as peers. Sam had clapped his shoulder, better pleased he had got through the meeting than anything else, but when he had told Var, holding up a letter for Petal to show her, Silk had squeaked from Sam's shoulder that _Var say, Kel teach well_ and that had pleased him better, for he was indeed attempting the redemption she had made him believe possible.

For his uncle there would be none. Denial of alcohol had reduced him to a shell, movements more tremor than purpose, and conversation, such as it was, inane and confused. The hate was gone, or at least in abeyance, but nothing had taken its place, and it struck Taren that, much as his father had walked away from the world when no longer able to deny it, his uncle had so drowned himself to avoid facing truth that there was very little of him left. Apathetic and underwashed, Henchard had already had a bout of lung-sickness it had taken the healers hard efforts to fend off, and Taren quietly told them not to challenge any further the course of nature. The Black God would be a more merciful host than he could be himself, and Kel's training induced an awareness of when losses might be cut, and higher authorities invoked.

After that visit Var's doings had, as always, been a welcome distraction. She had moved on from the girls' graves to the Pakkai road, rendered almost unrecognisable by basilisks and ogres, and now equipped with regular wayhouses and latrine blocks. No Rathhausakers had wanted to return to the Pakkai valley, but knowing it cleansed of haunting, and set fair to prosper as, if not quite a shrine, still a place of pilgrimage, the illegal settlers, once of Clan Beorhtscyld, had leaped at it, forming the nucleus of a new settlement, renamed Hléodréam for the joy Kel had known in receiving the children's grace. Village and mill had been spruced up, with additional houses, a substantial inn, and a more austere wayhouse stretching towards the ford. The hulked killing devices were gone, melted down with others in Stone Mountain's furnaces, and though the site itself remained a little raw, grass and wildflowers were spreading happily across barer earth, carefully transplanted when renewed tillage of the village fields began, and had become profuse in the once cleared zone, their colours complementing the glow of the panels and shining white of the memorial — which, Var told him in a wondering letter held up to Petal, seemed to be keeping itself clean, free of all soil and stain.

And people were going to see it. Only hardier pilgrims made the climb to the graves, and those who didn't were the more determined to do what they could, while those who did saw no reason not to make a clean sweep of it, so inn and wayhouse were doing brisk business. There was also, Var had observed thoughtfully in a regular letter, a cumulative effect that began with the Pilgrims' Way, climbing from the coast towards the wonders of New Hope, then moving on to the pulsing colours of Drachifethe, rich simplicities of the _kanji_ -house, and astonishment of the memorial, that _worked_ on pilgrims in a way most felt, though few could articulate — a timeline of work and grace that seemed to pare down to the heart of something, yet was as circular as linear and yet again a finality, moving from the need for Hléoburh, countering Rathhausak's threat, to Hléodréam, made from its stone and sealed by every realm. The idea of memorials as a sequence rather than isolated things interested Taren sharply, and he had been amused to learn from Kel during a spellmirror conversation that King Lewis had ordered Aussonne _not_ to rebuild its walls, alter the basilisk-way through the fallen barbican, or do anything about _le Pendu Pierreux_ except heed it carefully, and, after instating one of his better army commanders as the fief's new lord, had been sending his nobles to see for themselves.

"I don't think you can call it pilgrimage", Kel had observed, smiling, "but it's bringing the new lord some income as well as silencing those who think a stronger response would have been in order. And talking of income, the silver ore at Smiskir Junction is proving very rich, with quite a lot of gold too, which is going to be useful." The smile had faded. "Less cheerfully, Wuodan and Frige found the killer in the late queen's household, a steward answering to the Duc du Nord, and helped a priest of the Black God to release the sundered, so that's dealt with. They said pointing the guilty was satisfying, but the whole was a sordid mortal mess — the steward was supposed to procure Loup a woman, and did, but panicked when she fell pregnant, perhaps deliberately, perhaps paid to do so by someone, and it spiralled. It hadn't struck me before that Tortall's fortunate not to have royal bastards, but we are."

It hadn't struck Taren either, but he and Sam had since talked of it several times, for there had been philandering kings as recently as Baird the Roisterer, less than a century back, tending to disputes and grief, but Jasson's several half-brothers had not long survived his accession, and for three generations there had been only legitimate royal children. He had wondered too about an elder ordering a woman procured, and how Joren had fared in that regard, caught between his father's austerities, his uncle's immorality, and the violence of Vinson, but soon decided he'd rather not know though he did find himself thereafter thinking rather improperly of Lianne, who had by all accounts silenced any criticism of her self-removal from the royal marriage mart in a very imperious manner, and had yet to visit Stone Mountain, but had greeted him warmly and a little shyly when he and Sam had paid their respects at the palace. With his mother and aunt to see to, both pleased to travel but nervous about their reception, there had been neither time nor place for more, but he knew there was a question to answer.

He was recalled from his memories by the arrival of a breathless soldier from the Outer North Gate.

"Protector's party's a mile out, sarge, and there're dragons!"

The sergeant blinked. "Dragons? Lady Kawit, you mean?"

"Nah, an _enormous_ green one and at least four Kawit's size."

Schooling his expression, Taren nodded. "It will be Lord Jadewing, the ambassador, and the Journeydragons, sergeant."

"Ambassador, my lord?"

"Yes, but of the Dragonmeet to the Mortal Realm, not to His Majesty, so while he's properly _His Excellency_ , no formal protocol is required."

"Well, there's a relief." The sergeant didn't quite dare to glare at him, but came pleasingly close. "And the others, my lord?"

"Journeybeings journey, sergeant. The four will be Ladies Starcrest and Opaleyes, with Lords Sharpclaw and Longtail. They gained their rank at Samradh, and are taking advantage. Master Numair and the Wildmage have come, so Lady Skysong will be there too. Oh, and Lady Icefall, who is still an apprentice but as Lord Jadewing's daughter is allowed beyond New Hope by his let."

"You seem uncommonly well-informed, my lord."

"I try, sergeant." Sam grinned. "And I have some hopes of Lord Jadewing's visit."

Taren got back a deeply suspicious look, and watched with appreciation as the sergeant made sure men and gateway alike were spruced and proper. In the way of the Lower City, a crowd was beginning to gather and chatter, aware something was up if not what, and as word of dragons percolated a certain tension became apparent. That was one reason he and Sam were here, and pitching their conversation to be audible they remarked to one another how gentle a giant Lord Jadewing was, how exceptionally helpful he had been in recovering the dead at Rathhausak and giving unstinting labour to the creation of the memorial, and how devoted to his daughter Lady Icefall, the youngest dragon apprentice bar Lady Skysong, and not wrongly known as Scamp. This time the sergeant's look was quite approving, and the atmosphere lightened again, until a squad of fighting ogres emerged at the far end of the bridge, and after a moment deployed two to stop anyone from crossing while the rest jogged across. Taren stepped forward.

"Greetings, Moriaju. You've travelled safely?"

"We have, Lord Taren, thank you. It's just whether the bridge will bear Lord Jadewing that's doubtful."

"Of course. Sergeant Bentor here commands the duty guard. Sergeant, Moriaju is second in Countess Keladry's ogre troop."

"Sergeant."

"Second, uh, Moriaju."

"I apologise for acting directly, but His Excellency Lord Jadewing will need to lift himself magically so he doesn't break the bridge, and that means he'll want a clear spot to land and pass the gate. Lady Kel sent us to make sure no-one gets in the way. Or squashed."

"Ah. Right. Not squashed is good." The sergeant glanced at Taren and sensibly cut his losses. "Do carry on, Second Moriaju."

"Just Moriaju is fine, sergeant."

Taren and Sam made sure they were visible beside Moriaju as he emerged from the gateway into open view, and joined him and his fellows, with the guards, in politely asking people to clear some space for Lord Jadewing, adding that he would make as much more for himself as he needed but the more he had to begin with the less disconcerting it would be for everyone. The looks they got were entertaining, but as Kel understood well ogres were not easy to argue with and the crowd did good-naturedly shuffle back, up Palace Way and along Wall Street. Nor did they have to wait long, and though few could see, as Taren and Sam did, Lord Jadewing emerge from a ripple of houses at the far side of the bridge, peer at it with some curiosity, and cross it in a single floating bound, all saw the barbican abruptly bulge upwards and sideways like an overfilled waterbag, subsiding as the immensity of green dragon came clear amid a shocked silence. Taren and Sam stepped forward, bowing, and then looked up.

"Your Excellency Lord Jadewing, in the name of King Jonathan II Conté and Queen Thayet jian Wilima, be welcome to Corus." Taren looked further up to an excited bundle of white on Lord Jadewing's back. "And you, Lady Icefall. You have travelled safely?"

 _We have, Taren of Stone Mountain. It is good to see you again._

"And to see you, my lord."

 _Greetings, Taren and Saman. Corus is_ very _big. Why are all these people here? Is something happening?_

Taren grinned. "You are arriving, my lady."

 _Oh. Can I get down, Papa?_

 _Yes, but you must stay close, Icefall._

 _I will._

And without further ado the dragonet bounced off her father's back, using the hovering spell to slow her descent, to land by Taren and Sam.

"You're very good at that spell, my lady, but we should move on a little, so Kel and the others can come through."

 _Of course. Did you hear, Papa?_

Lord Jadewing had, and ambled forward, drawing the rest of his tail through the gate and bulging some houses aside — but with the journeydragons, more ogres, Kel with Dom, Tobe, and Irnai surrounded by her Clanchief's Guard, and a full building-team all coming through the gate no-one was sure what to stare at first. For Taren and Sam the problem was moot, because Var had dismounted and thrown herself into a heartfelt embrace, and by the time they'd disentangled themselves Kel was greeting the crowd and naming dragons to them, with senior ogres and Guardsmen, Master Geraint, and leaders of the building-team.

"They'll all be about for several months on Guild business, and for most it's a first visit to Corus, so they're curious. Be helpful and polite, please, and you'll find they're helpful and polite back. I can't imagine anyone will be silly enough to cause trouble, but if someone has a real issue, come straight to me — and spread that word to all, please. And so you all know, Lord Jadewing is the ambassador of the Dragonmeet to the Mortal Realm, here to observe the building-team, who are doing a nice round temple for Lord Sakuyo and the new College of Weapons in the Palace Enclosure, while the journeybeings are here to learn generally, and attend the Council of Guilds meeting."

She broke off as Bonedancer came flapping down Palace Way to circle Lord Jadewing alarmingly and glide to a perch on Kel's shoulder, clattering its beak in welcome. Kel grinned and gave its bony head a rub.

"Hello to you too, Bonedancer. You remember Lord Jadewing, I expect." The fossil preened at her, and she swung her attention out to the crowd again. "It's all new, I know, and dragons _are_ disconcerting, as they should be, but given Bonedancer you really can't say it's much stranger than you're already used to, eh? Oh, and we've brought mail, so anyone with kin or friends at New Hope can check with Sergeant Landor, riding with the pack-horses. He'll see what isn't collected now delivered in the next day or two, or folk can find him at the Own's barracks."

Taren wasn't persuaded that being used to Bonedancer was much of a preparation for dragons, but no-one was arguing, the potential for panic had been averted, and as he and Sam warmly greeted Kel, Dom, and the children the crowd was tipping into an almost festival atmosphere. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Kel greet the rather ugly man he'd seen before with Mrs Weaver, the crowd giving them a respectfully wide berth while staring intently, before introducing him to Lord Jadewing, and abruptly realised who the man must be. The good cheer was sustained as they all started up Palace Way, not least by Lady Icefall's chattering questions and Lord Jadewing's or Kel's patient replies, and even the rippling distentions of space on either side caused no more than comic dismay. Var was leading her horse so she could talk to him and Sam, and he was half-absorbed in what she was saying, but noticed how many people Kel greeted, and the effect of her name and presence, as much as any dragon's. Saving Aussonne, it was the first time he'd seen her outside her fief, but her authority did not seem any less, nor the impact of her power, and if there was something of the way any ruling noble carried title and stature with them, there was a distinct charge that was hers alone and made him think of the way events constellated around her of that extraordinary balance that made her seem the still point of the turning world wherever she went. He had in any case been looking forward to events since this plan had been hatched, and appreciated the way Kel had not said Lord Jadewing was also here for the Council of Guilds meeting, but he had been so tickled by imagining what the still squabbling and obstructive Council would make of the dragon he had somehow neglected properly to add an increasingly impatient Kel to the equation, and his anticipation ratcheted up. The obstructers might last longer than the walls of Aussonne, but he didn't think it would be by much, and Var broke off, staring at his grin.

"What?"

He gestured at Kel, saying something to Lady Icefall. "Funfunfun."

The Council of Guilds was not, by Tortallan standards, an especially venerable body, having been formally established only in Jasson's reign, when that energetic king became impatient with guild disputes eating into his time and ordered them to set up their own clearing-house. From his point of view it had worked well enough, Taren supposed, and the history books tended to treat it as a logical extension of the council systems that had already existed for nobles and army, but a nearer truth was that the then-guildmasters had realised they could use it to anchor their personal powers in Corus even while Jasson's conquests, north and south, expanded the area in which their guilds enjoyed royally chartered monopolies. What they had done with their greatly increased profits was evident in the Council's very handsome building on Palace Way, created by buying out three adjacent premises owned by member guilds and clearing the entire site for an ashlar mansion in the old Thanic style, engaged columns and pilasters beneath an impressive pediment and as Taren now understood very well, there was a direct and reciprocal relationship between that opulence and the poverty of the north.

New Hope and the Craftsbeings' Guild were beginning to make real inroads into the historic injustice, and with the king declining to hear any challenge to their monopoly on anything involving immortals the Council had had to lump it. The tainted Metalworkers and Smiths were still in internal disarray, but their representatives had inertly continued to support the present chair of the Council, Masterglassblower Norist, who deeply resented basilisk glass and was largely responsible for the strategy — if you could call it that — of maximal obstruction. The idea seemed to be that pointed failure to co-operate with the Craftsbeings would somehow oblige them to make concessions, though as Olimiaju had remarked it was far more detrimental to other guilds, who knew it, and were becoming restive, but lacked anyone to stand up to Norist. The journeyogre had also told him with an appreciative smile that Mrs Weaver had spoken for many lower- and middle-ranking guildsmen when she had very publicly remarked of Master Norist that she couldn't abide to see a grown man sulking, never mind him being so rude to Lady Kel, and after all she'd done for Corus. Olimiaju had himself done a great deal to undermine Norist, talking widely to guildsmen of all ranks as well as guildmasters and allaying fear while pointing out that there were advantages to becoming less greedily centred in Corus, for if guild branches elsewhere were to become more privileged relative to the capital, so too would those who ran such branches.

All in all, therefore, and even before Kel had arrived in such style, there was unusually widespread anticipation of the quarterly meeting of the full Council that fell in the week preceding the start of Midwinter and the Queen's Ball. After her arrival speculation intensified, especially as people noted that when she gave Lord Jadewing and other immortals visiting Corus for the first time a tour of the city, she included a score of guilds as well as the Protector's Maids' shops and more obvious landmarks, and so spoke to many guildmasters and senior members. Even so, when the several hundred people who happened to find themselves on Palace Way when Council members were due for the meeting saw who was coming a hush spread, and not only for Lord Jadewing — King Jonathan was there, with the Queen and Crown Couple, accompanied by Dukes Turomot and Gary, Sir Alanna, Lord Wyldon, other courtiers, and a flock of curious ambassadors. Erik Hrothgarsson was among them, not bothering to conceal his amusement at the full Clanchief's Guard who had insisted on accompanying Kel, nominally for security and because any opponent, even a glassblower, should know what he or she was dealing with, though in truth they were as full of anticipation as everyone else.

It all made for a crowd larger than the Council's usual meeting-room could hold, even with the gallery that circled the room jammed to overflowing, but that issue became moot as Lord Jadewing entered and created considerably more space than he needed. As the formal agenda included an objection to Var's membership of the Craftsbeings, alleging that nobles could not be guild members, Taren had reserved seats in the front row, and gently insisted that his mother and aunt come along but many found themselves giving way to the royal party, and had to stand in awkward rows along the great crescent of space that accommodated the dragon. He noted with interest that Mrs Weaver, with her husband and the rather ugly man who had to be the Rogue, had no difficulty finding chairs. Master Norist, seated at the head of the rectangle of tables scowled displeasure, and though he didn't dare glare at Lord Jadewing or the royals he made up for it with everyone else, especially Scanrans. As Kel took her place, Lady Skysong and Journeyogre Olimiaju flanking her with Guards behind, and was deferentially greeted by the Masterweaver and Masterdraper, on either side, the glare settled on her.

"Is all this nuisance necessary, Guildmistress?"

The nominal honorific was a sneer, and Kel considered him.

"That's Guildmaster, Master Norist. We pay no heed to the sex of the office-holder. And I find it curious to characterise the attendance of guild-members you are supposed to represent as a 'nuisance'. Unless you meant Their Majesties, Royal Highnesses, Graces, and Excellencies?"

"These armed men are not guild-members, and you need no guard here. It is a gross provocation to bring them."

"Is it, Master Norist? Besides their attendance on me as Clanchief Hléoburh being mandated by Scanran law and custom, I seem to recall surviving an assassination attempt on Palace Way, not so far from here, only two-and-some years ago, and a Clanchief's Guardsmen are not at all keen on saying things like 'but we thought it would be safe'." Kel had been speaking conversationally, but her voice hardened. "And in point of fact, all my Guardsmen are guild-members, as I have previously informed this Council, in the last amendment to the Craftsbeings' roll. Tell me, Master Norist, is your memory often as faulty as your manners?"

Norist went a nasty colour, and in the silence Taren saw the king settle contentedly back in his seat with a faint smile and an air of expectation. Kel graciously waved a hand.

"Well, no matter now, though perhaps we should give thought to relieving you of the duties you find so troublesome. In the meantime, perhaps we might get on with business?"

Taren hadn't thought Norist's colour could get nastier, but an attitude much more like the king's was spreading around the table, and Norist grudgingly called the meeting to order. His attempt at a further delay by slowly reading aloud minutes of the last meeting was brusquely challenged by the Whitesmiths, and they were accepted by vote, leaving him no choice but to proceed to the first item — a dispute between the Coopers and Brewers about a sizeable batch of barrels the Brewers swore had been made of very green wood, resulting in unacceptable spillage and taint. The Coopers denied it vehemently, and as their guildmaster spoke Kel and Lady Skysong sat straighter, looking at him hard. The Mastercooper fell silent, shifting in his seat, Kel raised a hand, and after a moment Master Norist grated an acknowledgement.

"Guildmistress?"

Taren couldn't see Kel's face but the look she gave Norist made the man swallow.

"I strongly advise you not to address me incorrectly again, Master Norist. What matters, though, is that for one and another reason I tend to hear lies quite clearly these days, as Lady Skysong does also, and if we have no immediate resolution here I would suggest to Masterbrewer Kailin that on behalf of his members who suffered loss he bring suit against the Coopers to be heard in the presence of griffins. Of course, he might then find the Coopers more eager to reach a settlement."

"Oh might I just?" The Masterbrewer rubbed thick hands. "Court, eh? Thank you, Guildmaster. I expect we'll be able to learn where that green wood grew too, and how it came to be used when plainly unfit."

"Surely, Guildmaster. Though as the whole purpose of this Council is to avoid guild disputes clogging royal administration, including the court, which is not sitting today, nor on any of the days we are scheduled to meet, it would make more sense in future to ask the griffins to attend. I've checked, they're willing, and I so propose. Second me?"

"Happily. Proposal seconded. A vote, please, Master Norist."

The glassblower stared. "Have you lost your mind, Kailin? We can't decide something like that without proper discussion."

"You find it hard to decide if members of this Council should be able to lie, Master Norist?" Kel's voice held a thread of amusement. "Do please tell me what the arguments in favour are."

"I … we … griffins are dangerous!"

"Of course they are, Master Norist. They're lions, eagles, and immortal mages, so I should hope they were. But perhaps you could explain why they are safe enough for the King's Justice, but not for ours." Kel turned. "I don't believe His Grace of Wellam has had any problems with their attendance."

The old man stood and gave a very short nod to Master Norist before answering Kel. "Besides the initial shock, not one, my lady. They have been a great blessing to justice, and to all save liars."

"Thank you, Your Grace. So I had understood. Does anyone else have a reason we should be able to lie? No? Then your caution seems practically as well as morally misplaced, Master Norist." There was a certain flatness in Kel's repeated vocatives, but her voice eased as her address widened. "It's true that young griffins can be a very irritating handful, but adults are honourable to the bone, however haughty. And as no-one wants to be cheated, they really are a boon — far better for all to be safe from being cheated than to remain vulnerable in the hope of cheating, don't you think? It would of course fall to Masterfishmonger Yaril" — Kel nodded to him — "to requite their services here, but as he already deals with them on behalf of the court, and the cost will hardly dent the Council's funds, I hope he would not be unwilling."

"Not in the least, Guildmaster. Delighted to, in fact. I vote in favour."

So did others, and Taren tallied votes with acute interest, seeing the balance shift. Norist was opposed, of course, and the Smiths and Metalworkers followed him, if with very unhappy looks the Coopers were also predictably against, and the Miners abstained, but while Taren thought several others were more equivocal than keen, they had also measured Norist against Kel, noted the support she had from Weavers, Drapers, Fishmongers, Butchers (dragons were _excellent_ business), Brewers, Wheel- and Wainwrights ( _very_ happy with the promise of improved roads), Farriers, and Whitesmiths, not to mention Goldsmith-Bankers, and decided they'd rather be on the winning side whatever they thought. Inviting griffins to attend all subsequent meetings passed by a large majority, Norist looked sourer than ever, and Kel nodded.

"Excellent. I shan't be here most of the time, of course, but Journeyogre Olimiaju can communicate with the griffins by darking or in Old Thak, so he'll make the necessary arrangements and liaise about fish." She gave the table a pleasant smile. "For some, of course, being unable to lie or bluster takes a little getting used to, but as it makes for far greater efficiency as well as honesty I've found that after a while no-one worth listening to is repining. On we go."

There was an interesting taste of what Kel meant as several further disputes on the agenda evaporated, the various parties to them finding that they had, perhaps, unfortunately become rather entrenched, naturally so in defending their members' interests, and were sure that if they and their opponents were to meet privately a mutually beneficial compromise could be found. Taren observed that neither Dom, Tobe, and Irnai, nor the king and queen, nor Mr and Mrs Weaver and the Rogue were troubling to conceal unholy amusement, while Alanna looked like a cat surveying well-cooked mice in a rich cream sauce His Grace of Wellam and Lord Wyldon had their usual austere expressions, but their eyes were glinting — as were Kel's Scanran Guards' — and Duke Gary was looking quizzically pleased. What his mother and aunt made of it he couldn't be sure, but both were wide-eyed at Kel's compelling exercise of authority, which was what he had anticipated and wanted. Immortals were much harder to read, even for Taren, but he'd bet their stillness was appreciative, all the same, and he could feel Blue's intent concentration.

The swift despatch of successive items of business was in itself a defeat for Master Norist : all matters concerning the Craftsbeings were at the bottom of the agenda, and though Taren doubted even Norist could seriously have hoped not to reach them, he had certainly intended them to come up only when everyone was already tired and wishing to be done, making further postponement of anything he could make controversial an attractive option. His own poor strategy was working against him, though, for even without the promise of griffins in future the Council's long delays and prevarications had left member guilds with many unresolved difficulties, and sensing the sea-change Kel was bringing they were keen to secure any resolutions that had wanted only will, and open to some rough-and-ready horsetrading if others would meet them half-way. Kel said little for a while, though her two interventions both enabled agreements — the Farriers jumping at her offer to broker training-courses with centaurs in return for a fee in barter paid to Herdmaster Whitelist plus a nominal rent for accommodation at New Hope, and so willing to concede to the Wainwrights a reduction in certain fees for the care of horses used in testing new wagons ; and the Whitesmiths equally keen on places for journeymen at the Craftsbeings' magical seminar, to see what cross-species magic might do with tin, and very happy in consequence to drop a request for cross-guild placements for which the Metalworkers and Smiths had been asking exorbitant payment — much to the dismay of both. After a glance at Kel Olimiaju also sliced decisively across an acrimonious dispute between Mercers and Drapers, over the special permits needed for the oversize wagons that carried the largest imported bolts of Carthaki and Yamani cloth, by turning to the king, asking (in a voice that silenced both bickering guildmasters) whether it might be possible to replace the present system of monthly quotas for permits with one based on the arrival of Carthaki and Yamani tradeships at Port Caynn, and receiving a cheerful royal assent with a direction to Duke Gary to see to it. There was a deal of surprised murmuring but Olimiaju had been cultivating relations with the palace as well as everyone else, and had besides, in the time afforded him by the Council's prolonged inaction, made himself and his strength very helpful to any number of people, His Majesty included. As discussion resumed a notable tendency developed to look to the ogre — and Kel — when anything suggested it might be intractable in case either had a solution and as, even when they didn't, one or other could usually suggest some fresh angle that left people thoughtful, things continued to rattle along.

Lady Skysong was silent, though her head swivelled from speaker to speaker, and Taren once or twice noticed Kel's hand drift to rest for a moment on her flank, below the proudly worn collar with its rondel. The dragonet was, Taren knew, amused to be a secret weapon of sorts in several contingency plans Kel had hatched, but was nevertheless taking her formal guild responsibility as senior journeydragon very seriously, and holding annoyance at mortal foolishness in check. There was also the consideration that only guildmasters to whom Kel had already introduced a dragon would ever have been mindspoken, and for the rest that shock was being held in reserve Taren had grown so used to mindspeech he had half-forgotten the oddity and hadn't thought of it as any kind of weapon, so the startled bemusement of his mother and aunt when they had met Skysong and Icefall had been a useful reminder.

Despite Master Norist's efforts items concerning the Craftsbeings were reached at last, first among them the complaint, nominally from the Metalworkers though doubtless at Norist's instigation, that a noble could not be a guild-apprentice. In a limited sense it was clever to have made the objection to nobility rather than gender, and the addition of _apprentice_ sought to side-step the little matter of Kel's undoubted nobility and mastership — but still left the objection awkwardly implying that a noble might be any sort of guild-member other than an apprentice, and the Mastermetalworker knew it. He did make a case of sorts, contending with a deep breath and an awkward nod to Kel that it was the purpose of guilds to represent workers, artisans, and manufacturers, by definition commoners, against all-comers, including nobility, and that there were therefore good reasons for keeping nobles from guild-membership, and the tallies of the Councils of Nobles and Guilds far more sharply distinct than, say, those of Nobles and Army. Lady Varia's case — and Taren noted with some scorn that the man didn't seem to realise she was present — was therefore the thin end of a deeply unacceptable wedge, and while there was unfortunately no mechanism by which the Craftsbeings could be obliged to rescind her admission, he felt it vital they be urged in the strongest terms to do so.

Kel nodded pleasantly. "I do take your points, Master Ebert, and if there were many among those in the Books of Gold and Silver lining up to join guilds I'd be sympathetic. But there are some points you managed to leave out, starting with the fact that not one guild represented here has anything whatever in its charter or established rules that mentions natal rank in relation to eligibility, while about half have a clear provision that in matters of protocol guild-rank comes before natal rank, so that it is, for example, Apprentice Lady Varia, not Lady Apprentice Varia. Which does rather suggest that the understanding of the guilds as a check on noble exploitation is … recent, shall we say? Even occasional, perhaps. And there are of course very many provincial and junior members of almost all guilds who would be extremely surprised to learn that their seniors were so dedicated to preventing their exploitation."

Kel's smile was equally pleasant, but a large part of the audience murmured appreciation, especially more junior guild-members in the gallery, and quite a few masters around the table winced, while Norist's colour again deepened alarmingly.

"One can also make quite the opposite case, Master Ebert, and I do. Look around this table, if you will, and notice that every face save mine, Lady Skysong's, and Journeyogre Elimiaju's is male, pale, and from a family that has been based in Corus and had senior members of its particular guild for more than a century. It may seem odd that a noble guildmaster, an immortal journeybeing, and a noble apprentice make for an important start to some much-needed diversity, but so it is. And I take the opportunity to point out to all of you that your charters have as little to say about gender and eligibility for membership as about natal rank." Kel's smile sharpened. "Now there is of course no mechanism by which the Craftsbeings can oblige any of you to stop discouraging or refusing female applicants for apprenticeship despite lacking any authority of charter or established rules to do so, but I do urge you all in the strongest terms to consider it, very carefully, and ensure that there are soon women on all your rolls. I believe I, and others, might … take it amiss, shall we say, were you to do otherwise, whereas prompt action would attract more than the Craftsbeings' favour." The stunned Mastermetalworker flickered a glance at Their Majesties, both wearing predatory smiles, and Kel wasn't done with him yet, voice sharpening as her own smile vanished. "And finally, Master Ebert, I would point out that, whatever your intent in tabling this objection, your failure to notify Apprentice Lady Varia directly before citing her to this Council amounts to a gross breach of courtesy as well as protocol, any member of any guild having a right to know of proceedings taken against them."

Taren enjoyed the horrified look on the Mastermetalworker's face as Kel turned in her seat.

"Apprentice Lady Varia, do you wish to make a formal complaint about that breach of courtesy and protocol? Or you, Lord Taren, as Apprentice Lady Varia's legal guardian?"

They both stood, Taren enjoying Master Ebert's increasingly severe discomposure as well as his mother's and aunt's intent observation, and pointedly let Var take the lead in a matter concerning her, noting with pride her unruffled composure despite her audience.

"Given the Mastermetalworker's strong traditionalism, Guildmaster, I cannot suppose he would deliberately flout such well-established procedure, so I would be inclined to think it an unfortunate and regrettable oversight on the part of his staff rather than a calculated personal insult. On this occasion, therefore, a simple apology, with an assurance that there will be no repetition, will suffice."

"So noted, Apprentice Lady Varia. Lord Taren?"

"If my sister is content with an apology, Guildmaster, I shall be so too. But I recall that there have been several other such … unfortunate omissions of due courtesy, slighting yourself, the Craftsbeings, and even His Majesty — attempts improperly to impose tariffs, letters not copied to the palace, and so forth." The King gave a sharp nod, fixing Master Norist with a hard royal stare. "I would therefore inform Guildmaster Ebert that I shall _not_ be so forgiving of any further lapses, and that I shall in due course be considering the place of the Metalworkers' Guild at Stone Mountain, where any number of serious questions arising from last year's revelations remain to be decided."

"So noted also, Lord Taren. Master Ebert?"

The man had clearly not reckoned with Taren taking offence on his sister's behalf but understood the threat, and if his apology was more aghast and mumbled than forthright, it _was_ an apology, and should have ended the objection. But Master Norist's glare at Kel was unforgiving, and as Taren and Varia sat he spoke with a new edge in his voice.

"Are we then to be insulted and threatened at the whim of the Craftsbeings?"

Kel's voice remained conversational, but Taren heard the flatness of increasing irritation underneath.

"What insult would that be, Master Norist?"

"You implied we exploit our own members!"

Taren could only see Kel's profile but bet an eyebrow was raised.

"By comparison with the Craftsbeings, Master Norris, many guilds do exactly that. Tell me, what percentage of your members are resident in Corus, and what percentage of your profits are centrally retained?"

Norist's glare became a stare. "I don't have such figures to hand."

"Don't you, Master Norist? How fortunate then that I do." Around the table breaths were drawn in. "By the Glassblowers' own roll fewer than ten percent of your members reside in Corus, while from their last filed accounts, covering 461 — two later sets are overdue — tithes to central administration from outside Corus were eight times greater than disbursements, to anywhere. Additionally, all examinations for promotion are held here, at Glassblowers' Hall, but neither travel nor accommodation are subsidised in any way, and there are large additional fees for registering an earned promotion that explain why few bother. Most other guilds are … not quite as bad, but the general pattern is consistent, and has since the northern conquests by King Jasson amounted to a constant tax paid by the poorest parts of Tortall to the richest. To state facts, Master Norist, is no insult, however those facts are shameful and must change."

"So you say."

"Yes, I do, Master Norist. Senior guild-members should support their juniors, not batten on them. I would not expect other guilds to adopt a model quite as egalitarian as suits the Craftsbeings, but the central … greed, to be frank, of the last century certainly needs to be tempered."

There was another, louder murmur of agreement from the audience, and the sheer opulence of the Council building surrounding them underlined Kel's point. Master Norist didn't like it, but shifted ground.

"Be that as it may, there was also your absurd demand that we all admit women, backed with a threat of action against us should we not. Such conduct is unacceptable, and so is your demand. If some charters fail to specify that only men may be admitted, that is because it is self-evident that women are unfit and unfitted for what we do."

There was an abrupt hush, and though Kel didn't move Taren saw a balanced tautness come to her.

"Well, now, it's a while since anyone was bold or foolish enough to make such a claim to my face, but it doesn't change the facts. Self-evident to whom, Master Norist? And it is not the case that _some charters fail to specify_ — I have been unable to find a single charter that explicitly restricts membership to men."

"Self-evident to anyone with the least sense! Physical strength alone settles it." Kel cocked her head amid a deepening silence, and Norist hurried on. "And charters need not be explicit in such a matter, for the obvious is implicit throughout. The Glassblowers' own clearly assumes male capacity and endurance in every way, and it is ridiculous to suppose that a woman could mine, or work a forge."

"I must disagree, Master Norist. And it is merely your assumption that maleness is implicit. There were female members of most guilds, even smiths, miners, and glassblowers, in the first and second centuries, and it was only with the rise of the cult of the Gentle Mother in the third that women ceased to be admitted as apprentices. In short, Master Norist, it is not any innate incapacity that debars women from the guilds, merely prejudice and a mistaken belief that recent practice is somehow mandated by charter or law."

Master Norist gave Kel a twisted but oddly triumphant smile.

"And I must disagree, Guildmistress." The vocative again carried a sneer, and Taren wondered at the man's blindness. "The Glassblowers' charter makes it clear that it applies to men and men alone, and before your pernicious misunderstanding of it can go further I shall make it clear that that is so, by reading it into the records of this meeting, with appropriate commentary."

Norist's wilful discourtesy, after omitting any of Kel's ranks for so long, brought angry looks, not least the king's, but the glassblower was so intent on his agenda of obstruction he didn't realise the wider hostility he was incurring. Opening a leather-bound tome and finding the place he wanted, he began in a deliberately slow and droning voice to read the Glassblowers' charter, stressing the use of _master_ and _he_ whenever they occurred but offering no opportunity to interrupt him. Kel gazed at him for a moment, then glanced around the table, and turned to give Lady Skysong a nod. The dragonet drew herself up, and concentrated fiercely for a moment while anticipation ratcheted up.

 _I understand that speakers at this Council should not be interrupted, and I do not interrupt Master Norist, though he is being very annoying as well as silly, because he alone cannot hear me._ Norist droned on as others straightened, amazement on some faces, and Lady Skysong in turn looked around the table. _Guildmaster Keladry asks me to ask all other guildmasters present, save only Master Norist, if you really wish to listen to him being annoying, or if you would welcome a peaceful but permanent solution to his foolishness. If you would rather listen to him, please raise a hand._

The dragonet gave it a long moment, but while many glances were exchanged no hand was raised, not even by the Mastermetalworker or Mastersmith. Skysong swivelled on her chair.

 _Ambassador Jadewing, as Master Norist is obstructing the proper business of the Craftsbeings' Guild, and there is clear precedent for immortal intervention when that happens, sanctioned by Ancestor Rainbow, I wonder if you might be willing to move Master Norist out of earshot, into one of those webbed spaces Kawit has been teaching us._

Lord Jadewing too concentrated for a moment.

 _I do commend you on this advanced skill in mindspeaking between kinds, Skysong — it is no mean feat for one your age. And I shall be happy to remove Master Norist from earshot, for you are right that he is being very annoying indeed. The Dragonmeet would not stand for this sort of thing, and I see no reason why the Council of Guilds should do so._

Jadewing's gaze shifted, and abruptly Norist was moving backwards, space sliding and folding around him as the table before him bent and elongated, stretching beyond possibility while walls and windows moved aside. Jaws dropped and heads swivelled, and Taren heard huffs of amused satisfaction from more than the king. His mother gave a faint squeak, but Aunt Lily had what might almost be a grin on her face. Already inaudible and dwindled into distance, Norist finally looked up, started, and came to his feet, climbing onto the table and trying to run back towards them. Taren swallowed laughter as he rose in the air and described a figure-of-eight loop, not apparently noticing that for half of it he was upside down. Var hummed pleasure, and Taren recalled Kawit's bizarre demonstration of what happened if you twisted a strip of paper and rejoined its ends. Everyone watched the distant figure complete several more loops before coming to a halt, hands on knees and plainly panting, though as it happened still upside-down.

"Mmmm. Thank you, Lord Jadewing. That is _most_ helpful." Kel's voice had lost its flatness, sounding warm and rich. "Now, Guildmasters, the first order of business must be a vote of no confidence in Master Norist. All else aside, his tactics have _not_ been working, as I believe you all realise, and this Council cannot continue to be paralysed by fears and foolishness when it has so much urgent business. As all gods and immortals agree, the Timeway has turned, and we enter a new and more peaceful age, so yes, there are changes, and some are surprising and uncomfortable at first." Her gaze shifted to the Metalworkers and Smiths. "But in the longer run they promise renewed prosperity and comfort for all, and passing beyond old problems. His Majesty had good and necessary reasons to create a monopoly on immortal work, and it will remain — but the Craftsbeings welcome co-operation wherever it is of mutual benefit, and gods know there are benefits to be had. I therefore propose that Masterglassblower Norist be dismissed as chair, and propose Masterfishmonger Yaril replace him, with Masterwhitesmith Bodram as his deputy."

Taren had been privy to some of Kel's thinking on this topic, and the choices were shrewd — both masters were of very old guild families, respected by all, but also flexible and sensible men who had seen the advantages of co-operation, with much to gain from renewal in the north, and neither was as yet closely aligned with the Craftsbeings though today's agenda had started to draw them in. It was a clear declaration from Kel that she wanted a properly working Council, and when the Masterweaver seconded her and called for votes, both were unanimously in favour, even Metalworkers and Smiths abandoning Norist without hesitation. Receiving the gavel, Yaril glanced at Lord Jadewing and looked at Kel.

"The remaining items concern reports you wish to make, Guildmaster. Getting on with it would be more productive, but if the, ah, present arrangement is, um, strenuous for Lord Jadewing, we could deal with Norist now."

Kel turned. "Is keeping Master Norist there a strain, my lord?"

 _Not in the least, Protector. Do carry on, Master Yaril._

Yaril nodded jerkily. "Ah, thank you, my lord. What was it you wished to report, Guildmaster?"

"My own thanks, Lord Jadewing, and … four things, Master Yaril. The first is that with the pilgrim routes, new mines at Pakkai Corner and elsewhere, opening of Fort Basilisk at Vassa Junction, and land being opened to settlement by the Pilgrims' Way, there are many opportunities at New Hope for journeybeings and younger masters. I have already spoken with some of you about this, but say now clearly for the record that the residence of the Craftsbeings at the Citadel does not mean other guild-members are in any way unwelcome, anywhere in my fief. I have of necessity opened smithies, farriers' shops, and inns on my own account, as well as mines, and those who run them will not be obliged to join any guild, but guild ventures will be welcome. Any guild-member who becomes my lieger will of course be bound by my rules, but that should be no problem for any guild willing to be reasonable about what it expects from new workshops in a new fief. And I remind all that Scanran trade is growing steadily, while Vassa trade will expand enormously as soon as the river is fully navigable, in two or three years. To be blunt, New Hope needs honest men and women of every trade, and will welcome them and their families generously. I will not of course allow anyone in my care to be exploited, but there are proper guild tithes as well as improper ones and greedily levied fees. Being reasonable and practical does not seem any great price for the scale of opportunity New Hope offers all."

Master Yaril nodded sharply. "Thank you, Guildmaster. That is a boon, and there are some very interesting advantages to having a guildmaster who is also a liegelady, so I am sure many will wish to speak further to you of this. I shall do so myself regarding the increased catch at Mindelan, serving Yamani pilgrims, and matters that will arise as the Vassa trade picks up."

"Certainly, Master Yaril. I shall be in Corus until Imbolc, at least, and am happy to speak to any who request a meeting. The second thing is related, because the branches of the Craftsbeings' mandated by His Majesty wherever there are resident immortals are being established with all speed. There is therefore the question of relations between such branches and any branches of other guilds already present. I can see no reason for problems, but many opportunities for co-operation and mutual benefit, and would therefore ask all present to discuss this in their own councils with all speed, and issue clear instructions to any ranking members likely to be in contact with any new branch of the Craftsbeings. Oh, and in many cases the senior mortal representative of the Craftsbeings will be noble, my kin connections being one thing I _have_ been able to draw on. Journeyogre Olimiaju has lists of new branches and assignments, and will be happy to discuss arrangements with you."

Everyone was looking thoughtful, some calculating, and Taren remembered with pleasure the firm instructions Kel had given Erde and the others about what could and could not be tolerated. How many of those at this table realised that Kel's purpose was to reverse the usual guild dynamics was moot, but changes at branch level would be filtering up, whatever instructions were passed down engagement with the Craftsbeings was going to be beneficial for all, but not necessarily in the way anyone expected.

"The third thing is more straightforward, for the Craftsbeings' Guild has two new products — Magically Assisted Towers, or MATs, also known as hoick'ems, and petrified foam."

Kel took a small hoick'em from her pocket, attached it to the table in front of her, and triggered it, making the table rise about three inches and hang there. Using one finger, Kel pushed it forward a foot and drew it back again, before Olimiaju held it down and she removed the hoick'em. A hum of interest ran through Council and audience alike.

"They use the dragons' and stormwings' hovering-spell to lift a given weight, are available in several strengths, and last at least a year. It may well be longer, but we cannot yet affirm that. As you can imagine, they have many uses, and demand is already high, but where they can make real contributions to the health and safety of guildmembers we are willing to grant priority. My senior clerk, Mandrinal, will be happy to receive applications from members of this Council."

More than one guildmaster was rubbing hands in satisfaction, and there was a chorus of thanks around the table. Kel nodded.

"You are all welcome. The conflict between the Craftsbeings and this Council was not of my making, and need not continue. In any case, there is also petrified foam." Olimiaju took a bag from a capacious ogre pocket and with swift precision lobbed small cubes to each Guildmaster, while Kel continued to speak. "In effect, soap-suds magically shaped before petrification. Very light, very strong, and because of the bubble-structure an insulator for heat and shock." Her voice acquired a certain appreciative complexity. "It was Apprentice Lady Varia's idea, and while it is of course the Glassblowers who could really use this as a packaging material, they won't be doing so for some considerable while, so there is an opportunity for others — the Potters, certainly, but it also has the property, if basilisk-sealed, of being both airtight and extremely hard for anyone _not_ a basilisk to open, so the Goldsmith-Bankers and Jewellers in particular might wish to consider that carefully."

Taren had never been quite sure what level Kel thought this particular irony belonged to, but the fact was that the Glassblowers would continue to have their usual high rate of breakages in transit, a constant source of friction and complaint, while those of the Potters would fall sharply, and Master Norist had no-one to blame except himself — one interesting question arising being what blame other members of his guild might care to assign him. Kel would have been announcing the new products anyway, but the way in which Var's inspiration about foam seemed specifically to slap at the Glassblowers was sufficiently pleasing to make one wonder about more than mortal ironies. He saw Kel savour it, before her gaze hardened.

"The last thing is of a different order. Master Ebert, will you allow me some plain speaking?"

Looking much like Junior called to order by Lord Diamondflame, the Mastermetalworker swallowed and nodded.

"Thank you. I am not concerned to hash over how your guild, with the Smiths, got themselves into such a state at Stone Mountain and elsewhere, but I am concerned with your response to exposure of that treason. Frankly, Master Ebert, denial won't do, and speaking now as Protector, Countess, and Clanchief, it can in certain respects no longer be tolerated. In the first place, none bears any responsibility for actions by others of which they were not aware, or were powerless to prevent — so, please, stop being foolish about this. And in the second, those former mastermetalworkers and mastersmiths condemned for treason, and sentenced to work on replacement limbs for veterans, are not making the progress they ought to be, and one problem is that the skills of other guildmembers are needed, including Craftsbeings and Metalworkers. Are you aware of the Wounded Veterans' Association? They will be sending a representative to the workshop where the condemned labour, as will the Craftsbeings, and if you wish to rehabilitate your guild, in more eyes than mine, you will send one too, and respond rapidly and positively to any request that representative makes. Our wounded deserve better than they are getting, and they _will_ receive it. Am I clear?"

When she named herself as Protector, Countess, and Clanchief Kel's voice hadn't changed but those mantles had all but tangibly dropped onto her shoulders and the force of her will had made the air seem denser. Her Scanran Guards had straightened, eyes gleaming, Lord Jadewing's head had moved forward, and most mortals, around the table or in the audience, seemed to hold their breaths. Taren felt his mother's hand grasp his arm, trembling, and brought his other hand across to rest comfortingly on hers. Master Ebert swallowed again.

"You are, my lady. It has been … very difficult."

"I imagine it has, Master Ebert, but I believe you will find that a new strategy offers comfort as well as many advantages. Perhaps you would care to dine with me and Count Domitan tomorrow night."

The invitation was shakily accepted, and the air thinned again as Kel gave an austere smile and turned to Master Yaril.

"That's all, Master Yaril. Shall we finish up?"

"By all means, Guildmaster."

At Kel's request Lord Jadewing abruptly returned Master Norist to his place at the table — or rather, on the table, the leather-bound tome crumped beneath his sweaty and disordered person, his eyes wild as his mouth worked.

"You … you …"

Master Yaril banged the gavel, and Norist's head turned.

"Yes, Master Norist. Us. Your peers, who have unanimously voted to remove you from leadership of this Council. I would propose the usual vote of thanks to an outgoing officer, but I don't think you deserve one. You were clearly and repeatedly warned that your strategy would win us nothing, and a quite different strategy can win us all a great deal. Now, it's all been a bit irregular, I grant, but as we're all in agreement no protest will get you anywhere. Are you going to make one anyway?"

Norist blinked, and Kel's implacable voice brought his head round.

"Be aware, Master Norist, in considering your decision, that His Majesty and His Grace of Wellam have personally witnessed all that has passed, and that Lord Jadewing is subject to no mortal law or jurisdiction. You chose, for no better reason than personal pique, to try to obstruct changes that have become necessary, and now you pay the price. Think very carefully before you increase it, Master Norist, for like Lord Taren I will not be so forgiving of any further discourtesies, and I remind you that by those traditions you so honour a Guildmaster, whatever his or her natal rank, is a person of honour liable to challenge."

Taren allowed himself a nod as eyes flicked to him, though he was more interested in watching council members process — successfully, for the most part — the idea that Kel had so far been more than merciful to Norist. The old man's selfish bitterness largely made her shrug, but his part in preventing the Metalworkers from recovering their balance had earned genuine anger, on Dom's and other veterans' behalves ; she'd never kill the man, but she would drag him onto a field of honour and strip him of it, if she had to, and Taren saw Norist realise that truth, head hanging in defeat.

Master Yaril took a deep breath and banged his gavel again.

"Alright then, we're done for today. I'll send a circular about the griffins, and I request and require every one of you to bring to our next meeting both a clear statement about relations with the new branches of the Craftsbeings, and a formal response to Guildmaster Keladry's observations about our practices of admission and tithing. Fees, too. I prejudge nothing, but it's clear to a blind man that there _will_ be some reforms, and I think we'd best get on with them." He took another deep breath. "Last of all, I believe I speak for the great majority of us in offering Guildmaster Keladry our sincere and grateful thanks for, well, giving us a good kick, more or less. We needed it, and now we have it we can get back to doing some proper business." The gavel banged once more. "Meeting adjourned."

There was probably no-one who didn't want to speak to Kel, but as they were all hesitant about it and she had no wish to speak to any of them Taren soon found himself escorting his mother and sister out behind her and Dom and Their Majesties, equally sprightly in avoiding being collared, while Sam saw to their aunt. Lord Jadewing's departure saw a considerable number of people propelled outside, as if the building were ejecting them from space it no longer had, and in a remarkably short time both the royal party and Kel's were striding up Palace Way as Scanran, ogre, and royal guards parted the crowds. There was a great buzz of conversation all around, and Taren was amused to see Lord Wyldon and Duke Turomot exchanging genuine smiles while shaking their heads. His Majesty, though, had a frozen expression Taren thought he recognised, and when he saw, at the junction with Gold Street, a busking fiddler fall silent and step back to let them pass, he left Var to escort their mother and lengthened his stride to draw alongside the king.

"You know, sire, when Lords Diamondflame and Rainbow felt such an urge to laugh at Kel's more wonderful tactics, they danced for all to see. Need a king do less?"

Queen Thayet snorted, hand rising to her mouth, as the King stopped short, staring at Taren.

"You suggest I dance, my lord? Here?"

"I suggest you show all your satisfaction, sire, rather than seeming unhappy, and grant your diaphragm some ease." Taren flipped the busker a silver coin. "Something both dignified and lively, please, master fiddler, fit for a happy king."

Taren thought His Majesty might have balked, even then, but the ripple of notes was compelling and a grinning Thayet took her husband's hand, drawing him into a stately twirl. Kel, who had been talking with Prince Roald, looked at him quizzically, but beyond her Dom took her hand, and Taren extended his own to a laughing Var, relieved to express his own pleasure in movement. He wondered if any gods had been watching, and found himself mellowed about their habit of waiting for Kel to entertain them she did so often provide an irresistible show.

That evening saw the city possessed of a great good humour, with many spontaneous gatherings to mull over the tale. There was, as far as Taren could tell, both a simpler satisfaction among guild-members at the unjamming of the Council with a promise of some reforms and fairer fees and tithing, easing things for many juniors, and a more general and complex pleasure in the Protector having once again lived up to her title and taken her glaive — plus a dragon or two — to some of Tortall's remaining bigots. She might be absent far more often than not, but she had become the Lower City's own, and they rejoiced.

Taren, Var, and Sam had spent the afternoon accompanying their mother and aunt to see Mrs Weaver at Stuivek Street, primarily to collect ballgowns for both older women that had them sighing pleasure, and took the opportunity to catch up with her a little. Taren issued an invitation to a Longnight party, accepted with pleasure, and heard with interest that more than one senior master among the humiliated Glassblowers had already told Guildmaster Norist bluntly that he should retire, soon, to enjoy some quiet leisure somewhere else.

"I doubt he has the sense, but one way or another he'll soon be gone." Mrs Weaver laughed. "Isn't my lady wonderful? You'd think they'd have learned by now, the way she keeps setting silly men to rights."

"One would hope so, I agree. And Kel could surely do without them — she was hoping for some peace after Yaman, and again after rescuing the Princess and dealing with Rathhausak, but the Council's obstruction was beginning to affect development at New Hope."

Mrs Weaver nodded, signalling an assistant to refresh cups of tea.

"So I gathered, my lord, and you're not wrong, of course — if anyone deserves some rest it's my lady." She dimpled at him. "But I think she's dealt with everyone now, so perhaps we can all just get on with things. Which reminds me, Tom asked me to tell you that the Weavers will be making a big effort with your tapestry, and thinks you'll be offered a handsome discount too."

Taren's eyebrows rose. "I'm not sure why I should be, Mrs Weaver."

"Aren't you, my lord? Well, say that they appreciated the way you put Guildmaster Ebert on the spot, then — no-one's been happy with the Metalworkers. And the way you've supported my lady hasn't gone unnoticed, you know, nor those new Protector's Maids at Stone Mountain, with your other investments, and buying that house for the Wounded Veterans' Association."

Taren had not publicised that donation, but it was of legal necessity a matter of record, and Her Majesty had certainly known. At some level it soothed his conscience about Stone Mountain's role in making the killing devices, however Wuodan would tell him off for feeling any guilt on that score, but it had also been a sound if expensive political move. He was, however, going to have to explain it to his mother and aunt, both looking at him quizzically, but that could wait.

"I'm glad to earn Stone Mountain a better name, Mrs Weaver, but I still don't see where any discount comes in. I'll welcome faster delivery, though — I've had the great hall at Stone Mountain cleaned and whitewashed, but without the tapestry it all looks very bare."

Some less charged discussion of the difficulties of redecorating a castle gave his mother and aunt a chance to contribute, and ended with Mrs Weaver suggesting a particular draper might have some fabrics in the weights they wanted. When business reclaimed her they departed on what proved a successful mission to the draper, enjoying the air of celebration and the respectful nods quite a few folk offered as they passed. Back at the townhouse Taren had less relish for a discussion of his generosity, but found himself gently cornered by Aunt Lily and provided with a glass of wine Var winked at him as Sam filled one for their mother, and his aunt peered at him with bright eyes.

"I realise it embarrasses you, Taren dear, but your mother and I have some things we need to say. It was very exciting today, and of course the magic and seeing Lady Keladry deal with all those men was wonderful, but for us there's something more, and that's seeing the way people respect you, and us with you." Aunt Lily drank, and her voice became reflective. "I didn't have to come to Corus so often, because Henchard preferred to bring that woman of his, but your mother had to be on Burchard's arm when he wanted, and it wasn't so easy."

Taren bet it hadn't been, but gave his mother an enquiring look, and she nodded.

"Everyone was always coldly polite, and your father was the same back, but they didn't like him and the nice ones felt sorry for me. You can always tell." She sighed. "I never have understood politics, but I did know far more people truly disliked him than he ever seemed to realise. It was a relief when he shut himself away at home. But it's so different now, dear, because everyone likes and respects you so much — all three of you, but you especially, Taren dear. Even that old stickler Nond was saying how well you were doing, and Lord Wyldon was _very_ complimentary about you all. Commoners, too — all the shopkeepers we've spoken to, and the journeyman healer I saw about getting our hedgewitches better training was explaining how important those stormwings you've invited to Stone Mountain will be, because lots of healers want to see what they'll be doing, and can offer our own people training while they stay with us."

Struggling with emotions, Taren bent his head briefly.

"I had hoped that would be so, Mama, and it's a good thing Queen Barzha fell pregnant as she did because I learned yesterday that Queen Thalia also has hopes, and will be with us no later than Beltane."

He didn't need to mention that Queen Thalia's pregnancy was a result of attending the executions at Clan Beorhtscyld, but in their darking-exchange Barzha had promised him, eyes glinting as she relayed the news, that the Stone Mountain healers training at New Hope would receive a thorough briefing on stormwing fertility.

"So soon?" His mother's brief alarm swiftly shifted to a pleased determination. "I must let the healer hall know. But I'm distracting myself. What I wanted to say, dear, was that Lily and I are not only very grateful, we're also very proud of you, all of you. I was so afraid for you all for so long, and I felt so guilty seeing you try to protect me when I should have been protecting you." Taren wanted to protest but found himself shushed by his aunt as his mother went on. "No, I should have. Parents should. But nothing I could do did any good, nor Lily. And when it all changed, with Joren dead and your father abdicating and you banishing Henchard, I just felt numb with the shock, not knowing what would happen. But even my wildest hopes fell short of this."

Some emotional conversation settled into a proper explanation of the Wounded Veterans' Association, with the prosthetic uses of petrified foam, and the progress of the Stone Mountain man who'd lost an arm in the sally leavened the underlying connection between killing devices and the unprecedented number of limbs lost in the Scanran War. His mother's concern was more general health and better midwifery, but the wounded were a logical extension and she was genuinely interested in the connections between veterans and injured miners, if wary of a reconnection with the condemned metalworkers. They were beginning to contemplate dinner when a wide-eyed servant came in to announce the Countess and Count of New Hope, with others, were requesting admission. Others turned out to be the twins, now champion crawlers beginning to experiment with walking, Tobe, Irnai, and a very bouncy Lady Skysong, trailing a mere half-dozen Scanran Guards. As orders were swiftly relayed to increase the size of dinner, above and below stairs, and bring more wine, Tobe and Irnai looked to the twins, exploring the rug, Kel sank into a chair with a sigh, and Dom smiled apologetically at him.

"Sorry to impose, Taren, but Piers and Ilane are being thoroughly diplomatic with assorted ambassadors and guildmasters, and Kel's had enough of those for one day. Me too, frankly."

"I imagine you have. And my congratulations on a part well played, Lady Skysong."

 _Thank you, Taren. I wish I was strong enough to do that spell myself, but I don't suppose it would work on gods._

Taren blinked. "Me either. Has one been annoying you lately?"

 _No, but I am sure one will get around to it soon, even though the darkings say they are all still very pleased with Kel._

"So we gather." Quite where Darking ethics fell on this Taren still wasn't sure, for they would never show the divine realm but seemed to have no problem relaying gossip. "I believe Lord Sakuyo enjoyed today, also, deeming it a fine jest. How is Lord Diamondflame?"

 _Grandsire is well. He is also still pleased with Kel, and says he will come to see Jadewing when we are back at New Hope. I will have much to tell him._

Skysong bounced over to greet Taren's mother and Aunt Lily, receiving their own charmed congratulations on her performance, and Taren found Dom giving him a look.

"Lord Sakuyo liked today?"

"So Blue tells me."

The darking was communing with Button, but swivelled its head.

 _Laughing god laughed. Others too. Fun._

"Good to know, Blue, thank you." Dom shook his head. "I hadn't dared ask, and shifting a silly guildmaster seems very small beer by this year's standards."

"Bloodless and effective, though, and that closed loop was a nice touch, especially when he stopped upside-down."

"True, though I try not to think about anything with two sides having only one." They exchanged wry smiles. "Still, Tobe thought it was right for someone so back-to-front, so I expect Lord Sakuyo agreed."

"Probably." Taren glanced at Kel, talking to Var, and lowered his voice. "Was she very upset about the bigotry?"

"More exasperated with sheer stupidity, I think. But she's glad it's all done — patiently wrangling people to see the obvious is not her favourite occupation, and tiring besides."

"Tell me. I still don't have a new priest, and the old one _cannot_ get past gaping at the list of shrines I want." Dom grinned. "Which reminds me, any priestly news from Wuodan or Dabeyoun?"

"There was, actually, just before we left, and we should expect a Carthaki sometime next summer." Dom shrugged. "Wuodan was busy with something affecting the Chaos-hunt Kel wants, but from what little he said we gathered he's a warrior who grew weary of war, became a priest of the Black God, and has taken a severe dislike to temple politics, so the remoteness is actually an appeal. Var's design, too, I think. Which reminds me that Piers and Ilane asked me to tell you they're very happy with the proposed design for the memorial at Mindelan, and will be in touch when they have a moment, meaning after Longnight, I'd think." Taren nodded, pleased. "Anyway, asking Dabeyoun was a very good call on your part, so our thanks. And we're due a meeting with Holloran and the Yamani ambassador about turning some of our Blesseds into proper Sakuyans, if you're interested."

"Certainly. I shall be wanting a good Sakuyan myself, by the by."

Dom laughed. "Will Stone Mountain survive official jesting?"

"It will learn to like it, eventually. Better to make a joke than be one, however you cut it."

"Ouch. As bad as all that?"

"Oh, not really. We're coming along well enough, but talk of turning quarries into temples and inviting stormwings has people thinking I've taken leave of my senses. It'll be easier once things start happening."

"Mmm. Barzha wants ogres and basilisks around when Thalia arrives, so you'll be getting a mining-team sooner than you might have done."

"Excellent. I entirely understand why Pakkai Corner had to be the priority, but that is welcome news. I'll make sure a guild office is ready. Any particular preferences or specifications?"

With the twins asleep on a sofa, watched by two cheerful Scanrans and several delighted maids, matters of Stone Mountain took them into dinner, where conversation broadened, and looking round his table Taren found himself well-pleased, even with himself. Var and Sam were talking to Skysong, Kel and Dom to his beaming mother and aunt, while he and Tobe listened to Irnai's latest interest in pre-Thanic history — a method of prophecy by studying the flight of birds that she thought very dubious. He imagined what his father would once have had to say about such a table of guests under Stone Mountain's roof, and smiled.


	55. Chapter 56

Chapter 12: Epilogue - A Public Future Chapter Text

 **Epilogue : A Public Future**

 _Stone Mountain, August 467 HE_

THINKING back over his long, slow courtship with Princess Lianne, both of them hesitant for quite different reasons but convinced in the end that beyond their increasingly necessary friendship they could do very well by and for one another, Taren mostly wondered how it had come to seem a good idea to combine their wedding with the dedication of Stone Mountain's marvellous new temple. The logic was unarguable, many of the same guests being wanted for both events and having a long way to come, so his and Lianne's close comings-of-age, with his accession to the King's Council and settling the date of the dedication once all the statues of the High Ones were completed, had prompted them to decide that Getting On With It was in order — which had entirely delighted his mother and aunt, Queen Thayet, Prince Roald and Princess Shinkokami, and perhaps even King Jonathan, despite a continuing tendency to threatening royal looks and dark fatherly muttering. But Taren found he had somehow omitted to imagine either the sheer scale of preparation that _everyone_ would think necessary, or the nerves involved in the collocation of his family, such as it was, with massed nobility, assorted immortals, and in all likelihood a god or three. Some guests had already arrived, and the royal party, with Corus, Mindelan, and New Hope contingents, were expected in late afternoon cooks had been hard at work for hours, and his mother and aunt had everything well in hand, with Sam, Var, Captain Horgan, Steward Thalric, a royal chamberlain, Master Oakbridge, and a host of minions to fetch, carry, polish, and generally scramble to order, leaving him to a task that even now made his muscles tense, but had to be done.

He had thought it wise for his father to see the many changes at Stone Mountain before the royal guests and Kel arrived, and had summoned him to attend the Lord of Stone Mountain no later than noon. Informed of Taren's engagement more than a year back, Lord Burchard had offered only a brief observation that it was an advantageous alliance when there was no further point in trying to conserve either bloodline, which had saddened rather than angered Taren. News last winter of Uncle Henchard's death from lung-fever had occasioned equally little comment, and no desire to attend the funeral at Margaran, which Taren had kept, while proper, strictly private and low-key. His father still dwelt at the hunting-lodge, and seemed to have no plans to do otherwise, but did maintain his training-at-arms and worked regularly at the kennels : the scent-hound project was coming along nicely, and he was also breeding hunting- and guard-dogs, useful beasts that made handsome gifts. Taren wasn't sure what Lord Mithros would think, but it was something, and there had even been an oblique enquiry about how Sam and Var were doing on one of the rare occasions when a nagging sense of filial duty made him stop by. The continuing withdrawal did mean, though, that (whatever he might have heard) Lord Burchard had not seen the transformations of Stone Mountain that the Craftsbeings' Guild and the presence of Queen Thalia's flock had wrought, in mining practice, landscape, and populace alike.

It had in general all gone more smoothly than Taren had dared hope, though not without its moments. The Guild team had dealt with the trade-road as they came, giving all carters, messengers, and anyone else who cared to go and look reasons to be grateful and welcoming, while Var's clever scheduling had ensured that some of the most dangerous underground repairs were undertaken first, with results no miner could ignore. Thereafter basilisks and ogres had been cautiously welcomed by most, and if it had taken longer for true civility to join practical acceptance, that had happened all the same. Blue, Silk, and Petal were also slowly accepted, as word spread of the small companions he, Sam, and Var bore, but they were understood to be harmless, and were in any case always with a mortal. A stormwing flock, however, had been a very different proposition, and even now there were few who willingly spoke to the flying immortals, though smart leather tunics embroidered with names, the invaluable influx of interested healers who followed them, and a growing awareness of what they could do had won at least a grudging tolerance. Taren had made arrangements with the Wounded Veterans' Association for some of those worst troubled by memories to come to try unterrifying, thinking that evidence of beneficial care would help, but it had been the first, and so far only, occasion on which he had asked the stormwings to force speech that had sunk deeper. A bad house-fire that had killed an elderly couple had turned out to have been set, and at the cost of briefly terrifying several innocents Queen Thalia had found the culprit, a servant dismissed for petty theft who had hoped to manage some looting in the chaos but misjudged things. It had been the first execution Taren had ever had to authorise, and though he had hated the whole business there had been an unexpected benefit in his liegers' strong approval of the speed and surety of justice aided by immortal perceptions, and — everyone being scared of an arsonist — even of the flock feeding above the gallows. He had, on Kel's advice, filed it under 'Irony (immortal)', and if he still didn't entirely understand why people should be more impressed by swifter death than by better lives he was happy to see the stormwings respected.

Their young, once hatchings had begun, had also shifted perceptions helpfully, though not as much as the one visit by dragons — and _that_ was still bearing rich fruit, he thought, reining in beside Lord Burchard and gesturing to the view below. His father wore a deeply stunned expression as he contemplated what had once been a very large, very ugly, and dangerously unstable slagheap, and was now a sculpted grassy hill with winding paths and a scatter of young trees as well as a small rill on one flank, that fed a fair-sized pond attracting waterfowl before winding down and away to join the Petren.

"How … did you do this?"

"With the help of dragons and basilisks, Father. I find I don't much care for eyesores, nor having liegers menaced by unstable slag, so Var negotiated with the Guild to have it fixed. The basilisks could just have stabilised it by binding the slag, but with the help of Lady Wingstar and Lord Jadewing we were able to shape it as well, and put in the rill and pond for drainage."

Burchard stared at him, then half-nodded, eyes returning to the renewed landscape.

"I feared its collapse, but the miners all said moving anything was more dangerous than leaving it."

"Mmm. You were also asking them to do it on top of the all-but-impossible workload Genlith's quotas imposed, and without extra pay." Taren waved a hand as his father frowned. "But it's done now, and people walk there when the weather's fine. The other large slagheaps were done at the same time, and on basilisk advice I've changed the rules generally, so we shape, stabilise, and grass new heaps as they grow."

He received another awkward nod. "It is … you've done well."

"Thank you, father." Taren's emotions were complicated, and the praise so long desired, so long known an impossibility, now seemed oddly unimportant, though he wondered if that would change. Blue shifted on his collar as he glanced up at the sun. "We should get on to the temple, if you don't mind. I need to be back when Their Majesties arrive."

"Yes." His father spurred on, descending to the stone-road, and once Taren was beside him, Vesker and other guards falling in behind, gave him an odd look. "Do you expect me to greet the King and Queen?"

"Personally, yes. Formally, no. You can join us all for a drink before dinner, and retire as soon as the meal's done."

"Very well." His father swallowed. "I … no longer resent Their Majesties, but … I would not seek their company."

"You need offer only simple courtesy. And frankly, Father, I doubt that they'll seek yours." Taren let Lord Burchard digest that, thinking that his reluctance was still more to do with pride than shame. "Beyond that courtesy, to all, be as austere and silent as you wish, though Lords Wyldon and Dagal are both coming so you might wish to speak of hounds. All that matters to me is that you be seen alive and well, and supporting my marriage to Lianne."

"Of course. The politics do not change."

"In that, no, and the more so because so few nobles have seen you since your last departure from Corus. In other things, though, you might be surprised. Remember Tortall now has solid alliances with Scanra, Carthak, Yaman, and Galla, as well as far better relations with the Copper Isles under Queen Dovasary, so there is no serious foreign threat. And domestically, the many resident immortals under treaty are integrating well, while as you know the end of the Scanran War saw … some considerable turnover, let's say, in both nobility and guilds, so politics are more pragmatic than they used to be." Taren voice became drier. "And however you feel about it, Countess Keladry commands both a large majority on the King's Council, including New Helm and New Spring, and a profound and widespread respect, so one way and another rather more gets done these days."

The renaming decisions of Lords Douglas and Alan had been popular, as well as a joint declaration of alignment, and his father nodded.

"I … see. I imagine the King is happy with that."

"He is, yes. But say rather that he and Thayet are, without constant threats of war and treason, understandably more relaxed. Roald and Shinko have taken on more public duties, too, so Their Majesties are less badly stretched."

"Yes. I never faulted their energy."

Taren contemplated that concession, wondering what it meant to a man who still chose not to tolerate much of the world, and they rode in silence until, rounding a wooded spur, the dome of the temple and its towering stone supports became visible.

"What on …"

"Wait and see."

Basilisks and ogres had turned the once ragged quarry into a nearly perfect three-quarter circle as well as roofing it, and the projecting quarter-dome rested on two petrified pillars, gleaming in the westering light that flared from the glass above, crowning all. Shorter pillars topped by a curving lintel marked out the quarter-circle and created a formal entry into an outer precinct, but there was no door, only the gap in the cliffs, neatened at the sides and capped by the dome, but open to the air as the temple was open to all. Dismounting, he let Vesker take his horse and nodded to the guards flanking the entry, gesturing his father forward. Inside, the floor was levelled and polished rock, and besides one low plinth for a celebrant and those participating in namedays or weddings there were only icelights, a simple set of curving benches, for tomorrow only a set of perches for Queen Thalia and her flock, and on the inmost arc of rock the eight niches holding the shrines.

There had never been any question in his mind which gods would be represented, nor that Mithros and the Great Goddess would be central, but displacing the double-width niche for Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady had posed a question he had answered by combining the figures of the Black God and Graveyard Hag in a second double-width niche the additional presence of a laughing Dabeyoun (with one of the Hag's sacred rats) corresponded to the marvellously alive figures of Wuodan and Frige, flanking Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady. Beyond them were, on one side, Lords Gainel and Sakuyo, and on the other Lady Shakith and a niche holding only a carved representation of the gods' circle, dedicated to all High Ones. He had tried to find someone at Stone Mountain who could carve the statues, but in the end had with Kel's help tracked down the Gallan who had created the figure of Lord Sakuyo that stood in his temple in Edo, and paid the man handsomely to come for more than a year and undertake them all. Darkings having seen every god save Lord Gainel manifest in the mortal realm, accurate images had been available from Blue, Petal, and Silk, and when the Gallan averred that the face and image of the Dream King had come to him as he slept Taren wasn't going to argue. He, Var, and Sam were all throughly delighted with the results, and the Gallan had done a second, smaller figure of the Great Goddess for a distinct purpose.

His father, pausing to stare at each god and often looking up, completed a slow circuit, and came to stand before him, face very still.

"This … building … I suppose, or space, maybe, is … an astonishment."

"As a house for the gods should be."

"Indeed. But …" — his father gestured upwards — "such a roof!"

"For the Craftsbeings' a glass hemisphere is a standard design. Those who did this one were more interested by the challenge of the pillars."

"A standard …" Lord Burchard shook his head a little to clear it. "You told me about a large greenhouse, I recall, but I did not understand. The statues are surprisingly good."

Taren nodded. "A Gallan sculptor, who came recommended."

"By?"

"Lord Sakuyo." His father blinked. "Indirectly. Kel took a carving of that High One as a gift when she attended the dedication of his temple in Edo, and he chose it as his principal image there, making it grow."

"I … see." Taren inclined his head, doubting it. "And why these other gods, the open niche, and the steps on both sides of the plinth?"

"Saving Lord Gainel, whom I do not care to slight, those represented are the High Ones I have myself seen more than once. The open niche is for the servants of all others. And the steps on the further side are for any god who might manifest and not wish to stand below the celebrant. It seems only polite."

There was a pause while several expressions were stillborn on his father's face.

"More than once."

"Just so, though not, saving Lord Mithros, to talk to — at Aussonne and at Hléodréam. How many may manifest tomorrow I have no idea, but for various reasons a … strong showing will not surprise me." He took a deep breath. "One thing you need to know, Father, is that while Archdivine Holloran will conduct the dedication, Lianne and I have asked Countess Keladry to be the celebrant of our marriage. Although she does not openly claim the rank, having quite enough hats already, she is recognised by all temples as a fit celebrant, and acts as one at New Hope. And given _all_ the circumstances, Lianne and I want no-one else."

"The temples accept her? I did not know that."

Taren bit back a retort. "They have for some years. I believe Lord Weiryn's and the Green Lady's cheerful acceptance of her invitation to dine and dance left Archdivine Holloran feeling he had little choice."

To his surprise a faint smile crossed his father's face.

"Rightly so. I was more surprised at the divines' approval, and a little at her being willing to undertake such a role."

"Mmm. Tover _doesn't_ approve, I fancy, but knows better than to say so in my hearing. I have allowed him to keep the temple in town, where he will find attendance dwindling, and this one has a new man, Fordel, who is … more sensible. Archdivine Holloran was mostly relieved, I think — he is very happy to defer to Kel when actual gods are involved. And Kel has been known to grumble about demands on her time, but it matters to her liegers, and unless there are strong reasons she confines namedays and weddings to the quarter-days."

His father nodded, looking thoughtful. "I see. Tover was never of any use to me, and offered no guidance, but I have thought that I allowed the seasonal feasts to fall into too casual an observance."

"You did, yes. We depend on our fields as well as our stone, and I believe all are happier with the renewal of proper offerings and attendance." Taren took a breath. "Forgive me, but I have never understood why you would slight the gods of their traditional dues even while crying out for their regard."

His father looked away, but then met his gaze.

"Blindness. Obsession." A faint shrug, perhaps at the euphemisms for overweening pride. "I was intent on Lord Mithros, no other, and did not … suppose he cared about such things."

"I believe what matters is that _we_ care about such things. The ceremony means all must concentrate on the divine, and the holiday feasts give useful structure and occasion. Production is up, you know, despite my abolishing quotas." He hesitated, but forced himself on. "Forgive me again, but you and Uncle Henchard were far too _narrow_ , in so very many things. Purity of blood and custom, results measured only in tons of ore, steel, and ashlar, Lord Mithros and no other — and one heir to be all things. Do you see the pattern?"

After a moment he received a jerky nod.

"Yes. I … it is hard to accept, but I know I … misunderstood much." Lord Burchard grimaced and spoke with slow care. "Countess Keladry … opened my eyes when she offered to speak to the elemental. She was … sincere. And that night she called on three gods to strike down that fool Torhelm, and was answered. She swore to her own death also. I could not sleep for the weight of … confusion. But what the elemental said …"

Moved despite himself Taren put a hand briefly on his father's arm, receiving a surprised look.

"I know what the Lord of the Chamber told you about Joren, Father. You did not deserve his … malice. Sam, Var, and I often wished you … different, but we did not wish you dead. We did, however, wish Joren dead. Often and imaginatively. Do you understand how cruel he was?"

"Cruel? I … he … was it very bad?"

"Bad enough. Ask Healer Rumil how often he had to patch up Var. Or don't — we've all healed ourselves, with Kel's help, though Sam and Var would probably value an apology. Mother and Aunt Lily, too."

"I … you wouldn't?"

Taren shrugged. "Too late for me, I think, and I have already forgiven you in so far as I am able." Was that a wince? "But there is one more thing you should see before we finish this conversation, at the mausoleum."

Taren hadn't intended to put needless stress on his father, but as they rode the long mile back to town and up to the stables he decided it did no harm to — he smiled to himself — discombobulate him a little. Or a lot, and he took care to point out various changes in the town : the Guild Office, with its ogre- and basilisk-scale doors, some of the Protector's Maids shops, and the war memorial in the central square, the Goddess's healing spiral wrapped around a sword, that replicated the national war memorial in Corus and honoured all Tortallan casualties while regretting everyone's dead and invoking renewal. The resting-place of the Lords of Stone Mountain had its own compound within the walled grounds behind the castle, greensward surrounding the over-ornate building, and his father stopped dead as he saw the new, triple-roofed tea-house that stood beside it, but Taren propelled him onwards.

"I will explain after you have seen inside." Taren took a deep breath. "Be aware that I wanted, very badly, to smash that effigy of Joren you had installed. I imagine that after hearing the Lord of the Chamber you had some harsh thoughts yourself."

"I ... yes. I still do not understand how he could … be so …"

"Hateful? Ungrateful?" Taren shrugged. "Sir Nealan of Queenscove says he was halt in his soul, as a man may be in his leg. I tend to agree. And I believe you know why he failed his ordeal."

His father looked at him sharply.

"Yes. Do you?"

"I do. Kel told me what the Lord of the Chamber said. I mention it only because it matters to what I have done here that Joren preferred to die than keep his fief safe by serving Kel."

His father closed his eyes for a moment, and Taren watched the traces of emotion that passed over his face — pain, regret, perhaps, and something that might be rue as well as a flash of anger.

"It was … foolish of him."

"That is one way of putting it. Like you, if more permanently, he decided he could not tolerate the world as it is, and while I can respect your grief for his loss, if not quite for him, I do not share it. But I have left the effigy, while making one addition you should see. Please do so now. You will find me in the tea-house when you are done."

He received a puzzled look but his father went, and Taren walked round to the tea-house, finding the service waiting as he had asked. The ceremony was not as dear to him as to Kel, but besides admiring the aesthetics he liked the calm it demanded and created, and after praying at the simple shrine to the Great Goddess he had had installed, with the Gallan's exquisite image of her aspect as mother, he found he … needed was too strong, but very much appreciated such calming. Lianne liked it too, and Shinko of course approved greatly. Kel had been wryly amused by his choice of the most traditional Yamani form, and last Midwinter had given him an exquisite tea-set, perfections of shape in the subtlest monochrome glazes, and a boiling vessel with its own heating-spell worked in. He triggered it and settled himself to wait for his father, pondering what had and had not been said, and answering questions from Blue about both. There was also the complex state of affairs at Freebridge, formerly Genlith, but now at the petition of its inhabitants a free town, like Bearsford, though the King had insisted that Stone Mountain have an overriding authority in matters of justice and administration until it could be seen to be functioning properly. Things were shaking down well enough, but Genlith's long neglect and Turomot's severe examination had left a to-do list that did not seem ever to shrink, however he tackled it, and once the wedding festivities were over he and Lianne had plans to do some cheerful but implacable descending, cajoling, and (where one or two particular irritants were concerned) flat-out intimidating.

Lord Burchard was longer than he'd expected, and showed no emotion as Taren invited him to sit on the cushion, made tea, poured, and offered him a cup before sitting himself.

"Peace be with you."

A faint frown showed. "Is there a ritual answer?"

"And with you. I don't expect you to follow it, Father. It is only that I thought we could do with some calm. Do you have any questions about the shrine to the Great Goddess?"

There was a pause, but Taren credited his father with actually thinking about his answer.

"Not as to its purpose. You are telling me I was wrong about all women, not only Countess Keladry."

"In some measure, yes. But that shrine is foremost a place of prayer that my forebears, and even Joren, find release from their hatred of, and contempt for, women, and so an end to any punishment on that account." Taren sipped tea, enjoying the subtle flavour and his father's surprise. "However I felt about Joren living, I bear the guilt of desiring and welcoming a brother's death, and have worked hard to set aside my hatred and contempt for all he did and was. To forgive him, and myself."

His father's hands moved ambivalently. "One cannot pursue the dead."

"Actually, Father, that depends. At Hléodréam I saw Kel pursue the late King Maggur, his necromancer, and Stenmun Kinslayer even in the Peaceful Realm, and by Lord Dabeyoun's word knew them compelled to hear and heed her as she undid all their works. But I quite lack her standing with the Black God, and in any case Joren, however halt, was as much a victim as a perpetrator — your victim, and Uncle Henchard's." Taren held his father's eyes until he reluctantly nodded. "In so far as it is a rebuke to you, the shrine is not only about women, but about Joren. It … qualifies that effigy, let's say, answering pride and disdain with love and care." His father's gaze dropped. "It was Kel's idea, as an alternative to destroying the effigy or just bricking the whole place up. And you are also aware, I believe, that the custodial rather than capital sentences at the treason trial were her doing."

"Yes. Cavall wrote to me about that. I … was not surprised, once I had thought about it. I said before that she was … generous to me, although I … did not deserve it. Gracious, even."

"Yes, she is both generous and gracious, and she was heartsick of killing. I tell you these things because she too has forgiven Joren, as I have, and Sam and Var. But you, I think, have not."

There was a long silence, in which Taren refreshed their cups, before his father spoke.

"You are correct. I find I cannot. I … gave him _everything_ …"

"You did, yes, the bad as well as the good, and he gave only horror in return. But while you and Uncle Henchard did not mean to do so, in setting him against Kel you set him against the Lord of the Chamber, the gods, and the Timeway. Do you ever wonder if he has forgiven you?"

"Yes." There was a great deal of pain in his father's voice, but he was not flinching from it. "I take leave to doubt it."

"As I do. But that is the Black God's problem, and should be left to him. Your problem is forgiving him, and yourself. And I think your inability to do either is the last bastion of your pride."

There was another silence, Lord Burchard closing his eyes before suddenly nodding.

"You see me clearly. It blinded me, and yet I cling to it even now. What else is left me?"

Taren bit down on his temper, and spoke as gently as he could. "What else, Father? Life, breath, health, and strength. Three living children, and a wife. Two strong arms. Which is really why I have forced this conversation today, because you have never offered me any answer to Lord Mithros's stated preference for action over words. I value your work with the hounds, so I have let it ride, but I cannot say the High One will do so." His father stared. "I cannot aver that he will manifest, or that if he does he will have any interest in you, but as he spoke of you when we last talked I would suggest you expect the question."

"Surely there will not be time for such … personal matters?"

"That will depend on whether he stays to dine. I do not count on it, but the invitation was given, through Lord Diamondflame, and places will be set at the High Table." Impatience bubbled, and Taren stood. "It comes down to this, Father, that you told me to heed Kel because she walked with the gods, and it is my gratitude for that one true counsel, and her grace, that has allowed me to forgive you. I have learned to walk with the gods myself, in her shadow and in some measure on my own account. And assuming some do manifest tomorrow, the last thing I can offer you, as your son and as Lord of Stone Mountain, is the chance to begin to learn to do so yourself. But I think you will face a paradox, because before the gods, once proper respect has been given, you need to stand tall and look them in the eye, and for that you will need all your pride to give you the courage — yet that pride is also what you must let go. Think on it. I will expect you for wine before dinner, at the seventh bell, but I must leave you now to prepare to greet Their Majesties."

As Taren walked away he spoke briefly to the servant waiting to clear the tea-service, directing that his father not be disturbed until the sixth bell. Whether it would do any good he didn't know, but he had tried, in all honour and what love he could summon, and not having been asked he had _not_ told his father what the _kanji_ hung around the tea-house meant, nor that a wry Kel, more amused that he had actually done it than by the words themselves, had told him Lord Sakuyo had laughingly approved. He wondered what divine jest there might be tomorrow, and found he was genuinely looking forward to finding out.

To welcome so many cheerful guests to Stone Mountain was a pleasure, and to welcome Their Majesties as imminent parents-in-law a mildly terrifying privilege, the King's hard stare keeping his greeting of Lianne to a fierce handclasp and a murmur of encouragement while the Crown Couple smiled sympathetically. Princes Liam and Jasson had been left deputing in Corus, but Roald would support him as a groomsman, with Sam, while Princess Vania was joining Var as a bridesmaid amid many jokes about their chiming names. To welcome Piers and Ilane was also wonderful, and they were much fussed over by his mother and aunt, to whom they had been more than kind in Corus but to welcome Kel and Dom to his fief at last was something more, for Sam and Var as much as for him, and to know her embrace as heartfelt as his own a calming grace. She eased him to arm's length, a question in her eyes.

"All well, Taren?"

"As may be, Kel." She had known what he had set himself to do today, and he shrugged. "I said what I felt I had to. The rest is up to him."

"And Lord Mithros."

"Indeed." Taren grinned. "Though I have been wondering what Lord Sakuyo might also have to say."

"Hush." Kel shook her head. "His Nibs was in a good mood last time I saw him, in spring, but there's no point offering hostages to fortune."

He nodded, and she introduced her striking Yamani niece, Lady Akemi noh Akaneru, now a Guild apprentice at New Hope, moving on to Sam and Var, while he and Blue greeted Dom, Tobe, and Irnai before looking up at the patient immensity of Lord Jadewing.

"Be welcome, my lord, on your return to Stone Mountain."

 _It is good to see you again, Taren of Stone Mountain. You continue to do much of interest._

"Thank you, my lord. I try." He looked down again. "And welcome to you also, Journeydragons Lady Skysong and Lady Icefall."

 _Hello, Taren. You have grown. And hello to you, darking Blue._

 _Hello, Taren, and Blue, and thank you for inviting me. It has been an interesting trip, and we have learned much already._

Taren waited for Blue to squeak return greetings.

"Male mortals of my age tend to fill out somewhat, Lady Skysong, and you are welcome, Lady Icefall. I am glad it has been a good journey for you, and honoured you would make it. But forgive me, I must greet my other guests."

And greet them he did — Daine and Numair, Alanna and Baron George, Lords Wyldon, Imrah, and Dagal, His Grace of Wellam, Archdivine Holloran, Sir Neal and Lady Yukimi, Sir Owen and Lady Margarry, Lord Raoul and Lady Buri of Goldenlake, Svein, Olimiaju, Geraint and other friends, fellow-councillors, nobles, commoners, and immortals, with several ambassadors (including a _very_ deferential Gallan) thrown in either to acknowledge Stone Mountain's importance or in sheer curiosity. A part of him wondered happily at the ever-increasing breadth of his acquaintance and the still unexpected gifts of friendship, while another part noted those councillors and nobles who were despite everything surprised at his genuine pleasure in the company of the Weavers, with local Protector's Maids, the couples whose mule-stud he had bankrolled, a number of veterans, and others he had helped to help themselves. There was also an engulfing hug from Ragnar Ragnarsson, grinning very widely and speaking Scanran fast enough to make Taren glad he'd been punctilious in practicing with Sam and Var.

"Jorvik is very sorry he couldn't come, but someone has to mind Hamrkeng, so I am sent to represent the Council as well as Somalkt. He sends warm regards and good wishes to you and Princess Lianne, and renews his invitation to visit Scanra properly, which I second." Thick eyebrows waggled. "We hardly recognise ourselves these days, we are so very civilised and peaceful. In Hamrkeng we even remembered to put in the plumbing and sewers _before_ we paved the streets."

Taren grinned, having gleaned from spellmirror conversations with Kel and Dom both the deep suspicions there had been in some Scanran quarters when she began voluntarily tithing from the mine at Pakkai Corner, and the quite incidental but chastening and very widespread effects of her timely warning about the imminent gods' and dragons' great Chaos hunt, which had by all accounts been something to see, and then run away from as fast as possible. It had also _worked_ , recovering what Kel said Lord Diamondflame had called a deep pool of Chaos-taint, and leaving Scanra distinctly less fractious.

"Maybe, Ragnar, when all this is over, assuming the fief stays quiet. I'd like to travel more than I've been able to these last few years, and though I shall have to see how Lianne feels about it a northern trip would delight Var, who's desperate to see the completed side-channels on the Vassa as well as this Vassa–Drell link Kel's been talking about."

"The side-channels are amazing, and worth a trip in themselves, but the other!" Ragnar shook his head. "Vanget haMinch told me he pointed out to Kel that there is a _mountain_ in the way, and she asked what difference that made? He says his head is still spinning."

"He's exaggerating, Ragnar, as you know perfectly well." Kel joined them, with young Lalasa, reclaimed from a maid, on her hip and peering interestedly around. "It's only a hill, not a mountain, height makes no odds to a tunnel anyway, and it'll pull lots of Gallan trade onto the Vassa. Vanget just enjoys pretending to be shocked." She dropped back into Tortallan. "Taren, I was sent by Var to say that your mother's anxious to get people inside and settled."

He didn't roll his eyes, but Kel grinned all the same.

"She would be. There's nothing scheduled until drinks before dinner, but if I may I'll collect you and Dom a quarter-mark earlier — there's something you should see. You too, actually, Ragnar."

"There is?"

Kel gave him a suspicious look and he showed her empty hands.

"Nothing bad, I promise."

His mother was fretting without real reason, but understandably enough, and there was no harm in keeping things moving, so after speaking to her and Aunt Lily he chivvied gently, and a swarm of servants saw guests to their rooms to freshen up and politely made sure they knew when and where they should reassemble before dinner. Steward Thalric had long adjusted to Taren's preference for relative informality, and actually rather approved, but with Master Oakbridge's aid was very happy to bring a certain stateliness to such a distinguished and royal occasion, and Taren left them to it. With Lord Jadewing to take care of any lack of room, immortals were also invited to eat in the great hall, but in general those visiting were being looked after by resident basilisks, ogres, and stormwings, with a large area of the walled gardens set aside, and Taren checked all was well there, and that they too knew when and where to be next, before going to bathe and change.

His personal habits remained more austere than not, but with Mrs Weaver's skills to draw on he had found a pleasure in excellent though not ostentatious clothing, and had fine new outfits both for tonight and tomorrow. The King had decided, mildly apologetically, that the wedding was insufficient occasion to raise his rank so soon after his accession to the Council, but had — at, Taren strongly suspected, Queen Thayet's instigation — dusted off some very old heraldic protocol and decreed that the Stone Mountain sigil worn in the direct line should in future have a golden royal border. His tunic for the morning had it, as (he had been told) did Lianne's wedding-dress, but the one for this evening didn't, though there was room for it to be added, Mrs Weaver not caring for garments that became unwearable after a single use. Drawing it on he let his valet fuss with buttons and make sure no speck of dust marred his person, before letting Blue leap back to his shoulder and going to collect Sam and Var, then Kel and Dom, with an intrigued Tobe, Irnai, and Lady Akemi, as well as a waiting Ragnar, hair and beard splendidly braided. Taren offered compliments that were returned on Mrs Weaver's finest and Lady Akemi's beautiful _kimono_ , and led the way down the main staircase.

"So what is it I need to see, Taren? People saying that always makes my back itch."

"Do people say it often, then?"

Kel looked at him with renewed suspicions. "Often enough. Last time it was Lord Eiji, using the spellmirror relay to show me yet another shrine they'd found at Edo with me as well as Lord Sakuyo on it. He thought I'd appreciate it. At least I was kneeling, but honestly."

"I thought Lord Sakuyo told you he didn't mind?"

"He did, and he doesn't. I do."

"It's not as though you hear the prayers though, love." Dom patted Kel's arm consolingly. "And it's very good for the pilgrim trade."

"Except they shouldn't be coming to see _me_ in the first place."

Tobe, on Kel's other side, grinned at him. "Ma just thinks she ought to be grumpy about it. You should have heard her when Eiji asked if he could send some erring _kamunushi_ to learn better."

"Dropping me into Yaman to fix it was bad enough, Tobe. Dropping Yamanis into New Hope for the same reason is outside of enough."

Taren had considerable sympathy for that view, and suspected Lady Akemi shared it, but they had reached the doors of the Great Hall, thrown back by the guards, and he paused, meeting Kel's gaze.

"Well, it's nothing as bad as that, Kel, but it is an image of you, or rather, all of you, save Lady Akemi. You're not being heroic, though — just happy, which Stone Mountain needs."

Not waiting for a reply he led them all in, turning to gesture. The tapestry hung on the end-wall above the daïs for the high table, a full thirty feet by twenty, and it was finer than Taren had ever dared to hope, a source of true pleasure whenever he saw it. Mage-lights set in the ceiling illuminated the rich colours and revealed the fullness and balance of the composition, but what made it exceptional were the visible faces, in which the life and joy so evident in the original sketch had been truly captured. Not for the first time Taren was also aware of a faint sense of silver surrounding Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, gleaming on the nap of his antlers and the flow of her dress, and extending to Wuodan and Frige as well as making a shimmer around Kel and Dom, gazing at one another with adoration. Their Majesties and Piers and Ilane were just as fine, clearly delighted beyond measure with the proceedings, and immortals had also come out exceptionally well, basilisks' hides having a pearly sheen, Lord Diamondflame's scales a blueness as much felt as seen, and the steel of stormwings' feathers the flickering hues of reflection. Tobe and Irnai were also clearly recognisable, as were Neal and Lady Yukimi, and Ragnar, hair glinting in sunlight. There was a long silence that Taren eventually broke himself, speaking to Kel and Dom though all listened.

"You've seen the sketch at the townhouse, and I commissioned the Weavers' Guild before I first came to New Hope. It's taken a while, but I think it has had some blessings — Lord Sakuyo, I imagine, given his concern with art. The Weavers' Guild will be presenting a smaller copy to you when you're back home, and Tomas tells me it's just as good. He also has a miniature for Mrs Weaver, but he hasn't said anything about that one, at least to me."

The gaze Kel turned on him was as intent as he'd ever felt from her, potent and amazed.

"But why, Taren? It should be you and Lianne up there, remaking your fief, not Dom and me."

"Without you, Kel, nothing. Stone Mountain will know and remember what it owes." He waved a hand. "Yes, it pokes the past in the eye, and there's the political effect on some guests, but those are neither here nor there, however I'm looking forward to one or two reactions. The lessons that matter to me are that if you can survive walking with the gods, you can find happiness, and your mutual joy. The examples of marriage Sam, Var, and I had were _vile_ — disdain and infidelity, domination and abuse. Power used to the full, without the least integrity or love or even simple care to check it. It is from you and Dom, and your parents, that we all learned what a marriage could and should be, and the tapestry will every day remind Lianne and me, and our children if we are blessed with them, of what we should strive for. So perhaps it is a shrine of sorts, after all, but to promote respect and a striving to follow, not worship."

Clearly moved, Kel briefly rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm honoured, Taren. A bit baffled too, mind." Her smile was wry. "There seem to be far too many pictures of me about, one way and another, but I can't say I don't like this one. And it has Dom as well, which is a great improvement."

"Hardly." Dom grinned. "But it is our honour, Taren. I warn you, though, that Neal will wave his hands a lot at the idea of being immortalised at Stone Mountain."

"He's welcome."

Dom and Ragnar laughed, and the latter thumped Taren's shoulder.

"It is magnificent, Taren — the best tapestry I have ever seen. We do good rugs in Scanra, but nothing like this."

"Taren is right that it has been blessed." Irnai turned to him, her smile slightly fey. "Shakith says she likes it."

"She does? Please give her my respects."

"I like it, too." Tobe was still studying the image. "It's good to see you just being happy, Ma. You should try it more often."

"Should I, Tobe? I am happy, you know."

"Yes, but you worry too much."

"Comes with the job, I'm afraid. Ask Taren."

"True enough, Kel, but Tobe's not wrong. And my only problem just now is that everyone will be assembling in a few minutes, so I must head to the reception room."

He and Sam left them to contemplation, Kel saying something Yamani to a wide-eyed Lady Akemi and Var staying as host and guide, and found his mother and Aunt Lily, dressed to the nines, surveying the immaculate room with an air of faint anxiety while servants hovered.

"Is all well, dears? I _think_ we have everything properly ready."

"I'm sure we do, Mama. You and Aunt Lily have been wonderful, but do please remember to enjoy yourselves as well. It's all meant to be a celebration, not an ordeal."

"We'll try, dear." His mother offered a far stronger smile than she could have managed four years ago. "Keladry didn't mind the tapestry?"

"Not at all. Dom was pleased too, and the others." A noise at the door alerted him, and the steward announced Nond and Imrah. "My lords, be welcome. A drink?"

After that guests came in a rush, with locals he had invited, and if there were some cries of alarm when Lord Jadewing let himself in, the ancient stone of the doorway stretching alarmingly, there was also a lot of high good humour. Even among the nobles many had never been to Stone Mountain before, and there was a good deal of friendly curiosity, directed at Sam and Var as much as at him and Blue, while those who had seen it in his father's day were pleasantly surprised by the visible changes to the landscape and a very different atmosphere, as well as décor. Though her father would take her in to dinner, Lianne circulated with him, and there was a pleasing sense not simply of working in tandem but of truly beginning to forge a mutual identity. He was able to murmur some salient facts about those of Stone Mountain seeking to ingratiate themselves, or just overly proud of his new connection, and she was with him when he encountered his father again, as austere as promised but keeping his word about being polite. They had nothing left to say to one another — though that might change tomorrow, Taren fancied — and after the slightly awkward greetings with Lianne, Taren steered him to Lord Wyldon and Sir Owen, always happy to talk dogs.

When they all went through to dinner there was a moment when Lord Burchard, escorting his wife and sister-in-law with a careful respect that mattered greatly to both women, stopped dead, looking around the far brighter and more welcoming space and staring at the tapestry, before giving Taren a single deep nod that acknowledged much. Most of the guests were too busy staring themselves to notice, even the immortals, and Neal was indeed waving his arms, but as Taren led Their Majesties to their places the King spoke quietly.

"Congratulations on dealing with your father, Taren, in such an odd situation. Have you had any problems?"

"Not really, sire. None that are new, at any rate, though _he_ may have one of those tomorrow. It depends who turns up."

"Ah. That is _so_ not my business, I devoutly hope. And that tapestry is a very clever touch, as well as marvellous work."

"Thank you. For me it speaks to the joy my father has always lacked, and to union, but I confess that when I ordered it I was still busy breaking with the past."

"Huh. Well, you have surely done that, in considerable style. Like your memorials, come to think of it." A very royal smile crossed Jonathan's face. "And though as Lianne's father I dare say I shall go right on glaring at you, please don't doubt that kingly me is happy with this marriage. It's going to be very good for Tortall."

Taren digested that approval with a growing pleasure while immortals settled in groups in the additional space surrounding Lord Jadewing at the far end of the hall, low perches were provided for Queen Thalia and her flock, and food began to be served. It could not of course match New Hope's, but it was very good even so, and there was plenty of it. Courses came and went, with appropriate wines, and though Taren drank sparingly he later found he needed Blue's help to make his memories of the evening more than a mosaic — a solemn discussion with Duke Turomot, frailer but as upright as ever, about the judicial use of stormwings Thayet hooting laughter at a scurrilous tale of Alanna's about an inept elopement at Olau Var all but interrogating Ragnar about the side-channels on the Vassa and the complexities of water-flow between up- and down-basins a rippling silence around Kel when she cheerfully told a boggling Archdivine Holloran that it was indeed true she had now led the Wild Hunt several times, at Wuodan's and Frige's invitation, mostly to chastise men who thought drunken might made right, irritating the Green Lady, partly to feed stormwings, and partly to give the hounds some much-needed exercise, Lord Weiryn approving all three aims Lord Jadewing gravely praising the remarkable accuracy with which Lord Diamondflame's back and scales were shown in the tapestry and, heartstoppingly overheard amid the crossflow of conversation, his father informing Lord Wyldon that he had no regrets about abdicating, found solitude far more pleasant than society, and believed Taren to be doing a better job than he had ever managed. Kel heard that too and gave him a concerned look, but he found himself neither elated nor resentful, only pleased in an oddly distant way that his father had managed to move beyond contempt, if not yet pride.

With the last desserts removed and many cheese-boards circulating, he rose to thank everyone for coming and, conscious of Kel's and Dom's feastday-eve practice, remind them all of the schedule for tomorrow.

"Breakfast will be available from an hour after dawn, and Her Royal Higness and I will be receiving gifts in the morning, from the second bell. The ceremony of dedication will begin at noon, and for those of you who have yet to see it the new temple is about a mile from the town gate. Unless something horrible happens to the weather we shall be walking there and back, leaving here one mark before noon, but Lord Jadewing has graciously offered to shorten the way for those who might find the walk taxing. Do please take advantage if you need to."

 _Indeed. It is no problem for me, and I am happy to help any in need._

"Thank you, my lord." Draconic mindspeech was so very bracing. "Archdivine Holloran will conduct the dedication, while Her Royal Highness and I, with Lord Saman and Lady Varia, make the offerings." He gave a smile Lianne later told him was quite unnerving. "Thereafter timing is necessarily contingent, but the marriage ceremony will follow as soon as may be, with the Countess-Protector officiating, of her grace and by our joint request." There was much surprised murmuring that he ignored. "And once we have returned here everyone is at leisure, with refreshments available, until dinner at the sixth bell, here in the hall, which will then be cleared for dancing. I hope we have anticipated all needs, but should anyone wish for anything please do not hesitate to ask any liveried servant. For tonight, refreshment tables are set up in the reception room and gardens."

He had debated with Lianne what else needed saying, and took a deep breath, very conscious of the tapestry on the wall behind him.

"Beyond these practicalities, there are some formal and heartfelt thanks I would offer while I have the chance, and two toasts I would propose. Inheriting young and under unusual circumstances, I have depended on my siblings, Lord Saman and Lady Varia, and on my mother and aunt, and I thank them all for their love and strengths. But I have also received extremely generous support from people who had no kin obligation yet went far out of their ways to help me, and six especially — His Grace of Wellam, a clear and unflinching voice in a time of bewildering pressure Commander Svein of Hannalof, who deputised wisely and well that I might travel when I needed to Their Graces of Mindelan, who have taught me more and more kindly than I can say and Countess Keladry and Count Domitan of New Hope, whose gifts and graces I cannot begin to express. So I would ask you to join me first in a toast acknowledging their blessings on Stone Mountain."

He named them all again, bowing, and guests rose to drink their healths and long lives, Taren watching his father do so with another kick of anticipation. Setting his glass down, he deliberately shifted register, the informality causing another ripple of surprise.

"As most of you will know, Kel is allergic to praise, but I am for once going to risk it, because there is one thing that Lianne and I agree needs to be said this night. Three years ago, the late and entirely unlamented lord of Aussonne inflicted his idiocies upon Lianne, and us all, and were it not for the political and military miracle that Kel pulled out of thin air at no notice, the ceremony tomorrow, if it were happening at all, would be a very different event. Many beings vitally contributed to that miracle, and Lianne and I have privately thanked Lords Rainbow Windheart and Diamondflame, with other dragons, Var'istaan and other basilisks, and Numair. But it was Kel who had trained and co-ordinated immortal and mortal magics and military skill, and Kel alone who saw what might be done, as it was Kel alone who _could_ have done it. As Wuodan, of the Wild Hunt, remarked at the time, distance and a wall were in Kel's way, so she arranged for dragons to remove one and basilisks the other and as Lord Mithros remarked while observing, she conducted the fastest siege in history, in twenty-three minutes, less than one percent of the previous mark."

Kel was glowering at him amid a profound silence, and he returned a sweet smile.

"Not much more, Kel, but if you will save people and nations from war, we will be properly thankful, knowing ourselves greatly blessed to live in the Time of the Protector." The glower intensified, but Lady Skysong looked approving, the King was grinning, and on Their Majesties' other side Lianne rose. "So Lianne and I now ask our families, our family as it will become tomorrow, to rise to honour and thank Countess Keladry of New Hope and Mindelan, Clanchief Hléoburh, Protector of the Small, twice-over Tortall's saviour, and ours."

Taren felt another odd flicker of anticipation as his father rose without hesitation, matching his mother and aunt, Sam and Var, Their Majesties, and Their assorted Royal Highnesses. He had wondered if the King would feel compelled to add his own noblesworth, but really, he had said everything that was needed, and raised his glass, waiting for them all to do so and feeling the awareness of what it meant for _her_ to be honoured in this hall, no voice dissenting.

"Kin by blood and marriage, I give you Countess Keladry!"

If the loud and prolonged cheer that followed did nothing to soothe Kel, it pleased Taren, Sam, and Var immensely.

The weather stayed fair, with blue skies and a playful breeze to take the edge off the August heat. One of the many ways in which Stone Mountain now followed New Hope's disciplines was in weapons training, so Taren and Lianne had been up at dawn, finding Kel had more or less forgiven them for embarrassing her. She was as graceful as ever with her glaive, sparring with Thayet, Shinkokami, Lady Akemi, and her mother after pattern-dancing, and over breakfast offered Captain Horgan and Vesker both praise for and thoughtful comments on the routines and benefits of cross-training.

The matter of wedding-gifts had been oddly thorny. There was little if anything that he or Lianne actually needed, and he had been tempted to ask people to make a charitable donation in lieu, but his mother had been mildly scandalised at the idea, while Lianne thought it would do people good to have to rack their brains, and that the results might be interesting, if not useful. He wasn't entirely sure that covered some items — there was a remarkably ugly set of silver candlesticks from Nond, and jewellery he doubted Lianne would ever wear from several sources — but there were fine linens and crocks, blankets and rugs, cases of wine, glassware, and the like that were assured of good homes, as well as a variety of books, and a few gifts that were more than useful. The pair of young hounds Lord Wyldon presented, on his own behalf and Sir Owen's, did not have mindspeech but carried the blood of the Wild Hunt and had eyes sharp with intelligence, while the yearling colt Lord Imrah presented had the classic lines and Pangare Bay colouring of the Yamani emperor's stud. Kel's and Dom's thoughts had also turned to Yaman, the _naginata_ and _shukusen_ (matching Var's) that they presented to Lianne taking her breath away with their purity of balance, but with thanks given Kel looked at Taren with a complicated expression.

"I have mixed feelings about this one, Taren, and you'll see why, but Dom insisted you'd appreciate it almost as much as he does."

Dom gave her a look. "And understand it, love. If you recall the tale, Tar, Your Royal Highness, on _that_ night in Yaman there was a moment when Kel spoke of the justice demanded on Kit's behalf by her elders, and Lord Fujiwara scornfully demanded that they appear — just as they did so, in numbers."

Taren nodded. "Blue, Silk, and Petal have shown us what happened. You laughed, Kel, at … the severity of the irony, I suppose."

"Something like that, Taren. Fujiwara was so very blind in what he found it convenient to disbelieve. Presuming on dragons capped it all, and handed me a perfect cue." She shrugged. "It made His Nibs laugh too."

Taren nodded again, unsure where this was going. "I would imagine so, Kel. Not just mortal irony, then?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I'd suspect the Timeway before the gods on this one."

It was Dom's turn to shrug as he opened a small but heavy-looking box on his knee and removed some inner padding. "That's beyond me, Tar, but what I saw was Lord Fujiwara justly drawn into Lord Sakuyo's fatal jest, just as witlessly as Lord Hidetaki, and what I heard was Kel laughing with the gods, and almost as terribly. Lord Sakuyo said as much in Edo, and for all Kel demurred and he admitted he was exaggerating a bit he must have meant it because he and Lord Gainel between them inspired a Yamani carver of soapstones. This is an icelight copy, Tar, Your Royal Highness, because nothing would get me to part with the original, but Numair and Var'istaan between them worked out how to make an exact replica, and it has the same impact. I also think it's right you have it, and the more so having seen that tapestry — you can call it another image of Kel for your collection. Or maybe your tea-house."

Taren blinked, trying to follow the thought, but felt his heart stutter as Dom handed him the box and he saw what was within. The irregular lump looked like red-veined soapstone, not icelight, the dense colouring making it opaque, but it must have been exposed to light recently, for it glowed softly and in the stone, face somehow as marvellously alive as in the tapestry, Kel laughed a terrible laugh that knew mortal foolishness and offence, and a justice painfully beyond irony. Her voice came softly.

"The carver also dreamed its name, which is _The Burden_."

He turned the word in his mind as his hand sought Lianne's, and nodded.

"Yes — both refrain and a weight to make us bow." Things clicked in his mind, and he looked up at Kel. "Was that the first time you understood that gods laugh for the same reason dragons dance?"

Her smile was dazzling. "Not the first, Taren, but the clearest to date. More Yamanis than Tortallans get it — there's a Sakuyan proverb that advises one to laugh before one dies — but understanding the principle isn't the same as feeling it in divine action. Your call, but Dom's right it goes with the _kanji_ in that tea-house, which say the same thing."

"Ah." Lianne's hand tightened on his. "Thank you, Keladry. I was … concerned when I first saw those and Tar told me what they meant, but _that_ makes sense. And yesterday Lord Burchard sat there, and from Tar's account failed even to notice the _kanji_ , never mind asking what they meant. Gods! Does it get any easier?"

"Not really, Lianne, but one grows … used to it, maybe. And the gods and the Timeway serve it up in, I don't know, different flavours. Joren was more a matter of the Timeway, I think, though the Goddess was growing very weary of such men, and the elemental was involved too. Even so, he was a ruined child, and however lost himself an example of what the Timeway no longer wished to accept. But when grace is offered, as it was at Aussonne and Hléodréam, that is always the gods alone, as far as I can tell." Kel sighed. "The real problem is those who _will_ not see, regardless. Tar, Sam, and Var all think that even in death Joren will have remained … unrelenting, unreconciling, prouder than sorry to have died for his beliefs, and never even remotely accepting of how false and skewed they were. And I don't disagree — the dead aren't very good at changing their minds, though they can learn, if they will. The living, though … well, I'll say only that Lord Burchard does _not_ have any of Joren's excuses, and I agree with Tar that today he may find his continuing failure pointed out to him in terms even he cannot ignore."

Taren and Lianne both nodded, hands still entwined.

"Odds on, Kel." Taren looked at the stone face transfigured by laughter and light. "But let's try laughing before we scream, eh?"

"Surely." Kel grinned. "And there is one other thing, for which we'll need to find a quiet half-mark later on, because I have some more darkings who are ready for different lessons. One is for you, Lianne, if you will accept the charge."

"Oh. Gladly, Keladry, but Papa will be _very_ put out."

Kel grinned. "Not to fret — I have one for him that Daine and I have specially trained in what we called royal ethics, and others for Thayet, Roald and Shinko, Liam, Jasson, and Vania. Daichi- _shushou_ , Reiko, and Taikyuu as well, and perhaps Emperor Kaddar and Empress Kalasin, though we'll have to talk about that one." Kel sighed a little. "The ban was so they couldn't be abused as spies, but they're much more mature now as a kind, and it no longer makes sense. Thanks to Tar and Blue, with others, they know quite a lot about noble rule, and the gods know they've heard enough of my views about royal necessity. Time to add the perspective from the other side of the fence."

Taren took that under mild advisement, thinking that Kel had a fairly regnal view herself when she wanted it, but realised she was also defusing a potential problem by ensuring that Lianne was not made to feel excluded by the bonds between Blue, Petal, and Silk. Lianne saw it too, and their thanks were warm, but Kel only waved a hand.

"You'll be good for them, as they will be for you. I just thought you could do without the distraction today, especially if you do have some extra guests."

On Taren's collar Blue stirred.

 _Fun?_

"Probably. If you squint."

Quite how Kel, in a gorgeous red dress, persuaded His Grace of Wellam to join Nond, Archdivine Holloran, and other older guests in using the gateway Lord Jadewing provided Taren was never sure, but he was relieved and grateful. The whole route, within the town walls and beyond them, was lined with people, bunting, and flags, and if the evident celebration and good cheer was welcome it did all add to the strain, and the day's building heat. He expected Lianne to use a gateway to spare her dress, but she had instead dispensed with a train, asking Mrs Weaver to cut the hem to conceal a pair of sturdy sandals, and walked beside him, on her father's arm, trailed by Vania and Var in dresses that echoed hers. Roald and Sam were behind him, their tunics also through Mrs Weaver's skills coordinated with his, its new golden border gleaming. Even without immortals the procession was several hundred yards long, but they made good time, even if some guests were left a little pink, and the exclamations as the temple dome and pillars became visible were very gratifying. Archdivine Holloran was waiting in the outer precinct to greet them, with a beaming Fordel and subdued Tover, and gave Taren a surprising bow.

"This is an exceptional design, my lord, and the statues are very fine." The old man gave a warm smile. "There have been many dedications in the last three years, often welcoming Lord Sakuyo, but this is by far the most spectacular temple I have seen, and the first to include a shrine to the Graveyard Hag."

There was a question in his voice, and Taren shrugged delicately.

"She is among those High Ones I have seen twice with my own eyes, Reverence, at Hléodréam, and I would not slight her for the world. Placing her and Dabeyoun with the Black God also means the two double niches are in balance."

"Indeed. I noticed the animals — also beautifully carved. But I should not keep everyone waiting."

Slowly they processed into the temple proper, and as the space filled the real excellence of Master Geraint's and Var's design became clear : the glass dome allowed bright sunlight to fall across the upper bands of rock while the open entry, sheer height, and cool depths of stone kept the temperature at ground level pleasant ; the curvature acted to focus all on niches and plinth, and even with the dedication yet to be done the sense of a sacred space, a little other to the world outside, was strong.

Protocol was another matter, but he and Lianne had both felt strongly she should participate in the dedication, and Kel had happily agreed they should devise whatever formal order suited them. Having seen the royal and Mindelan–New Hope parties to the sections reserved for them, they therefore stood together on the plinth, looking out at the assembling congregation : it had people finding seats as swiftly as they might, but they both had to take deep breaths, swallowing a desire to laugh, when Lord Jadewing paused just outside the entryway, long neck extending inside as he peered around appreciatively, causing several incoming stormwings to swerve. At last everyone was in and settled, Archdivine Holloran led the local divines forward to the plinth, Sam and Var joined them, and a silence threaded with anticipation fell.

Taren had asked the Archdivine to be as brisk as he could properly be, pointing out that High Ones should not be kept needlessly waiting, and Holloran had given him a sideways look before agreeing, but there were things to be said all the same. Even if the temples did not understand the mechanics, and were largely taking Kel's word for it, they had agreed that the Timeway had indeed turned, and Tortall with it, entering a new time of greater peace and prosperity for which all must be thankful. It was also, plainly and wonderfully, a new time of architecture, and to find that used so cleverly to serve piety was a further cause of rejoicing, thanks being owed to Lady Varia, Master Geraint, and the Craftsbeings' Guild. And while the mix of gods honoured here was unusual, Lord Taren's criterion was unimpeachable, if a surprise to many the extensions of Lord Weiryn's and the Green Lady's sphere southwards, as of the Graveyard Hag's northward, were welcome and the inclusions of Dabeyoun, Wuodan, and Frige set a most interesting precedent. If a degree of nervy anticipation threaded Holloran's piety no-one remarked on it, and he soon turned, bowing to the shrines, and invited the libation-bearers to proceed.

Taren had done some hard thinking about what was right, and what necessary, and decided he had to be involved at every shrine but others might rotate. Lianne joined him for the first offering, at the shrine open to all gods, and after Holloran's brief but properly inclusive words they went forward to pour out grain and wine — no great quantity of either, but the best quality he could command. The additional offering here had been a poser, until Fordel — who really was of far more use than Tover — had diffidently suggested a short poem he knew from a far southern childhood that asked for the blessing of any god who heard it. Taren had had a scroll done, and he and Lianne read it aloud together, enjoying the twining of their voices, before placing it in the niche. Chimes sounded, high and sweet, echoing from rock as silver rimmed the niche and symbol within, flaring slightly before settling to a steady glow.

"Ah." Holloran contemplated the shrine for a second before bowing, turning, and raising his voice. "The gods hear us and extend their blessings. Once I would have told you all to kneel or fall flat, honouring the presence of the divine, but I have of late been taught better and instead ask you to stand, and to bow or curtsey as chimes sound to assure us of divine regard."

No-one dissented, and there were some looks of strong approval as all stood, Their Graces of Wellam and Mindelan both nodding sharply, and Lord Burchard catching Taren's eye as he stood, and offering a fractional bow to which he returned an inclination of his head. Then they crossed to Lord Gainel's niche, Holloran spoke, and Sam joined him to pour grain, also placing the extra offering, a relief carving by the Gallan master of two stormwings bracketing a sleeping figure with a peaceful face. Chimes rang again as silver gleamed, tinging the statue's eyes, and a breeze suddenly sweet with the scent of blossom whispered in the air.

Matters repeated with Lady Shakith's niche, where Var joined him and the extra offering was (on Irnai's advice) a hawk's retrix petrified into jet-black obsidian so sharp it had to be handled very carefully, but this time the High One's voice sounded, that distant hawk's scream echoing in the space while silver pulsed and again for Lord Sakuyo's, Var once more joining him to pour grain and, once he had poured wine, set down a beautiful small model of the _kanji_ -house she had designed, the lines of _sui_ gleaming. The chimes were achingly pure, and the booming laugh behind them no less resonant in heart and gut. As the echoes faded he saw Shinko step forward, her expression more joyful than not, and they waited for her to acknowledge the creation of many Sakuyan blesseds, promising that appropriate tokens would be sent — such a presence at Stone Mountain being another matter Taren had not quite imagined, but found he anticipated with some pleasure.

Then it was the turn of the Black God and Graveyard Hag, in the first of the double-width niches, and Holloran managed to sound genuinely appreciative of the presence of the Hag and her servants. The gifts had again been truly challenging, and Kel had for once not been of much help, telling him she had enough trouble thinking of things to give the Black God on her own behalf Taren had eventually, with Lianne's agreement as well as Sam's and Var's, settled on the best drawing the Protector's Maid in Corus could manage, from darking display, of Anna of Nicoline's spirit casting Lord Biron's at the feet of the High One. With grain and wine poured, Lianne laid that down, he added an eye-patch embroidered in silver with the outline of _Le Pendu Pierreux_ for the Hag, and Sam placed two small and grinning skulls of carved bone for Dabeyoun and the rat. No-one had known whether Dabeyoun might speak under such circumstances, though the Hag did for Carthaki dedications, but behind the echoing chimes there was only that sharply remembered sough of the wind through trees and the underlying silence that burned in the ear. The silver that rimmed the shrine and statues, though, extended to Dabeyoun, and lingered in his eyes as much as in the gods'.

Somewhat oddly, to Taren's mind, Holloran seemed more nervous of Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, or perhaps of Wuodan and Frige, than of any of the others, and his words stressed a welcome in territory beyond their usual lands as well as the blessing of their daughter, but for Taren their shrine was the most straightforward. He had by now acquired several stormwing egg-blades, and with Queen Thalia's ironic assent two had been mounted in hafts of the best steel Stone Mountain made, one that he set down to serve as a fletching-tool, and one Lianne placed that had a longer handle and was intended for kitchen uses. Wuodan and Frige, ever practical, had been a harder challenge, allowing that food, however it might be welcomed, really would not do, but he had discovered from Olimiaju that Master Earfiller, twitted by a basilisk about needless length, had produced a rebuking haiku in Old Ogric that might — perhaps — be rendered in Tortallan as _You quite lack the time / to grasp my simplicity, / swifter than all stone_ , and laid down a handsomely calligraphed copy with both the Old Ogric and Tortallan versions. Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady did not have voices as the great gods did, so he had expected only the chimes, but as their resonance faded two loud barks sounded, echoing from the rock. Holloran looked startled, but Taren only grinned at Lianne and urged the archdivine on to the last pair of shrines.

For the Great Goddess they all participated. Once Holloran had spoken, praising all aspects of the High One, Sam pouring the grain for him to wet with wine, Lianne setting down another wonderful Maid's drawing, of Kel and Alanna grinning at one another, and Var a spiral finely worked in gold. Taren had wondered about alluding to Joren, but decided the smaller shrine took care of that and there was no need to recall him here. The chimes were a little louder, the flare of silver a little brighter as the moiling of hounds echoed from the rock, and when they moved on to Lord Mithros exaltation joined nerves and reverence in Holloran's voice as he praised the god of war and justice. The final gifts were a balance wrought in gold, the hanging counterweights a perfectly matched pair of swords, and a dagger that Taren left sheathed : made at New Hope, from stormwing down it had taken Numair's skills _and_ dragonfire to melt, the blade retained down's properties and would cut anything, while hilt and sheath were of Stone Mountain's best steel bound with leather. As he laid it down and began to step back the loudest chimes yet rang out and as that distant fury of battle filled the air silver flared dazzlingly all around the arc of shrines, forcing them all back with watering eyes. Beside him Holloran stumbled, and he lent the arm not shielding his eyes to support the old man until he could stand again, blinking away tears.

No god stood before Lord Gainel's or the open niches, but the others were all present, and so were Wuodan, Frige, and Dabeyoun, tongue lolling. Holloran went to his knees, face transfigured as he gazed up at Lord Mithros, Tover and Fordel with him, and Taren heard the audience kneel too, but he, Lianne, Sam, and Var offered only the deepest bows and curtseys they could manage before facing the gods.

"High Ones, our fullest thanks for your blessings and the honour of your presences. Be welcome here and in our hearts, now and always."

"And so we are, Taren of Stone Mountain." Lord Mithros's voice was mellow as he gazed around. "This is a pleasing temple, and your work with the Craftsbeings' Guild to be commended, Varia of Stone Mountain."

"Truly said, brother." The Goddess also sounded cheerful, her hounds distant. "You have all done well."

"Your gifts today are a cut above, also." Lord Mithros held the down-knife, and was smiling. "This is a genuinely useful tool, well thought on."

"Thank you, my lord, but as you must know the skill of its making was Master Numair's and Lord Jadewing's."

"Indeed, but yours was the thought and the asking. And as not all of my brothers and sisters can stay for long, if you would have us witness your wedding you had best get on with it."

Taren had imagined having to induce dispatch in others, not being chivvied himself, but Lord Sakuyo's eyes were laughing, Wuodan gave him an equally amused look, and the Hag was now wearing the gifted eyepatch, silver outline catching the light. He took a deep breath.

"At once, High Ones. Do please all come to the plinth." As he turned he used one hand to lift Holloran to his feet, his eyes seeking those whom he needed. "Time to make space, Reverence. You too, Tover. Fordel, the necklaces and brazier at once, please. Bridesmaid and Groomsman to the plinth, please, and all close kin acting as witnesses. Kel, you're on."

He was aware of gods climbing steps behind him but his eyes were on Kel as she rose, one eyebrow high but smiling, and spread her arms to gesture the royal and Stone Mountain parties forward. The King's and Queen's faces were austere, royal dignity prevailing, but Roald and Shinko, and Vania, showed more exaltation and nervousness, and his mother and aunt were clearly having to steel themselves. Kel went to them, speaking too softly for him to hear, and he saw them draw on her calm and resolution, faces relaxing as they moved, but his attention snapped back to Kel, extending a commanding hand to his father, who still knelt as if paralysed, face still but eyes wide with longing.

"Rise, Lord Burchard. Whatever comes of it, you will now support your son on his marriage, witnessing as a father should."

It was an absolute command, brooking no demur, and his father rose, fear touching his face before it stilled again and he moved forward.

"Protector."

It was spoken quietly with a slight bow as he passed Kel, but everyone heard and Taren's stomach tightened as he fought the desire to examine expressions, turning to face Lianne and reaching for her hands in wordless reassurance that her own tight grip returned. They had to stand aside as new arrivals bowed or curtsied to High Ones, all remembering to include Wuodan, Frige, and Dabeyoun, Var supporting Vania as she did so, and Sam going to support their mother and aunt, both trembling until the Goddess, warmly smiling, praised their work in bringing healing to the fief's women. His father climbed the steps ahead of Kel looking as if he went to his execution, but received only the same simple acknowledgement that all had. For Kel, though, divine attention sharpened, as she greeted each one individually Lord Sakuyo smiled warmly, as did Lord Weiryn and the Green Lady, and Taren suspected she once again saw beneath the Black God's hood, as he did not. Complexity layered Lord Mithros's voice.

"Protector. Your teaching spreads in all realms."

"So I should hope, my lord. And I won't dawdle but I do take the opportunity to thank you in person, and all involved, for acting to clear that Chaos-taint from Scanra. It has made a great and tangible difference."

The High One nodded. "Yes. You were not wrong to chide my delay, Protector, though there were reasons. But I confess there was more taint than I had realised. Uusoae is ever extravagant. And it was another of your absurdly workable solutions." He shook his head, though his voice was still warm. "Working with dragons and dogs, yet. The sunbirds were amused, also, which does not happen often."

"Good to know, my lord, and my thanks to them too, as always, for their light at New Hope. And you will, I am sure, be happy to learn that Lady Skysong thought you were quite wonderfully useful."

"Of course I will." Complexities layered more deeply, irony twining around amusement and perhaps a faint rue. "Quite what _that_ one will be like when she is fully fledged I tremble to imagine. But do you your office now, and we shall stand witness for ourselves."

"Of course, my lord."

During the exchange Fordel had returned with marigold necklaces and brazier, and Taren, Sam, and Var had quietly marshalled people into order. Groomsmen and Bridesmaids stood immediately behind them, with families behind again, and the trio of priests by the brazier, pleasure suffusing Holloran's and Fordel's faces, and blank amazement Tover's. That Kel had to turn her back on all the High Ones seemed to bother neither party in the least, and she gave him and Lianne a dazzling smile before briefly considering the mortal witnesses and the congregation.

"Beyond the great blessing of the High Ones' presence in their new dwelling, this is a day of joyous celebration for many reasons. Tortall rejoices to see Stone Mountain renewed and restored to its rightful place, as the House of Conté rejoices in an alliance formally ending an old rift. The Craftsbeings' Guild rejoices also, glad to serve piety and friends, state and people alike, and to celebrate fruits of co-operation between mortals and immortals. But it is first and foremost the joy and celebration of Lord Taren and Princess Lianne in turning abiding friendship and mutual solace into greater and more deeply loving union. Both enjoy the privileges of natal rank yet never forget or shirk its proper burdens, and both have too young endured and learned from cruel adversity with courage and grace, giving honour, granting toleration, and imposing chastisement where each was due, without fear or favour. Knowing one another's hearts and minds, they choose now to go forward together. Does any being here know of any reason why they should not do so?"

In the brief, ritual pause Kel allowed, Taren appreciated what she had said, and said without saying, seeing the King's and Queen's slightly wry looks and wondering what expression his father's face bore. Then Kel was calling on him and Lianne to make their vows, and for a while he was aware of little save the words to speak and hear, and Lianne's gaze, holding his own with right happiness as well as kindling lust and proper trepidation, until Kel stood back to allow a smiling Lord Mithros and the Great Goddess to place marigold necklaces over their stooped heads. He saw no god gesture but wood in the brazier crackled alight, flames dancing merrily, and Lianne was in his arms, face turned up to give and receive kisses fierce with promise. Silver laced his spinning mind and senses, diffusing into a tingling strength and warmth he knew Lianne shared, and understanding they had been blessed by the High Ones they looked up, offering thanks and finding a great din of cheering about them. Kel's voice was pitched to cut through it, and yet for them alone.

"Facing the congregation would be good, so the High Ones who need to leave can do so."

Taren nodded, feeling quite dazed, and was turning when he realised Lianne had hesitated, looking at Lord Mithros.

"Will your brother of death be staying, my lord?"

A divine eyebrow quirked. "He will not, being ever needed elsewhere."

"Then excuse me one moment, my lord."

He didn't need the tug on his hand to follow her, hearing silence fall as she stopped before the Black God and curtsied. He hastily offered a bow. To Taren the High One's hood was empty of all but a darkness that held his gaze, and yet there was a faint sense of surprise, matched in the corner of one eye by Dabeyoun cocking his head. Lianne spoke for all to hear, yet only to the god.

"I am sorry to detain you, my lord, but while I can I would offer you in person my most heartfelt thanks for your great grace at Aussonne, to Anna of Nicoline, and to me. I understand it was the Protector you most truly graced, with true cause, yet without knowing Anna's forgiveness of my failure of care I doubt I could have come to today's joy, and I would acknowledge in full my debt."

The darkness beneath the hood was unchanged, but a long-fingered hand rested for a second on Lianne's head.

"Your thanks are heard and your debt discharged, Lianne of Conté and Stone Mountain. There must always be regret for a death untimely, yet Anna of Nicoline dwells in peace, and shares your rejoicing this day. Fare you well now."

Silver flared and he was gone, a second flare telling Taren that Lady Shakith had followed, and a cautious glance that others remained. Swallowing, he led Lianne back to the centre of the plinth, to face the congregation and hear, in the thrum of renewed cheering, a new note, resonating in his belly, that he realised he had heard before, directed at Kel, but never at himself. After what felt like an age but was probably less than a minute, he leant towards Lianne, whispered, and tried raising his arms, palms out, finding himself gratified when they quieted. The gods should not be kept waiting, yet something was called for.

"Thank you, one and all, for the honour you do me and our new liegelady, Lianne of Conté and Stone Mountain. We will strive always to requite your trust." Those cheers mattered too, and Lianne squeezed his hand, smiling at the packed crowd, but time pressed and he raised a hand again, enforcing silence before turning. "High Ones, will it please you to dine with us?"

"It will, Taren of Stone Mountain, honouring your bride and your own service." Lord Mithros cocked his head. "There is also another shrine my sister, and my niece of death, would see, and a tea-house my brother of laughter wishes to admire."

"Of course, my lord." Taren looked left. "Lord Weiryn, my lady, is there aught you would wish save time with your family?"

Weiryn waved a hand, robes gleaming. "Only some speech with the priest who will keep these shrines, Taren of Stone Mountain. You extend our range and power, as the Protector has done, and we thank you for it."

"It is my honour, my lord, my lady. Wuodan, Frige, there is meat as well as the best bones we could find, but is there aught else you would have? I would also ask for advice regarding some magnificent hounds we have been given."

 _Meat and bones are good, Taren, and we need nothing more with so many new scents to smell. Your haiku is also appreciated, however unexpected a gift of poetry. And those hounds are like to prove a pawful, so that is wise of you._

Taren nodded, thanking them, and turned again. "Dabeyoun, besides your own meat and bones, is there aught you would have? And I would thank you for your aid in finding a keeper for the shrine of the Black God's miracle at New Hope."

 _No, thank you, Taren, and you are welcome. It was an interesting and sensible request. And like Wuodan and Frige I have new scents to smell._

"He's happy enough, dearie, and I like my eye-patch. Your tea-room _kanji_ gave us a laugh too, so you're in good odour all round. But do lead on."

"Of course, my lady." Once again Taren turned, intending to do just that, but behind the mask of his father's face the man's terrible longing caught at him, and he paused as a hundred thoughts smashed together — Lord Burchard's austere assumptions of privacy and obdurate, blinding pride, a childhood filled with concealments, Var's bruises and bleeding nose, Lord Mithros preferring action to words and the High One's earlier, cool greeting, Wuodan's and Kel's ideas of simplicity, and the need to stand upright before gods, looking them in the eye. A decision crystallised, and he turned back. "But perhaps one thing first, while we yet stand on sacred ground and before the congregation. My lord of justice, you will recall we once spoke of my father and this day, so may I ask if you have anything to say to Burchard of Stone Mountain?"

Stars and silver stared at him for a long moment before Lord Mithros shrugged.

"Not that I can think of. But stand before us now, Burchard of Stone Mountain."

Kel, face alight with appreciation, urged his father forward, throwing one glance his way, at once indignant, affronted, and anguished, before facing Lord Mithros, whose arms opened, palms upwards.

"Burchard of Stone Mountain, your prayers assail me daily, yet you know not what you want. And I have told you, through the son you so long ignored and yet must now defer to, that I prefer action to words. I am the god of war, and of justice." Lord Mithros shot Kel a starry look. "And, I am told, of logical necessity clerks. Either way, I don't _do_ hermits. So what am I to do with you?"

There was a long moment of silence, while Taren bit his cheek and saw Kel doing the same, before Lord Sakuyo drifted forward, laying a veined old hand on Lord Mithros's arm.

"May I assist you in this, brother?"

The glance between the gods crackled with energy before Lord Mithros again shrugged.

"Why not, brother, if you think he'll listen to you better than he has to me."

"Surely he will try, brother." Lord Sakuyo drifted forward again, a hand resting on his father's shoulder. "Will you not, Burchard of Stone Mountain? I realise I am a horrible foreign god, but it really doesn't do to ignore divine commands for that sort of reason, now does it? And I believe my favourite daughter is owed some fuller apologies than you have yet managed, so although she will not bless me for it I command you to make a proper pilgrimage, first to see the marvellous memorials your son has designed in Corus and at Mindelan, and then on the Pilgrims' Way to New Hope. Go on foot, of course, as pilgrims should, and see what is to be seen there, and at Dragonstown, and at the shrine to my brother of death, and at Hléodréam, and when you pray to me at my shrine at New Hope having done those things, we will speak of what you can and may do to make fuller amends and live your remaining days both in honour and being of some earthly use." The old face looked up, eyes twinkling. "Lead on, Taren of Stone Mountain, and I'll keep explaining things to your father while we walk."

Taren met Lianne's eyes, and they each took a deep breath, swallowing laughter that if released would career out of control.

"At once, my lord." He turned one more time, finding the king's eyes on him, and remembering what he had been told of protocol dropped his voice to a murmur. "It seems we must precede the High Ones, Jonathan. Might you take Lianne's right arm, and offer my mother your right, while I offer Thayet my left and she offers my aunt her left? Dancing a long and most improper laugh must wait, alas, though we should think on what security the spectacle of my father's pilgrimage will demand."

Jonathan swallowed, and Taren could see both amusement and royal calculation in his eyes before he spoke to be heard.

"Of course, my lord councillor. And welcome to the family. Let us go as swiftly as may be. Gods make me hungry, I find."

Taren could only agree, and taking Lianne's arm, they went, High Ones, a grinning Kel and Dom, and all manner of mortal and immortal guests and liegers falling in behind them amid a great babble of rising wonder and bemused good cheer as Stone Mountain learned what it was to walk with the gods, and how one might rejoice in the great and painful gift of doing so.

Ω


End file.
